Hidden Things –Part I

By Philip Lear

It’s Monday night after dinner and Joe’s sitting in the kitchen reading the sports section. His wife, Lila is in the bedroom getting ready to go out. She's going to one of her weekly concerts with her friend Liz. In the two years since she started going classical music has become her passion. Tonight he’ll watch the Giants play the Jets.

Lila comes into the kitchen and starts opening and closing the cabinet doors and drawers. He watches her beautiful face as she searches intently. She looks drawn and serious. He can tell she’s anxious.

"Did you see my glasses?" She asks.

"No I haven't," Joe answers. "Try to think back to when you saw them last."

She continues looking without success and as she does the urgency increases. She in the living room opening and closing breakfront and china cabinet doors. He hears the rustle of papers on the coffee table. She lets out a heavy sigh as she comes up empty.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. But it’s exceptionally bad when she’s going out. She’s back in the kitchen and gives him a look. It’s as though she’s wondering what he’s thinking.

“You see I’m trying to get there on time,” she says. ”If we don’t make it to the concert by curtain time they won’t let us in till the intermission. Help me.”

Joe starts to look and finds himself agitated by Lila not being able to keep track of her things. He goes through the bedroom and though he doesn't find her glasses he finds her car keys and a cell phone that’s not Lila’s or his. He picks it up and thinks about turning it on. But it’s not his. In the bathroom in a wicker basket he finds her glasses.

"They were in the bathroom," he says handing them to her. “And here’s your keys. They were in the bedroom along with a cell phone."

She pauses for a second and then responds.

"Oh that must be Liz’s,” she says. “I put it in my coat by mistake. I’ll return it to her.”

She takes the cell phone and heads for the door.

He wonders about the cell phone and about other things. There were the hang up calls and the strange books of matches. It’s a strange thing for a nonsmoker to carry. And there’s that name that she mumbles in her sleep. It’s not Joe. Who’s she dreaming about?

“I don't know what I do without you," she says as she gives him a peck on the cheek.”

"Have a great time," he says.

"See you later."

She’s flying out the door.

Joe breathes a sigh of relief. The whirlwind is gone. But his relief is short-lived. Two seconds later there’s a knock on the door.

"I forgot my license and credit cards," she says as she rushes up the stairs. “They’re in this little brown holder.”

The drill is repeated. He hears her opening and closing doors and drawers all over again. He’s starting to become aggravated. What did I do to deserve this? He thinks.

"I remember putting it under something," she says breathlessly.

"Well, if you start at the back end of the house and look under everything you're bound to find it."

She doesn't appreciate his humor.

" I vaguely remember hiding them under some towels in the laundry room," she continues." When those workman were here I didn't want to leave them out."

“You’ve got that locking cabinet. Why don’t you use it?” He says. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Now’s not the time for recriminations,” she says.

Lila has a knack for misplacing the things she's hid. She has a system for hiding things that her mother and grandmother passed down to her. She’ll put her credit cards here and her ring there. Under a shoe box, inside a purse in a corning ware dish. It’s how they hid things in Eastern Europe in the old days. But Lila hides so many things, and has so many little secrets that she forgets. It's secret upon secret and lie upon lie and sometimes her duel life catches up with her.

She finds her license and credit cards in the laundry room on a shelf.

“Got them,” she says as she leaves again.

He watches through the window and holds his breath hoping she won’t return. She drives off in the bright green Sentra he bought for her. She loves the car but hates the color. It’s too bright, too noticeable.

Joe imagines he’s riding next to her in the car in the passenger’s seat. As she speeds ahead, she clutches the wheel, looking alertly for openings, weaving through the stream of traffic. She’s watching the lights strung out in front of her anxious to reach her destination.

Joe thinks of the man who’s waiting for her at the other end. The man is nervously pacing back and forth in his apartment wondering where she is. She should have been there by now. Wine is chilling in the ice bucket and candles lit.

Joe has a pretty good idea what’s going on and for the moment feels somewhat detached. He knows he can’t control her feelings He loves Lila and hopes she’ll get over the other man. He’s knows that on some level she still loves him. But it’s been two years now.

Later, when she returns they’ll crawl into bed. She’ll lie on her back and he’ll stroke her cushion-like stomach. It’s flat and yet so beautifully soft. He’ll glide his fingers gently down her stomach from the navel to the birthmark just above her hairline. He’ll trace a circle around it and she’ll go on fire. Is that how it will be tonight? He wonders and waits.