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used to do. He silently approached the door and turned the knob.
Unlocked.
Holding his breath, he opened the door and stepped inside,
pausing again to listen and hearing nothing. He crossed the
kitchen and entered the living room—then the bedroom and
bathroom. He cursed aloud, knowing she wasn’t home.
Assuming he was in the right home, of course. In the bedroom, he
spied the chest of drawers and pulled the top one open. Finding a
stack of her panties, he sifted through them, rubbed them between
his thumb and forefinger, but it had been so long, he wasn’t sure
he could remember if they were the ones she had back home. The
other clothes he didn’t recognize, but they were her size.
He recognized the shampoo and conditioner, he recognized the
brand of toothpaste. In the kitchen, he rifled through the drawers,
opening them one by one until he found a utility bill. It was listed
in the name of Katie Feldman, and now he leaned against the
cupboard, staring at the name and feeling a sense of completion.
The only problem was that she wasn’t here, and he didn’t know
when she would return. He knew he couldn’t leave his car at the
store indefinitely, but all at once, he was just so tired. He wanted
to sleep, needed to sleep. He’d driven all night and his head was
pounding. Instinctively, he wandered back to her bedroom. She’d
made the bed, and when he peeled back the cover, he could smell
her scent in the sheets. He crawled into the bed, breathing deeply,
breathing her in. He felt the tears flood his eyes as he realized how
much he missed her and loved her and that they could have been
happy if she hadn’t been so selfish.
He couldn’t stay awake and he told himself that he would sleep
for just a little while. Not long. Just enough so that when he came
back later in the evening, his mind would be sharp and he
wouldn’t make mistakes and he and Erin could be husband and
wife once more.