White Plains, New York Christopher Gilbert finally made it home and was surprised to find himself actually glad to see the place. Until then, the cramped apartment was simply a constant reminder of his failures. It was a roof over his head and nothing else. It was a stopping point on his way back from devastation. Tonight though, he was glad to be somewhere other than inside of an airplane. The flight back from the west coast was the worst he had ever experienced in all the years with the firm, when he was forced to travel from coast to coast. Two unexpected layovers, first when a pregnant woman went into labor and, the second, when an elderly man suffered a heart attack, were the highlight of the trip. During their only scheduled stop, in Ohio, the plane was forced to circle the airport for nearly an hour before landing. The pilot told them over the loud speaker not to worry; it was routine. But Christopher did worry. He found himself worrying about everything imaginable. He dug his daughter's picture out of his wallet and escaped to the place and time where the snap shot was taken. It was a picture of Kristy in line at an amusement park. She was standing beside her mother, and they were both smiling playfully for the camera. The day was a scorcher, and he had complained the entire time. Why did he not know back then how good he had it? He should have cherished every moment. He should have simply been grateful for the love of his wife and child. Now, he had neither of them. He had nothing. The picture though, as it usually did, took him to that better place and time. The remedy had worked hundreds of times.
Christopher picked up the receiver on the white wall phone that hung in the kitchen and dialed the number of his former house. He had promised Kristy that he would call as soon as he got back.
"Jenny-" he said when his wife picked up after only one ring. He pulled off his jacket and hung it over a chair.
"Hello, Chris," she returned. There was something in her voice. It was not dread and she did not sound irritable. Strangely, she actually sounded relieved.
"I hope I didn't wake anybody." It was a courtesy comment. She usually stayed up late.
"No. We're up. Want to talk to Kristy? She's brushing her teeth."
"Actually, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."
"There's not much more to say, Chris."
Okay, so it wasn't relief I heard in her voice when she picked up the phone, he now realized. It was fatigue…and exasperation-her usual tone of voice. It brought with it the memory of every argument they had ever had.
