The Shine Journal

RED GLOVES

by

Karla  Lammers
 

Daniel stared at the red gloves lying on his kitchen table next to the glass of wine.  He didn’t want her here.  Not at all.  He sighed, slung his trench coat over the back of a chair and, ignoring the wine, grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, popped it open and took a long, slow drink from the can.  The cold liquid hit his stomach hard, went straight to his head and gave him a false sense of confidence.  He sauntered toward the family room and paused just outside.

The room was dimly lit by a waning fire.  Sandra had curled herself into the easy chair, where she stared mindlessly into the embers—the wine glass tilting precariously in her hand.  He studied her for a moment, taking in her perfectly groomed auburn hair, her wool trousers and cashmere sweater.  The mink he’d bought her as an engagement gift cloaked her body.  The smell of her perfume wafted to the doorway, and his blood spiked.  She still had an effect on him.  Despite everything, he longed to reach out and brush her hair behind her ear.

“Sandra,” he whispered.
 
She stirred then and raised her eyes to his.  “Daniel, I didn’t hear you come home.”

Daniel stiffened.  “Home, exactly.  My home. You divorced me six months ago.”
 
Her gaze lowered to his beer, then returned to the fireplace.  “I took the bus, can you believe it?  I didn’t want you to see my car.  I was afraid you wouldn’t come in, and I needed to see you tonight.”
 
“Ha!” he snorted.  “Since when have you needed me?  Isn’t your daddy’s money and your house on the lake enough for you?  What are you doing here?”  

“For the last five years, we’ve talked every morning on this date.  Even during the divorce.  But not today.”  She looked up at him.  “Did you forget?  Because I don’t think I could bear it, if I made you forget the anniversary of Danny’s death.”
  
No!  he thought.  It had been on his mind all week, and he would have called her…if he hadn’t forgotten today.   He saw a tear trailing through her make-up, and he went and sat on the ottoman in front of her chair.  He set their drinks on the end table, then reached out and trailed the narrow, wet streak with his thumb. 

Dropping his hand, he said “I lost track of the days.  It’s no excuse, but I delivered a presentation this morning to a potential new account.  It went so badly, that I spent the day roaming in the drizzle, wondering how everything in my life had gone wrong.  First with Danny, and then you.”
 
“He was so small.  A little baby!”  Sandra sobbed.  “But when you didn’t call today, I realized, after all this time, that losing you hurts just as much.” 
 
He reached out to hold her then, and they cried and comforted each other—something they had been unable to do since pneumonia had taken their boy.  They’d tried for years afterward to have another child, but their failed efforts became a wedge that eventually drove them apart.  
  
Sandra pulled away and held his face in her hands, rubbing her fingers across the light stubble.   She gazed into the deep blue eyes that she had fallen into so many years before.  “I’m so sorry.  I thought if you were gone, the pain would leave.  But now, now I know I was wrong.”
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“Please, let’s try again.  Not to have a child, but to be together like we were before Danny.”
  
He placed his hands over hers and lowered them to her lap.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “The divorce feels so fresh to me.”  
 
Sandra took a deep breath and held it.  She let it out with a whoosh.  “I am such a fool.” Tears again raced down her cheeks.   She slid into the
mink and asked, “Would you call me a cab?”
 
“No, I’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you.”  She followed him into the kitchen.  
  
He lifted her red gloves from the table, and ran his fingers over the smooth leather before handing them to her.  “Maybe we could go to dinner
this weekend.  See how it feels.”
 
She raised her eyes to meet his.  “I’d like that so much,” she said softly as she pulled on the gloves.

Motivation: This originated from a writing prompt about something left on a kitchen table.

Bio: Karla Lammers works as a corporate lawyer and has written several academic articles.  Since turning her pen toward literary fiction, several of her short stories have appeared in online publications.  She is a contributing blogger at www.worldswellwritten.com and lives in the Midwest with her husband, daughter, labrador and beta fish.