She sits, stares silently out the solarium window, and smokes a cigarette. Bernice wonders about the commotion in the nearby hallway and thinks about getting up to see what is going on but decides to finish her smoke. The noise stops. She lights another cigarette.

I'm not crazy, she thinks. She does not like being left alone with her thoughts.

He comes to see her, pausing briefly at the window of the solarium where he sees her sitting there, smoking. He misses her. He wishes she were home to share coffee conversation and full-body cuddles in their queen-size bed.

"Hello, Ryan," she says. "Come on in. I won't bite, you know."

He joins her on the tattered and faded love-seat next to the window. "How are you doing today?"

She doesn't look at him. "Fine, fine. How are the kids?"

"Kids are fine," he says. "They miss you. We miss you. What do the doctors say?"

"I don't know," she says, "you tell me. They won't tell me a thing."

Bernice doesn't remember much about the happenings of two nights ago. She looks at the cuts and bruises on her fist and thinks she may have broken the glass coffee table in her living room but can't say for sure. "Did I break the glass coffee table?"

"No...no." Ryan gently lifts her tattered hand to his lips and covers it with kisses. It's probably better if he doesn't mention that she launched a full-scale assault on every porcelain doll and fragile gift he'd ever given her before she tossed her wedding ring out of the second-story bedroom. He'd cleaned up the mess and looked for the ring, which was still lost in the leaves and tall grass of October, and swept up the remnants of the many gifts he'd given her in their ten years of marriage.

"Where are the kids?"

"They're staying with my mom."

"Did I frighten them? Are they all right?"

"Don't worry about them," he says. "They're fine. They miss you, though." He reaches in his jacket pocket for the "Get Well" card they'd made for her. "Here, I almost forgot this."

She looks at the flowers on the cover and reads the childishly scribbled words on the inside. It is signed "Love Becky" and "I love you, Mommy, from Tyler." She places the card in her lap. "I don't reckon you'll bring them round to visit me here," she says. She doesn't want them to see her like this.

"I don't reckon I will," he says.

"Maybe when I'm feeling better."

"Maybe."

Ryan stares at his shoes and wonders if his wife has had a nervous breakdown. All the doctors say is, "She's had a bad reaction to Paxil" and "That's what happens when medical doctors prescribe psych meds." He knows they're treating her for adult-onset bipolar disorder and he knows she's on a couple of new medications, but he wonders if they're helping her. She seems so...even. Complacent.

Bernice watches her husband, his eyes downcast, and she wonders what he's thinking. She knows she can't read his mind--at least that's what the doctors say--but she can't help but think...does he feel guilty? Does he understand how she felt when she discovered his love affair, his secret double life? She likes these new meds she's taking. She feels so...numb. Apathetic.

"Do you love me?" Bernice asks her husband.

He fixes his eyes on hers. "I love you very much. Do you love me?"

She lights another cigarette and stares silently out the solarium window.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...