She’s sitting on the couch in her “lounging garb.” Her coffee steams her glasses as the cup lingers on her lips. She always pauses mid-drink while she’s thinking. She stayed up late last night and woke up at the crack of dawn, and in the summertime, that’s ridiculously early.
I just got up, my first sight was my beautiful wife on the couch sipping coffee and wearing the PJs I bought her. The pink and white flannel garments hug her body in all the ways I want them to. They match mine, but mine are baggy and black. She notices me staring at her, and her head slightly tilts to the side with a sweet smile.
“Well, you’re finally awake,” she winks and sips from her cup.
I usually wake up when she does, I go to work before the sun comes up in any season. However, it’s not only Saturday, it’s my birthday. I’m forty-three, I work hard all week, I’m an active father, and the shrapnel in my leg has been bothering me. It has been since two nights ago. The real reason I’m off from the Agency today. I’m on “psych-leave.”
“I needed some sleep, I guess,” My cup warms as I pour the coffee, and I feel slight excitement. Coffee in the morning is very important to me.
“I made your favorite. Hazelnut,” She walks sexily when she comes over. I can never tell if she does it on purpose. “Even the brand you like – the expensive one.”
“Nice,” an elongated hiss, “is this my present?”
The phone rings. It’s my mom.
“Hey, Junebug,” she’s loud enough for Jana to hear. The pet name makes her giggle.
“Hey, Mama.”
“What are you doing for your birthday?”
“We don’t know yet. Jana’s been up, maybe planning something,” Jana shakes her head and flips me off.
“Did you get birthday love?”
“Mom, I don’t want to -”
“Well, on your father’s birthday, I - “
“Okay, Mama! La la! Stop.”
“Nothing planned, Mrs. Jenkins!” Now, Mama knows Jana can hear.
“Oh my,” I can hear her blush, “I didn’t know she could hear me.”
“She hears everything,” another middle finger. It makes me chuckle.
“I’m sure she has something planned.”
I doubt it. She’s been distant for the last week. My instincts tell me something is off – and they often save me. Our kisses haven’t been the same. Her voice is dead during “I love you.” She’s been out late and extra vigilant about her phone. The coffee could very well be my present.
It started after my last assignment. I’d been gone for six months and returned with a scarred mind from the things I’d seen; worse than I’ve seen yet. I’ve seen too much already. I lost a friend and close co-worker. The man who killed him got away. His friends didn’t, distractions to protect him. It worked, and I mourned. But I know him now – “Jagger.”
Mom expresses love and says goodbye. Jana turns, walks to the closet.
“So, I’ve been weird lately,” she says.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
The box she pulled from the closet seems heavy for her; she’s dainty, and I’ve compared her to a thimble in the past. I begin to shake it. She hits my shoulder.
“It could be fragile, Butt Munch!” She exclaims. Was that a clue?
It plops on the counter, and I feel it roll. It smells strange when I open it. I touch it, and it’s squishy with no bounce back. I inspect closer and gasp. I slowly straighten my back. I think it’s a head. It’s…his head. It’s Jagger.
