Catriona and Micheal were trying to decide if they should go out to a friend’s party early, or arrive just on time.
“Shall we go to the pub for seven or eight?” Catriona really wanted to go at the earlier time.
“Whatever, I’m not fussed.” Micheal didn’t want to go at all.
“We will go at seven, if it doesn’t bother you. Patricia will be down early, putting up the decorations and I want to have a chat with her.”
Micheal nodded his agreement, his eyes fixed on the television set.
“Can you believe young Aaron is going to be 21 tonight!” Micheal made no response.
“Can you believe that, Micheal, can you?”
“Micheal, that’s no sort of way to speak to your wife! Are you even listening to me?”
Micheal looked at her and wondered, what was he supposed to say? No, he couldn’t believe it? He had know Aaron’s father for forty or so years, man and boy, he’d seen Aaron grow up in front of him. Of course he could believe it.
“Oh, don’t you ‘wife’ me. Now, I’m going to go get ready, I will leave a shirt out for you, and you can wear whatever jeans you like with it, but not those black ones. It’s not a funeral were going to.”
She left the room, leaving Micheal alone. He watched her leave, then he turned off the television, took his coat off the hook, left his keys in the bowl and walked out the door, with no intention of returning.