Familiar Strangers

The Dream

I was confused, to say the least, when I was told that my husband was going to be coming home later than usual.

Firstly, I don't remember ever having a husband but, for some reason, I had I gut feeling that I really did have one.

After further investigation, I found that there were indeed traces of a male living in, what I thought was, my room and house. There were men's clothes in my/our cupboards and drawers, and various male hygiene products in my/our bathroom. And of course, the bed smelled suspiciously like a male on the one side.

Secondly, why was he not contacting me directly? I don't really know who told me anyway, all I remember was a third party being involved in this exchange of information.

This concerned me.

And in the back of my mind I knew that what should be most concerning was the huge holes in my memory but for some reason it didn't. Not one bit.

I frowned at my left hand and pulled the ring off. Flexing and wiggling my fingers, I realised that my hand felt strange without that ring. It felt like the was something missing.

Maybe it was the memories that were missing.

I felt lost.

Not in my own house but lost in the sense that I had no idea what to do with myself while I waited.

Another thing to add to the list of confusion.

I usually don't depend on others to entertain me. Nor have I ever had to wait on some guy to make me feel whole or needed.

But then again, I didn't know I had a husband up until a little while ago.

I decided then and there that I was going to do anything I could to occupy my mind in the mean time. I could feel the anxiety start to build in the bottom of my gut and I refused to let it get to me.

I read. I wrote. I drew. I sang. I even watered the garden. I tried to clean but everything seemed very much in it's place and there wasn't any dirt building up anywhere.

For some reason I kept checking the door and the front of the house in general. I felt as if I needed to be near the door for the exact moment he came home. Which frustrated me to no end because I really didn't think that I would/should be this dependent on someone else.

I dragged myself into the kitchen and decided to bake. Hoping that it would keep my mind occupied. I turned on the radio, put on an apron and began.

An hour had passed and during that time, I had made biscuits, muffins and bread. I left everything near the window to cool, making sure to cover it all with netting to keep the bugs away. There wasn't much to clean, since I did some cleaning as I made everything, so I packed the dishwasher with the remaining dishes and cleaned the counter tops.

All those cups of tea caught up with my bladder and I had to run off to the bathroom.

My timing was the worst because just as I had finished washing my hands, I heard the front door open and close.

I hurried toward the front of the house trying not to look too eager but trying not seem too nonchalant at the same time.

I saw a figure round the corner and move into the kitchen. I followed, stopping just shy of the doorway. I gripped the wooden frame for dear life and hoped that I had been gifted with a lovely partner.

I watched as he plucked one of the muffins from it's resting place and peeled the paper case away before taking a huge bite. He made some sort of hum of approval before stalking over to the fridge.

I took in his appearance as he raided the fridge.

The first thing that was apparent was his height. He looked to be about five foot nine, ten if you're feeling generous, and even though he was still taller than me I usually preferred considerably taller men. It didn't look like he had any facial hair either, something I found equally attractive... Not even a little stubble.

I tried not to feel disappointed. I didn't want to be rude. It's what's inside that counts after all. I've always said that if he can make me laugh then I'd love him forever. The rest of his personality matters too, of course, but a good sense of humour is something that would always attract me.

I hope that he has a good sense of humour.

I stepped into the kitchen, releasing the wooden frame of the doorway and prepared myself. He sensed my presence and turned away from the fridge, closing the door.

"Hey." He grinned.

I must say, he did have a beautiful smile. It was contagious and somewhat familiar. I felt a fuzzy feeling in my stomach and I couldn't help but smile back. I suppose it didn't really matter what my husband looked like. You love someone for who they are and not their aesthetics. The person in front of me felt familiar and I felt love for this person. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I loved this man. Although, it's not exactly how I thought I would feel. It's not as intense as I thought. Not as 'knee buckling', or as 'puddle inducing' as they make it out to be. I felt slightly confused as the feeling became familiar-

My thoughts were interrupted when the man in front of me spoke up. His words adding to the frustration that had built during the day.

"So is your husband home yet?"

"Arg!"