I spend the entire next day in my workshop. I've got a quickly approaching deadline, and after slacking off a few days, I'm now scrambling to meet it. I end up skipping lunch just to see this project through, and by the time night falls, my entire body is aching.

I drag myself into the house and flop down on the couch. Seth has yet to come home and I'm not about to make dinner, so I do the next best thing. I order pizza... again. I've got just enough time to shower and dress before the delivery man rings the doorbell.

I'm nearly ready to start chewing off my arm, so the timing could not be better. I flick on the TV and plop down on the couch with one slice of pizza between my fingers and the box filled with its brothers and sisters sitting on my lap. I'm not sure if any of them will survive tonight. I'm that hungry.

I'm not surprised when I glance down an hour later to find that I've devoured six pieces of meat-lovers delight. I'm literally a bite away from exploding all over my beautiful living room. Pizza splattered walls would not be the best way to welcome Seth home though, so I place the almost empty box next to the couch and slouch back in a way that gives my stomach as much breathing room as possible. I'm absolutely miserable. Achingly full and dreading the last three pieces of pizza that I shoved into my pie-hole.

With a food coma well on its way, I settle on a horrible slasher flick and let my eyes droop shut. I'd get up and take a soothing bath, but I worry that if I bend my body even a little bit, I'll combust. So I remain sprawled like a starfish on my sofa. The seconds tick by and before the clock hits eight, I'm completely passed out.

I don't wake up until ten-thirty, and I'm not surprised at all to find the house is empty. A small part of me wonders if I'll find Seth in our bed, or crashing in the guest room, but a quick investigation reveals that he's not home. Big surprise there.

Annoyed, I huff my way to the bathroom to scrub the pizza scum from my teeth. By the time I've washed my face, I'm fully awake. Typical. Now I get to lay in my bed and let my mind wander over all the horrible things going on in my life.

Not willing to let Seth ruin my solo movie and pizza night, I grab my keys and wallet and hightail it to my car. I know I probably should have changed before leaving, but I couldn't be bothered. I'm accustomed to strange stares anyway, so it's not really a big deal.

I glance down at my flannel pajamas and shrug. They're really not that bad. Plus the words "Don't Judge" written in bold red font on the front should let people know exactly what I think about their conspicuous side glances.

I pull up in front of Yogurt Utopia and hop out. Swinging my keys around my finger, I trudge my way towards the window. I'm actually surprised to find several families milling around. At this time, I'd expect children to be snug in their beds, and yet there are several eyeing me from the safety of their momma's arms.

"Aw, shoot," the young girl behind the counter says as I approach. "You just missed the weekday special."

And that's the moment I realize it's Friday. No wonder this place is crawling with children. The only thing I can't figure out is why they didn't just wait another hour to end the special. At least then the weekday would actually be over.

"But it's still the weekday!" I want to scream, but instead, I just say, "It's fine," and wave her off with a smile. "I'll just take the Chocolate Fantasy please."

She jabs my order into the machine and I hand over the money. With dessert in hand, I make my way to a bench sitting beneath a small maple tree. I shouldn't be doing this. I already feel the guilt sweeping over me, but then the yogurty ice cream hits my tongue and I suddenly don't care about anything. I'm pretty sure ice cream was invented solely for me because no one could possibly be as happy as I am right now as the flavors soak into my taste buds like water in a sponge.

I close my eyes and moan behind my lips. This is what happiness is: ice cream. And here I thought I didn't care for sugar. I was wrong. Way wrong. I think I like sugar and meat with equal passion. I'm nearly certain that the roads of heaven will be made of Oreos and paved with ice cream.

"You sound like my dog when he's trying to—"

"Jimmy, shut up!"

My eyes fly open to see two kids, a boy about seven and a girl nearing twelve-ish, standing in front of me. Both are staring at me with wide innocent eyes. I have no doubts that Jimmy's attempted comment was directed at me, and just imagining what he might have been about to say has a laugh gurgling past my lips.

"I'm like your dog in more ways than one," I tell the boy. I'm trying to hide the smile on my face, but it's not working.

"Really?" he says, perking up at the fact that I'm not irked by his comment. "How?"

"Well," I say, watching him suspiciously and pulling my ice cream closer to my chest to keep it protected. "If you get too close to my frozen yogurt, I'll bite."

His smile widens and he doesn't hesitate to join me on my bench. Obviously, he didn't take my threat seriously.

"So, you're Jimmy, huh?" I say, tapping his elbow with my own as I take another bite of my Chocolate Fantasy.

"Yup." He doesn't look at me when he responds. Without lifting his gaze from the piece of heaven in his hands, he tips his head towards the small girl watching us. "That's my sister, Heather."

"I'm Mercy," I tell them before glancing around at the happy families chattering at crowded tables. "You two here alone?"

"Yep." He pauses to take a sloppy bite and then runs his sleeve over his lips before continuing. "Mom dropped us off."

"Oh."

"She was yelling at daddy and didn't want us to hear," he mutters without shame. "They don't like each other."

I can almost hear the sorrow in his voice, but he shields it well. Makes me wonder just how long mommy and daddy have been arguing for this kid to have gotten so good at hiding his pain. I see Heather shoot her brother a look of warning, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"They're gonna divorce."

"Jimmy!" his sister chastises, but the boy only shrugs, obviously not bothered by his own admission.

The word 'divorce' has Seth flashing through my head. What if he's home now? If he is, shouldn't I be there trying to save our marriage? Instead, I'm shoving frozen yogurt into my mouth and teasing small children. I'm a horrible person.

A honk of a horn to our left signals Jimmy and Heather to leave. They wave their goodbyes and abandon me to finish my dessert alone. It doesn't take long though, and within minutes, I'm making my way back home, ready to face this challenge of mine.

Only, when I pull into the driveway, I realize that Seth still isn't home. All the lights are off and his car is still gone. I sigh into the stillness of my Toyota. Looks like I'll be having another night on my own.

———

I'm lounging on the couch eating a pastrami sandwich when my phone rings. Digging through the blankets draped over my legs, I finally find it shoved into the cracks of the couch. Snatching it up, I answer the call and mumble a hello around the large bite of food in my mouth.

"Mercy?"

"Hey, Momma," I say with a smile. I haven't talked to her in ages, and I'm thrilled that she took it upon herself to call me first this time. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she says, and by the slightly distracted tone in her voice, I wonder if she's watching one of her many soap operas. "Wanna hang out?" The question sounds so out of the blue, but I know better; she's had time to think this through.

I chuckle softly at how young she tries to sound all the time. It was like the moment I hit twenty, she shifted from mom to best friend.

"Absolutely," I say, jumping from the couch and taking another bite of my sandwich as I hobble down the hallway to my room. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder as I shimmy my way out of my sweats. "What do you wanna do?" I mutter through the sandwich clenched between my teeth.

"Well, I was thinking that we could have a party."

I freeze in my attempts to yank a pair of tights over my butt. "Huh?"

"Your dad's out of town for the weekend, and I think it'd be the perfect time."

Everything makes sense now. Dad is sort of a stickler for tidiness. He's a lovable, teddy bear of a man, but when it comes to order, he's a drill sergeant. It's not so much that he needs cleanliness; it's that he can't handle his routine being disturbed. This really messes with poor Momma's overly spontaneous needs.

"What should I bring?" I mumble, sliding a lightweight black sweater over my orange tights.

"Just yourself," she tells me. "I already bought everything."

"Oh," I say. "Great." I smile, knowing that she's probably struggling to hold back her excitement right now. "I'll be over in five then."

We hang up, and I make quick work of twisting my hair into a messy side braid and slipping a stylish, cream-colored turban over my head. I tie it off at the back and pull on my ankle boots. With a quick text to Seth, letting him know I'm visiting my Mom, I head out.

She lives two blocks over, and I'm pulling into her driveway before I can properly fasten my seatbelt. I slip out of my small car and clack my way to the front door, my heeled boots kissing the floor with a sharp staccato as I take each step.

I swing the door open, announcing my arrival with Shania Twain's "Honey, I'm Home." It's nearly painful for my own ears if I'm being entirely honest. My voice could use a few decades of work. Even dogs shy away from me when I sing. Actually, thinking about it now, my voice could be used as a pretty decent weapon. Too bad I spent my entire childhood perfecting my beat-boxing skills when I could have been perfecting my ability to serenade people to death. This is the reason I listen to rap. I can still participate in the song without blowing out people's eardrums.

"Mercy!" My mom says, rounding the corner and pulling me into an oxygen-depriving hug. "Come on," she orders, not sparing me a backward glance as she swiftly disentangles herself from me and leads me down the hall. "The party's this way."

I enter the living room and am not surprised to find the party exactly how I imagined it'd be. There's one whole table crammed with cookies, beer, chips and salsa, cheese, crackers, and four logs of summer sausage. A variety of teas sit artistically sprawled in a way that entices even the tea-haters of the world to want a taste.

This is true happiness right here.

I tiptoe forward, snatching a cube of cheese up and popping it into my mouth. A selection of DVDs sits on the side table, and I quickly glance through the titles. Man, my mom knows me well. She's got everything from 'Night of the Living Dead' to 'The Wizard of Oz'. I might just never leave my parents' home if this is what Momma's parties look like.

We settle on watching 'The Call' with Halle Berry, and though I've seen it before, I still find myself clinging to the edge of my seat in anticipation. Before we know it, the day is gone. It'll be getting dark soon and I know I need to return home in case Seth actually needs dinner. I'm not particularly hungry now that I'm bloated with meats and cheeses, but that doesn't mean I won't cook up a gourmet meal just to get my husband's attention.

It's sad really. The things I'm willing to put myself through just in the hopes of seeing him smile or offer a 'thanks' in appreciation. If I'm being honest with myself though, there's a small chance he'll be home tonight. He's been coming home more often lately, and I'm just waiting for him to realize it and backpedal himself into his old routine of ignoring me entirely.

Of course he's not home when I get there, nor has he responded to my text from earlier. So, knowing I've still got plenty of time, I throw myself onto my bed and doze off. I wake about an hour later, groggy and irritated with the desire to sleep forever. I hate that foggy phase of coming out of deep sleep during the middle of the day. It somehow makes me feel as though I've wasted my entire life and I can't help but regret not just waiting until night.

I pad down the hallway, my toe-socks muting the sound of my steps as I walk. The house rings with a familiar quiet, and I know before I even enter the living room that Seth isn't home. A peek out the curtain confirms my suspicions.

It's only five, and though I've just spent the day partying with my mom and sleeping away my life, I already feel massively bored. I want to leave this small house and get away for a little bit, but I can't. The hope of making even a fraction of progress with Seth keeps me rooted in place. There won't be any adventures for me tonight... just like there haven't been any for the past few months. Last night's frozen yogurt run was about the biggest adventure I've had in a long time.

Not sure of what else to do, I head to the bathroom and pull off my clothes while I fill the tub. My body still aches from all the work I'd thrown into my most recent wood project. And though I haven't heard from Steve in a while, I'm already anticipating his call. He'll have a new project for me in no time.

Once the tub is full, I slide into its almost skin-searing hot depths. I have to take it slow or risk second-degree burns. After lowering myself into the lavender-scented water, I lean back with a sigh of delight.

The minutes tick by as my mind swarms with ideas. I'm still mentally perfecting a plan of action, but so far I'm clueless. I feel like I've done everything in my power to win Seth back. I've cooked and cleaned. I try not to push his buttons or cause irritation with ceaseless questioning. I'm not the jealous, answer-needing wife. And yet, he still works to avoid me. I just can't fathom what's pushing him away.

I'm not sure how long I've been soaking when a flash of panic floods my veins. I suddenly realize I've abandoned my duty to make him dinner. But just as quickly, it fades. Most likely, he took it upon himself to get dinner. Maybe he's enjoying a client dinner date. The thought nearly has cheese and sausage making their way up my throat, and I'm definitely not ready for round two with either. Pushing any negative thoughts from my mind, I try to ignore the tickle of fear that's forcing itself upon me. Deciding not to bother worrying about it any further, I sink back into the enveloping warmth of my bath.

I've just allowed my eyes to drift shut when the bathroom door swings open. I nearly bolt right out of the tub at the sudden intrusion. I'm not one to bathe in a tub of frothy bubbles, so when I see the look of complete shock on Seth's face, I hurry to cover my exposed body. If his hand sliding to the back of his neck in discomfort is any indication, he definitely saw more than either of us wants to admit.

"Sorry," he says in a hurried rush, his eyes not diverting from me. I even see his gaze flash beneath the water again before he shakes his head and backs away. "I didn't realize you were in here."

Seeing the bewilderment on his face almost causes a laugh to slip past my lips, but instead, I just smile.

"It's okay," I say, watching as he continues to stand in the threshold. His hand is on the doorknob as if ready to flee, and yet, his feet don't bother to move. "Did you need something?"

At the question, he finds my eyes with his own again. He's shaking his head before he even answers.

"No. Sorry."

And then he's gone.

The click of the door echoes into the small room long after he's gone. If I'm not mistaken, I could almost swear I saw desire in his eyes and a flicker of attraction. If he was so repulsed by my appearance, he wouldn't have spared me a second glance. But, I'm pretty sure he offered a third, fourth, and fifth glance as well.

A proud grin slips onto my lips. Maybe he never realized just how seriously I'd taken my membership at the gym. While I'm still highly allergic to lifting weights, I've formed somewhat of an addiction to swimming. Who knew that swimming could whip a person into such nice shape? When he started spending less time with me, and more time at work, I began spending more time toning up my form in hopes of getting a reaction from him. After nearly five months, I've finally gotten one. Totally worth it.

During college, I'd sort of let my body go. I was never fat, but I lacked any sign of athleticism. My arms were slim and flat, no muscle definition to be seen. Let's just say that I was soft in all the wrong places. So, when our marriage started getting really rocky a few months back, I decided to take it upon myself to at least give him the opportunity to see what he would be missing out on if he ever left me. Well, tonight, he definitely saw some of my hard work on display for the first time. And though immature, a small part of me hoped that'd be the spark that would revive our marriage.

How naive of me.