In a Book Club Far Away(14)
Regina took the apartment stairs up two by two. The sounds of voices and television filtered into the corridor from the other families. There were the Castillos in A, Sergeant Major Davis in B—he was geobaching it while his family stayed in Chicago—the Smiths in C, the Katz family with their four cats in D, and she and Logan in E, while F was empty for the time being. But when she approached her door, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
She turned the doorknob—locked. And after unlocking it and entering, she encountered a dark apartment.
Meow. Shadow greeted her at her door and immediately rolled to her back, an invitation to play. And, normally, Regina would have gone right down onto the ground to do so. Optimism ran through her veins, that their third year in Millersville would be better than the first. Perhaps this year, she would make real friends; she’d prove Logan wrong when he’d once told her that her grumpiness—that was the actual word he’d used, and she’d given him hell for it—was because she didn’t know how to have a good time.
Instead she bypassed her cat and went straight to the bedroom, curious at the silence. No Logan. She searched the kitchen for a note—no dice. And then, she peeked out of the front windows, where sure enough, she discovered that his car was missing.
Which meant he wasn’t in the neighborhood, wasn’t holed up with his buddy Aaron, a single lieutenant who lived four buildings over.
She pulled out her BlackBerry, noticed no missed calls, and rang her husband, biting her cheek. Tingles ran up and down her arms—her nerves threatening to jump off along with her simmering temper. Two years they’d been married, and the man still ran his life as if he were single. Whatever happened to him leaving a note? Cell phones existed for a reason.
When the call went to voice mail, she hung up and dialed him again. This time, on the fourth ring, he answered.
“Hey.” Logan’s voice sounded like he was having a drink on the beach, all relaxed and unbothered. In the background, she heard the staccato of drumbeats and an electric guitar chord.
She controlled her voice. “Hey. Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m out.”
“Where?”
“Just down the street. Listen, I can’t hear you. Are you home?”
“Yes!” she yelled. Then, she girded her abdomen to keep her body from lurching with anger. “Where you should be.”
He laughed—he was drunk. She knew then where he was. At the local Irish pub, aptly named Eyes Crossed Pub, with his buddies.
She dropped her head in resignation. This was another recurring fight they had. Their lives on the weekend rarely intersected except for the occasional movie together, a problem she attributed to their dating while Logan was at West Point. Because they hadn’t dated in the way most college kids did—they hadn’t had study nights and casual, last-minute adventures, but serious, planned occasions and intense school breaks—they didn’t go out now. Yes, their sexual relationship thrived, their physical attraction oftentimes made up for their fights, but they didn’t plan their lives like many couples mapped out their leave time together. Those things that she’d once bragged about—that she and her husband were individuals first, a team second; that they didn’t feel the need to give each other permission—didn’t feel so advantageous now.
Was it possible to go backward in a relationship? Because as each day passed, it was getting harder and harder to remember what brought them together in the first place.
“I’ll be home soon, babe,” he said now. A soft plea. “Another hour.”
“Fine.” Because what else could she say? “Take a cab home. You sound wasted.”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you see me s… saluting you? I am.” His voice muffled in her ear. “Don’t get mad, baby. It’s just me and the guys and beers. Thassit.”
She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine.”
“Love ya!” he yelled, laughing. Logan knew that if he made it through this phone call and she went to bed, he wouldn’t have to deal with her till morning. And since he would be leaving for Afghanistan soon, was a fight really worth it?
Logan was right. After he hung up, Regina moved on, changing into her pj’s, playing with Shadow, and opening The Hunger Games to read the ending, which had been spoiled at book club—no big deal. She fell asleep with her thoughts jumping from the potential of new friends, to the book’s ending (Oh. My. God), to Logan, who’d get an earful in the morning.
But when she awoke the next day, her husband wasn’t by her side.
PART TWO
Everyone’s got a different story.
—Room by Emma Donoghue
CHAPTER NINE
Adelaide
Present Day, Thursday
Despite the computer screen that separated them, Adelaide felt her husband’s quiet judgment all the way from Wiesbaden, Germany, and it rivaled her mother’s on a good day.
“Yes, yes, I know it wasn’t okay,” she said stubbornly. “I just thought… I just thought that if they got to see each other, in person and with me in the room as a buffer, that they would both be willing to work it out. They’re my best friends, Matt. And it’s time for this whole thing to be resolved. I had it all planned out.”