"Did you hear me? I want toast."His eyebrows shot up a little higher. She looked at him for a second, uncomprehending what he was doing, before the light bulb in her head flashed on."Uh, please?" she asked sheepishly.His expression softened, he smiled, and went to make her some toast.Toast around the Hudson household was something that most people would not recognize as such. Bryan baked bread for the family, usually once a week and he made large fluffy loaves of whole wheat bread that wouldn't have been recognizable as such. Typically Monday was his baking day, so the bread from the previous Monday was getting somewhat aged and perfect for toast.There was a large bread box along one counter where the bread was stored. Bryan used old hot-dog and hamburger bun bags to keep the bread relatively fresh inside, though he had to cut the loaves in half before they would fit.It appeared as though the kids had decimated all but half of one loaf. He removed the remaining chunk of bread, set it. Perhaps he was just running late and hadn’t gotten a chance to call, she told herself, trying to be confident, trying to tell herself that something “more important” hadn’t come up. Not so soon after their reconciliation. Not already! She told herself not to wait around for him, not to let him do that to her again, but it didn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. Even if she called it something else, she was still waiting, and every minute that passed brought a deeper ache, every minute that passed brought her closer to the inevitable tears. She tried to busy herself, not to sit by the phone or watch the door, not to wait for him to come. She fixed dinner, enough for two just in case, and sat down to eat. Slowly she lifted the fork to her mouth, barely able to choke down the few bites she forced herself to eat before the plate went into the garbage, and still there was nothing. The emptiness of her little apartment depressed her. She turned the television up in an attempt to drown out the.
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