The Last Thing I Needed

Based on the song by Willie Nelson:  The Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNwTO9TGj_s&list=RDoNwTO9TGj_s&start_radio=1

Ben Anderson did not think that his marriage was going well. He had no complaints of his own, but his wife, Tracy, did not seem as happy as she used to.

He was lying in bed, alone, brooding, the dim light of a single lamp losing the battle to dispel the gloom. Tracy was not there with him now because she was out with her ‘friends’ again. It was the third time this week. She said that she needed the feeling of camaraderie that they provided. He wondered if it really was a ‘need’ or was it just something other than what the two of them had.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the garage door opening. Long moments later, Tracy came into the room. She said nothing, just placing her purse on the end table on her side of the bed and going on to the bathroom.

The splash of water as she brushed her teeth at the sink and then from the shower as she got ready for bed the only sounds. She came out in her nightgown, pulled the covers back on her side of the bed and slipped in, turning her back to him and then curling up on her side.

“Tired, hon?” Ben said as he rolled over and matched his shape to hers, putting his arm across her waist.

Tracy did not reply, but shifted as if uncomfortable. Ben could smell the beer on her breath. She always had beer when she was out with them. It was just the holidays, he tried to console himself.

He knew it was useless, but he let his hand slide up her side, more intimately. She immediately pulled it back down.

“Don’t even!” She hissed.

“You had a hard day too?” he asked.

“Hard day and hard night,” Tracy replied, pushing his hand off of her and rolling to her back to stare at the ceiling.

Giving up, Ben turned over and shut the light off. 

“That’s all you got to say?” she asked.

“Can’t really think of anything else.”

“That’s what I thought!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Tracy answered, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed.  “Or care.  I’m sleeping in the guest bed tonight!”

Putting action to words she picked up her purse and left the room.

Not unused to such storms, Ben turned over and dropped off to sleep.

          -          -          -

The alarm interrupted Ben’s fitful sleep. Fumbling with his eyes still closed, he managed to quiet the buzzing with the snooze button.

He turned on his back and laid his arm across his eyes, too tired from the restless night to get up. The buzzing soon pulled him back to reality again, which was reinforced by the empty spot beside him when he looked over to where Tracy should have been.

Glancing back at the clock, he was confused even more. Why did it say 8:10? It should have been 6:10! He thrashed out from under the blanket and pushed himself out of the bed. He had to go tell Tracy!  She would be madder than his boss that they would be late.

He wobbled along the hallway and looked in the open doorway to the guest room. No Tracy. He continued down to the kitchen. No Tracy. She must have awakened and gone on to work. At least he would not have to face THAT battle.

In the kitchen, he smelled the aroma of fresh coffee coming from the pot.  She must not have been too mad, he thought to himself. He did not notice the envelope that his cup had been sitting on as it slid off the counter to the floor, when he turned the cup over, his eyes still half closed, and poured coffee from the hot pot.

Just as he had the cup almost full, a series of loud crashes and jangling came from outside.  He looked up just in time to see the trash man spilling most of the garbage along the sidewalk as he haphazardly dumped it in the direction of his truck. Ben couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the trash can unceremoniously cast back onto the lawn to rest on its side, the remainder of its contents starting to blow across the yard.

That was when his hand holding the coffee cup started to burn. Coffee was everywhere! He had emptied the pot!

Saying some unkind words about the probable lineage of the trash man, Ben headed for the back door to confront him. The spilled coffee decided to interfere and Ben slipped, landing on all fours at the door.

He wrenched open the door on his knees and went out to give the trash man a piece of his mind. Of course, he was too late for that. The trash truck and the clumsy worker were already gone.

To make matters worse, the hinges of the little gate in his picket fence chose that day to fall off as he pushed through, maybe a little too violently.

He cleaned up the mess, then noticed the open mailbox. He retrieved its contents and made his way back inside, where he sat at the table looking over the two envelopes. One was junk mail but the other had an ominous red slash across the front. Ripping it open, he hardly glanced at the past due electric bill before tossing it on the floor.

As we watched it fall, he noticed the other envelope on the floor that he had unknowingly knocked off the counter. What was that doing there? Had he dropped a piece of mail as he came back in? Stepping over and bending to pick it up, he almost lost his balance, but managed to snag it and return to the table without injury.

Opening the envelope, he extracted a note from within.  A golden ring spilled out with it.  It took him a moment to focus on the words in Tracy’s neat script.

The note read, “You don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ll come back for my stuff later.”

“Well, that’s the last thing I needed, the first thing this morning,” he said to the empty room.