The Japanese Stonemason

"If I were him, I would ... " she thought and that was as far as her thoughts came, because there she was, in John's chair again, but now staring at the phone. Her thoughts were still in turmoil, that had not changed much, but these thoughts were of a different kind.

Yes, sure, there was some regret about what happened just now with Belle, or rather, what had not happened and amazement too about that sudden piece of luck. But predominant in her mind was that phone and the call she expected.

Her wife. She wanted to hear from her wife. She had been calling her wife and her wife had not been there, which was very unusual, since this was way past her shopping time. According to the schedule she knew by heart her wife should be having a break with a book or the telly. A book, most likely. She had recommended that book about Indonesia, Max Havelaar and she knew her wife would like it.

Since then she had been calling her wife every 5 minutes or so. Why the hell didn't she pick up the phone! For certain she must be home, there was no reason whatsoever to be out. This rupture in her wife's normal routine upset her more than she would ever have thought possible, so much that even the astonishing advances of her gorgeous boss Belle could not disengage her from the obsession with her wife's unfathomable absence.

What if! What if she would come home and not see her wife's welcoming smile, not have her handed her whiskey, not smell the gratifying aroma of the dinner she cooked? She knew the answer to that.

Her world would fall apart. Without that soothing everyday routine she would not be able to face the rigor of being subjected to the whims of bosses and überbosses and the suffocating weight of customer demands, monthly targets and all the other hardships of a desk job.

Anxiousness made room for anger. That ungrateful bitch! All she had to do was be there and get her lazy ass to do some minor chores and frivol away most of the day! There was someone twice a week for, what she called, the heavy work ... pfff, heavy! She had no idea what heavy work was. This work, that was what you'd call heavy! Making sure that pampered woman could have her cleaning lady, her fine drinks, her exquisite food, her satisfying regular sex life, her holidays three times a year! And how did she thank her husband for that? By not being there, goddammit!

God, if she was in her place..!

And there she was again, still in her chair, the book she was reading on her knees. She looked around the room and took it all in, amazed how novel it all looked and yet so familiar. And when she saw what time it was, she smiled and hastened to pour a whiskey for her husband who should be coming in any minute now and who was so utterly dependent on the comforting life only she could give him.