Chapter Text
The house was remarkably quiet—save the soft popping and crackling from the fireplace in the living room. Kurt and Diane sat beside one another on the couch in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth and a bottle of Sancerre.
Remnants of a celebration were still present in the dining room: balloons haphazardly tied to her chair, half a chocolate torte from her favorite bakery, and a vase filled with a large bunch of fresh flowers. Their dishes had been hastily discarded into the kitchen sink after dessert; they’d left the room in favor of the dark leather couch upon which they were now both reclined.
It was November and characteristically cold in Chicago. The weather report that morning had warned of impending snow flurries and Kurt had taken that season’s first trip to the hardware store for sidewalk salt and antifreeze for their cars. He shifted carefully on the couch, suddenly wondering if he should have checked her car over before letting her drive in to work tomorrow.
“Do you think—”
He paused mid-sentence, as though weighing the words carefully, and his halting tone was enough to pull Diane from her own reverie.
“Do you think I should drive you in tomorrow?”
Diane downed the last bit of wine in her glass. “No.”
“Weather’s supposed to be bad. My car’s better for driving in snow.”
She smiled softly, shaking her head. “Kurt, your truck is ancient. And they said it might snow next weekend.”
“Still.”
“Kurt, we’ve talked about this already.”
Diane smiled once more, her lips pressed tightly together, and reached up a hand to brush against his cheek. His brow was furrowed. Flashes of worry had been plainly evident in his expressions for weeks now. She would catch him watching her as she drank her tea in the garden and he would insist that nothing was wrong. She’d find him perched on the edge of their bed, looking far too engrossed in a book when she’d emerge from the bathroom after a shower. She had noticed, too, a growing hint of alarm in his voice each time he’d remind her not to forget to take her cellphone with her on a walk or an errand.
Now, though, he remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the curling flames.
“Kurt.”
She stilled her gentle passes over his cheek and cupped her palm against his jaw, turning him to face her. She was sad, though not surprised, to see his eyes bright with pent-up emotion when he finally focused on her.
“I just—”
Diane nodded, almost imperceptibly, urging him to continue.
“I just think you might need more time. Maybe—maybe give it until after the holidays.”
Diane leaned forward, her hand dropping to squeeze his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. She let her lips linger there for a long moment, desperate for him to know how much she loved him for his concern. She turned forward to face the fire and let her head drop to his shoulder, knowing it was often easier for him to have these conversations without the weight of a shared gaze.
“It’s been nine months. I’m ready to go back.”
She leaned further forward then and reached toward the bottle of wine resting on the coffee table between their feet. Taking his empty glass, she poured the remaining liquid between their cups and urged him to take a sip. It would be easy, she considered, to live in this quietude forever. It had been easier than she would have ever imagined for them to cut themselves off from the world (for all intents and purposes). A life structured by small things: trips to the grocery store, long walks in their neighborhood, lazy summer dinners on the patio, making love in the afternoons—every element of this new life had been so quiet, so routine, and yet so perfect.
Every time she’d had fleeting thoughts of making it permanent, though, something, some elemental feeling, tugged her back toward the real world. When Kurt had suggested retirement only a few months ago, she’d carefully rebuffed the notion. This was not how she wanted to end her professional life. So, instead, they made slow plans to dismantle the walls they’d so hastily and desperately erected around themselves nearly nine months before. Diane didn’t know if she was making the right decision, jumping back into their old life, and forcing Kurt to jump with her, but believed she would forever regret not making the attempt.
Kurt squeezed her knee in a gesture of surrender. She knew he would not force the issue.
“You’ll call me if you need anything.”
“Of course I will. But everything’s going to be alright.”
He smiled sadly, humming in reply, and she knew he was turning over in his mind those same words they’d exchanged almost a year before. But he nodded slowly, after a pause, and agreed.
“Everything’s going to be alright.”
Diane awoke early the next morning, and for the first time in quite a long time it was the steady chirp of her alarm clock that roused her from sleep. She turned over, sinking into her pillow, and was surprised to find the other side of the bed cool to the touch when she stretched an arm out in search of her husband. Blearily, she opened her eyes. The early morning light—near darkness, really, at this time of year—in their bedroom was unfamiliar. Her extended time away from work had changed her morning routine quite a bit. In recent months, she’d wake around eight, just as Kurt dropped off a cup of coffee on her bedside table on his way out the door to work. He would kiss her soundly, promising to stop home during lunch, and she would lounge in bed and read the news on her laptop and sip her coffee after he’d gone.
Now, the alarm chimed again, reminding her that it was five after six. Diane sat up, silenced the phone, and laughed quietly as she disentangled herself from the bedsheets, realizing her silk pajama top was buttoned rather haphazardly after the previous night’s activities. She fixed the buttons, smiling despite herself, and stretched her arms over her head. She caught a glimpse of the outfit she’d chosen for her first day back; it was hanging off the closet door and she felt her stomach flip—though with excitement or trepidation she was not exactly sure. Stepping out of bed and into her slippers, she decided to tackle the task of preparing herself for work after finding her husband.
She found him in the kitchen, sitting in near-darkness. As she approached, she could see he’d made coffee, though his cup looked untouched.
“You’re up early.”
Diane’s voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.
Kurt was startled by her voice behind him, but smiled warmly at the sight of her.
“Morning. Coffee’s ready.” He gestured toward the old metal percolator on the counter.
Diane sat down beside him at the kitchen island and stole a sip from his cup.
“I’m fine. I think I have enough jitters without the caffeine—”
She paused mid-sentence, alarmed at how quickly his expression changed to one of obvious concern.
“You don’t have to go in if you’re not feeling up to it.”
She ran her hand up and down his arm in a gesture of reassurance.
“It’s just first day excitement. Like the first day back at school.”
Kurt grunted and took a small sip from his mug.
“Kurt.”
“I’m working from home today,” he answered quietly. “If you need anything, just call.”
“You don’t have to do that. Really, I’m fine.”
“I know. But I’m working from home today, so if you need anything—”
“I’ll call.”
He leaned in, suddenly, and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”
They exhaled then, almost in unison, and laughed lightly at their apparent relief.
“So, are we still on for the cabin this weekend?”
“Of course. If you’re up for it.”
Diane grinned. “I will be.”
He leaned in once more and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Diane was tempted to pursue the conversation, to reassure him once more that she would be fine, but she caught a glimpse of the clock and saw it was nearly six thirty now and knew she needed to jump in the shower if she wanted to be on time for her first day back. So, she kissed his cheek once more for good measure and smiled her brightest smile, pleased when he smiled back.
“I’m going to get ready.”
“Ok. Want me to make you some tea?”
She didn’t want the caffeine, not really, but was glad to be able to give him some task.
“That would be great.”
She found a cup of earl grey tea on the bedside table as soon as she exited the bathroom. Kurt was nearby, sitting on the settee and pretending to watch the morning news.
“Thanks for this,” she called over.
He nodded in reply and appeared extremely interested in the weather report.
Diane set about getting dressed and several long moments passed in relative silence—save the occasional loud commercial from the television. It was not until she was seated at her vanity and putting on her earrings that he spoke again.
“Did you remember to pack your medication?”
She paused, holding one hoop earring in the air. She was tempted to snipe at him then; she hated being monitored, and had foolishly hoped they were past all this. Yet, she refused to turn—refused to look at him—because she knew all she would find in his gaze was concern.
“Yes,” she replied after a long pause. “I put it in my bag last night.”
“Ok.”
“Kurt—”
“I’m going to go down to get my computer from the office,” he interrupted. “I’ve got a Zoom meeting at nine.”
“Alright.” Diane swallowed, feeling guilty for her momentary annoyance, and watched him hurry out of the room.
He was quiet when he returned several minutes later. She wished desperately there was something she could say to assuage his concern. But she knew as she caught a glimpse in the vanity mirror of the second lock he’d installed on their bedroom door that it would be entirely unfair of her to ask him not to worry.
And so she said nothing and busied herself with putting the finishing touches on her outfit. They did not speak again until she was double-checking the contents of her briefcase and preparing to head out for the day. Realizing she was nearly ready to leave, Kurt deposited his laptop on the couch and hurried over to meet her at the bedroom door.
“Have a good day,” he said simply. He kissed her cheek and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I will.”
She leaned forward to kiss him once more and could feel his hand at her waist, holding on just a bit more than was strictly necessary.
“And you’ll call if—”
“I will call you. Even if I don’t need anything.”
He managed a small smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be home for dinner,” she promised, snatching her briefcase up from the floor.
Kurt nodded. “See you later.”
She stood in the doorway and held his gaze for a long moment.
“I love you.”
He nodded, his lips pursed in apparent concern. “Love you too.”
Before she could reevaluate her decision, Diane blew him a kiss and disappeared from view. He heard her heels click down the hallway and then down the stairs. He waited until he heard the front door alarm chime before settling back down on the couch. Turning off the television, Kurt grabbed for his cellphone and confirmed the volume was on the highest setting. He thought briefly, irrationally, about running after her and telling her (or begging her) not to go. But he knew it was no good—it was something she had to do. So, he exhaled a long, shaking breath and reached for his laptop.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” he murmured aloud. “Everything’s going to be alright.”