Left behind
I looked up from my work at about 5:20 last night and thought, “Where is James? I thought he wanted to leave early?”
I do a quick search and can’t find him, so I play on the Internet until he comes back to his office. We talk about going home. He says he has one more thing to do, then he’s ready.
I return to the Internet.
Next thing I know, he’s out the door. I frantically start shutting down things on my computer, grab my coat and bag and head outside. To see his tail lights as he pulls out of the parking lot.
He forgot me.
I come back inside and the few coworkers who remain tell me stories about how their husbands left their kids places. Or how they were left places as a kid. A couple offer me rides home, and soon I’m on my way.
I get home. James’s car is there, but mine is gone. And the house is dark. I thank my coworker for the ride and head inside. I try James’s cell phone, but it’s off.
If his car hadn’t been there, I would have just assumed he turned around to come get me. But where did he go with mine?
After about 10 minutes of nailbiting, he pulls in, in my car.
The windows in his car were fogging up and he couldn’t get them clear, so when he got home and realized I wasn’t there, he took my car back to come get me.
We haven’t yet discussed a suitable punnishment, but I think he may be doing the laundry for a while.
