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"What would Greg say?" Nancy suddenly appeared beside Vero
nica, snapping her out of her trance.
"Huh, what?" Veronica replied. She spun around to face her friend. Nancy was looking at her with eyebrows partially raised, the open Tupperware container held out in front of her.
"You've been watching that new guy all morning," Nancy said. "I just think you should be careful. Some people might start getting ideas."
"What?" Veronica responded, blinking. "I don't ... come on, Nancy, don't joke about things like that."
Nancy's eyes narrowed for a second. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry," she said. "Do you want some more cake? There are just a few pieces left."
"Sure, thanks," Veronica said, and she took a piece but didn't start eating it. Veronica's cheeks became hot as she watched Nancy turn back around, walking to other members and offering them cake. Veronica noticed that she specifically avoided Jason, but he didn't seem to notice or care.
"Okay gang, break's over!" Doug called out. "Let's keep truckin'!"
Veronica shoved the piece of cake in her mouth, brushing the crumbs off her front and quickly glancing over at Jason. He was tucking the book back into his jacket, his expression one of calm solitude. She looked away, not wanting to be caught staring again. Nancy came over to join Veronica, a smile on her face as she held up the empty container.
"All gone!" she said and Veronica forced a smile as she swallowed her own mouthful.
The group began to move again and this time Veronica purposefully looked at everything but Jason. Nancy started chatting, talking about her family and what they were doing this upcoming weekend. Veronica only half-listened, muttering a reply every now and again.
Chapter 4
An hour later the group finished their walk, having circled around the conservation area and reached the entrance again. The members all said goodbye to one another as they departed for their cars. Veronica walked to her own car, taking her keys out of her purse as she did. As she was unlocking the driver's side door she glanced up and saw Jason get into his own car a few parking spaces away.
He had an old Chevrolet, though it looked to be in good condition given its age. It was painted black with a dark red interior and when Jason turned the key in the ignition the engine roared to life. Music started up inside and he sped out of the parking lot without looking back. Veronica stood and watched him turn the corner, disappearing from view. Shaking her head, she opened her own door and got into the car, turning it on and leaving the parking lot.
As Veronica drove home she began to think about her high school days. She had gone through a bit of a rebellious streak, but then again all kids do at that age. Her group of friends used to skip class together to go smoke behind the building, or sneak down to one of their houses at lunch hour and drink whatever alcohol they could find.
Veronica's grades didn't suffer from her behaviour, somehow, and she had managed to keep all of her bad behaviour from her parents. She was pretty sure that if she told them now about all the stuff she used to do, they wouldn't believe her.
Veronica straightened up her act when she went to university and her group of friends split up, but that spark in her was never quite extinguished. She studied hard to get good grades, but at the same time there were more than a few instances of sneaking onto campus at night, having sex on the professors' desks.
One night in her Freshman year she and her boyfriend at the time snuck up onto the roof of the Biology building and watched the stars. That was the first night she'd told anyone she loved them. He kissed her and they made love together in the open air. Their relationship lasted a little over a year, and Veronica looked back on it with fondness.
When Veronica met Greg shortly after she graduated he swept her off her feet. He was romantic, light-hearted, but at the same time showed her that he knew exactly what he wanted in life. She thought that being with him might help to guide her, get her onto the straight and narrow and live the life she always was told to live.
The two got married and Veronica soon found out that her rebellious nature wouldn't leave as easily as she's anticipated. They fell into a routine, Greg's romance started to go by the wayside, and stability and security became synonymous with boredom and loneliness. Now it was 13 years later, Veronica had everything she'd been told she would need, and yet still she felt so empty.
She pulled into the driveway, her eyes dull as she turned off the car. She got out, walked to the front door and put the key in the lock. As soon as she stepped into the house, however, she became immediately aware of how quiet it was. It was quiet every day, of course, but for some reason today she really noticed it. The house was dark, and quiet, and she felt like a stranger walking into someone else's life.
She dropped her purse and strode into the kitchen, looking around. It was the exact same as it had been that morning, and the morning before, and every morning before that. She looked at the table, where she sat and ate the same cereal every day. The drying rack held Greg's plate and the frying pan from cooking his eggs. She knew exactly what was in every cupboard, and on every shelf of the fridge.
Veronica's breathing became heavy. She walked into the dining room, looking at the places where she and Greg sat every night, eating dinner. What did they have to eat last night? Meat loaf? Chicken? She couldn't remember. What was she wearing? What did they talk about? What happened yesterday that made it stand out from any other day?
Her head was feeling light. She realized that her chest was heaving and she told herself to calm down, to get a hold of things. Grabbing onto the edge of the table she lowered her head, closing her eyes. She heard Greg's voice in her mind telling her about his day, complaining about Sampson and the reports, day in and day out.
Her fingers were tingling. She had to get control of herself. She had to make dinner for Greg because he liked it to be ready and on the table when he came home. If it wasn't then she wouldn't be living a good life, and her life wouldn't be right and she had errands that she had to run and chores to do and Greg ate his breakfast before she did because otherwise she would just fuck it up and everything would be ruined.
Veronica had to sit. She had to sit down right now or something bad was going to happen. She could hear a rattling noise and realized it was coming from her chest. She opened her eyes. Blurry. She had to sit down. The chair. Greg's chair. Greg sits there and she sits over there and that would never, ever, ever change.
Veronica lifted a hand and almost fell. Her legs felt weak. She couldn't stand. She tried lifting it again. She felt the back of the chair against her fingers. But then it was sliding. She was sliding. Falling. She felt a sharp pain in her hip and everything moved sideways. Her head hit the floor and the last thing she saw before it all went black was the mahogany leg of the antique table that she simply had to have.
~~~
Veronica's head was hurting. She opened her eyes but had to blink a few times to clear the gunk out of them. She saw a strange sight: a brown, wooden stick, intricately carved, resting on what appeared to be a cream carpet. It took her a second to realize that it was the leg of her dining room table, and that she was looking at it because she was … on the ground? That didn't make sense.
She tried getting up but the arm pinned beneath her exploded with pins and needles. Wincing, she pushed up with her other arm so she was in a sitting position. She had a splitting headache. She tried moving her fingers slowly until the pain in them went away. She was vaguely aware of a dull throb in her hip, but she ignored that for now.
