“Geez, sorry. Okay? I waited up for you and while I was waiting, I had one extra little glass of wine. It’s not my fault you’re always late. C’mon, I’ll have a Pepsi if that’ll make you happy. I just want to talk, Sid,” Merilee pleaded, gently covering his hand with her own. “Just talk to me.”

For a split second, his fingers found hers and the contact caught him off guard. It reminded him why he’d been crazy about her, so crazy that he would not even consider her having an abortion, and instead (when she weepily told him of her condition) shyly suggested that she marry him. If he had only…but he couldn’t let himself think that.

“C’mon Sid,” Merilee implored, tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. “I never see you.”

He felt guilty for working late. Here he was, newly married with a baby on the way. He should be rushing home to his bride, but for Chris’sake, he couldn’t even get her to read the newspaper.

“I hate anything in black and white, especially those stupid old movies you’re so wild about,” Merilee snapped when he’d suggested she might at least enjoy the entertainment section.

And the one area he’d counted on to sustain him, their sex life, had ended the moment Merilee found out she was pregnant.

Sidney glanced around helplessly and rubbed at his forehead. He was hungry and exhausted. All he wanted to do was watch Carson and go to sleep. He got up and went to the stove.

Merilee rose unsteadily. “Sidney. Goddamnit. I’m talking to you.”

There were better choices he could make. Would make, maybe next time, but not tonight. Without a word, he removed the casserole, grabbed a plate and silverware, and fled past his wife to his study.

“Prick!” Merilee shrieked at his back. She grabbed the wine bottle and threw it after him. It landed with an unsatisfying thump on the carpeting by the stairs.

Shit. She shouldn’t have been drinking. She’d only meant to have one, maybe two glasses. For a moment Merilee considered apologizing, but why should she say sorry when he was the one turning her life into a prison?

And it’s not like she wasn’t trying. Just that morning she had gone through Sidney’s phone book, determined to stay occupied.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Sandersons.”

“Hi, is Rita there?” Merilee sat at the bottom of the stairs twirling the phone cord around her fingers.

“The Sandersons are not in. May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Merilee Goldstein, please tell Rita I’m on the phone. I’ve called three times and I don’t think she is getting my messages.”

“We’re just the answering service ma’am, we aren’t in the residence.”