Extended Family - A G/t Shorty

Ch. 7 Go to a happy place

A/N: And now, a summarized representation of the following chapter...

😗🎶 🗣️😯 ☹️😤 😠😡 🤬💥

Take 1 tablet every night by mouth before bedtime for mood control.

I read the medication bottle and simultaneously nudged the front door shut with a free foot, not in anger of course. I sauntered inside the living room balancing a heavy paper bag on one arm and my medication in my hand. A delectable fragrance lured the rest of my senses to what my wife, Vivian, had prepared in the kitchen and it brought a smile to my face. Although it was only the two of us alone in this huge house, she managed to create a warm and cozy atmosphere in our home that I could never bring, only provide. She'd make some modern aesthetic changes here and there, like swapping furniture pieces, replacing curtain drapes, and using warmer color palettes with accentuating bric-a-brac. Her visual prowess echoes not only in our living room but throughout our home. She had hand-painted her vision into every room seamlessly, marrying the various pigments and patterns, etching beautiful works of art into her interior design. Her talents put people who can only draw stick figures, like me, to shame and I'm fine with that.

It's what she enjoys and honestly, being welcomed into her colorful world brings warmth to my heart that I'd gladly silence the cynicism that naturally followed me just so that it wouldn't stain this utopia she created.

As I entered our home, I guess the smell of stew clouded the rest of my senses because I was met with a foreign, near-lifeless dwelling, cloaked in darkness, opposite of what I was used to seeing. It had me questioning for a moment whether I was in the right house.

"Vivy? I'm home," I announced, my steps echoing as if I were walking into a deep abyss.

Even as I wore my sunglasses and was drawn to the bright island in the kitchen, my smile receded and was replaced by a frown of concern when feminine muttering vibrated the acoustics like an unspoken opera.

"I-I'll let him know. Thank you, Sher—,"

I strolled into the kitchen and found her leaning against the island, looking vacant but once her eyes met mine, she winced and gasped, nearly dropping the telephone out of her hands. The fear in her gaze vanished in a millisecond, and it only confused me further. Vivian thought she could change her expression quickly, but I was able to catch her.

"Damnit, Zach, you startled me," she remarked, clutching her chest.

"Who was that?" I probed, studying her.

It was as if I caught her in the act. She wandered around the kitchen island, reached for a random towel, and started wiping randomly on the countertops. I followed behind her, and what did she do? She circles the other way around.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing,." She answered from the other side, feigning innocence, "I didn't expect you home so early."

My brows furrowed when I turned to look at the stovetop clock, "Um, it's 4:30, I wouldn't consider that early."

"Must've lost track of time. How did it go at therapy?"

"Fine..." I answered slowly, giving her another look, "What's going on?"

"Are you hungry, babe?" She dodged my question and inserted her own.

I could feel that familiar tick in my jaw and tried to ignore it as well as the tea kettle sitting on the stovetop serving its function. I have to remember what my doctor told me and remain calm. Slowly, I placed and balanced the grocery bag on the counter and flashed her a knowing glare. I know what's going on. It's something that she's been doing lately, and I understand, to a point, why she was behaving this way.