Walking In… By J.D. Fratto

EDITOR’S NOTE: J.D. Fratto is the author of recent novella “City Blocks” published by CatOnBall, the book length work imprint of FreedomFiction.com

Please Visit https://www.catonball.com/

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Walking In… By J.D. Fratto

I arrived late, owing to traffic issues, and even the door-jam to the house added a delayed belligerence.

No matter: so, I flop into a once-comfy couch with my Benny Lukes short story, when in walks Wifey – Lovely to be sure, especially when she smiles – or am I being self- flattered in assuming that the smile might reflect her pleasure of seeing me? One never knows.

I say: “You’re home late. I expected you to be purposely in the kitchen amidst the vibrant smells that only your brain can conjure.”

“Sorry Hon, but I’ll get right to it.”

She then informs me that she spent the prior two hours mollifying her friend, Elise, whose marriage is nose-diving (to a point where it should be), owing to Hubby’s recent employment of his over-active cheating gene.

A half-hour goes-by and dinner is served, details of which aren’t necessary. Let’s just say we both survived it and happily moved-on to espressos and cognac (just one each).

Addie, (that’s her) then says that her chat with Elise was odd because after revealing the actual specifics about Hubby’s philandering, they moved-on to list his other marital crimes to include gambling, drinking, smoking, cursing, uncleanliness, TV excess (that goes with sports mania), raucous driving behavior, dislike of in-laws and whatever else one might conjure.

I respond with a likely, but palid, male defense: “Could Elise have been more negative? No wonder he cheated.”

Addie’s responds to my response: “Elise didn’t make the list. I did.”

“YOU? So, am I the source for your wifely wisdom? Am I the bearer of those smokey/dirty/cheaty/noisy/grumpy pythons of the male spouse?”

“It didn’t apply to you.”

“Not by inference?”

“How was dinner?”

“Considering it only took 15 minutes to prepare? Let’s say fair. “I’ll check in with my stomach later and let you know.” In the meantime, feigning pro-spouse behavior I offer to help with the dishes.

That was Tuesday, when, resulting from a prior agreement, we spend one evening per week reading instead of watching TV. We decided on this a few months ago and have been fairly consistent at enforcement. Then, it was off to bed for a brief snuggle followed by an unscripted Snoring Duet.

The next morning at breakfast, I confronted Addie about her list of husband flaws, claiming it to be an unfair stereotype and raising the issue that in some cases the infidelity of one partner can be attributed to the behavior of the other. For example, that a husband’s decision to cheat on his wife could emerge from the lack of affection on her part – or something else. I was surprised and somewhat pleased that instead of raising the banner of womanhood, she agreed, and generously added that, in fact, either of the spouses might be susceptible under the right – or wrong – conditions; thereby ending the discussion on that subject.

We then turned to the present; that being what was in store for us that Wednesday. She reminded me that we agreed to an afternoon spent at the museum that was boasting a new show of Scandinavian Art to include works by my favorite, Edvard Munch, and a female modernist, somebody Andressen.

However, she then reminded me that in the evening she had a dinner date with a former colleague, Sue Holstein, and that I was free to watch TV as my old college basketball team would likely drop another one. Lunch at the museum went well; better then prior ones and afterwards we ventured into the various galleries to observe modernist paintings from the north country – plus an additional ante-room series of early 20^th Century DADA for me. For the most part: the traditional northern pieces were rural and somber, though they got it right. However, the ‘tween-the-wars-modernists were enigmatically bizarre and content-wise worthy of second thoughts.

At home, after a few hours of leisure and minor chores, Addie prepped herself for her night out with friend, Suzie. Having once finished her bodily adornments, she presented herself to me and I, though surprised by the clear over-dressiness of her choosing, complimented her since she actually looked lovely. Upon leaving, she said she wouldn’t be out late and would be home by eleven at the latest; that a new friend of Sue’s would be joining them, and things depended on how much chatter the three of them might project. I told her to enjoy the evening and that I’d wait up for her. After hugs carefully applied, she exited, mounted the Lexus and drove off.

Suddenly, the house took on an excessively quiet mode, consonant with its companionable sparseness. Fifteen minutes later, I finished the day’s newspaper and moved into the TV room for a visually environmental escape. We had recently purchased one of those streaming programs, which happily negated commercials and therefore added comfort and continuity to the viewing experience. Moreover, it was loaded with foreign films, underscored in English. I chose to skip basketball and leaned toward a foreign French murder film that’s part of a series of such, filmed among the country’s numerous regional vineyards with the oenologist starring as the crime sleuth. In earlier years, I visited, albeit superficially, the lush vineyards of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Languedoc, and the Rhone, all of which stirred the romance of my post-college youth. I even met a young woman on these travels and although the relationship didn’t get very deep, the overall moment of being with a woman in a sublime foreign setting lodged a romantic spear into my heart that I could never unplug. And too, a lifelong affection for the wines has been more than a predictable by-product of those three unforgettable weeks as well as a metaphoric retention of the moment itself. So much for youth. In fact, there’s little time for dreaming because, although I forgot to mention this to Addie, I have been asked to put a temporary halt to my current retirement and take on a consulting contract with my former employer. It would be a one-month stint; two weeks of it away in Ohio, where the client, a railroad locomotive-parts firm, is housed. How could I have forgotten to tell Addie this? The project was to start in two weeks and the payoff to me was sizeable.

11:45. Addie enters the front door.

“Wow!” I say: “that must have been some discussion. It’s too late now, so tell me about it in the morning – only don’t repeat it word for word or I’ll miss daylight. And by the way, I have something big to tell you, but it’ll hold off ‘til breakfast.”

She responds an OK, and adds “plus, there’s a lot more to consider. Tomorrow is fine.” She adds: “I can’t even imagine what we covered but I’ll fill you in tomorrow. And…be sure to sit comfortably because the ramifications are demanding. “All the while, she’s smiling, gleefully, about the subject matter whatever that might be. Well, I didn’t lose a night’s sleep and morning came in its usual repetitive manner and when I went downstairs, I noticed that the breakfast table was overly set and on it was a slight stack of colored brochures, which, in accordance with Addie’s command, were not yet ready for me to ponder. I was told simply to sit and enjoy breakfast while she laid-on whatever was verbally and visually on its way. I obeyed, though by now I began to feel, for no clear reason, a slight insecurity bubbling up inside me.

After placing on the table all that is to be orally consumed, Addie plops down across from me and with a slight lean forward stares straight at me while reaching to hold my left hand. I remain firm. She whispers, “We’re going to Switzerland.” I remain neutral, i.e. “Swiss”. Naturally, my response had to be tepid but considerate. “Addie”, I said, “I’m afraid I’m accounted for during probably the better part of this month – and a little beyond that. Lou Brennan asked me to take on a project that involves at least two weeks in Ohio and a similar amount around the edges.”

She looks at me and says: “and you’re being paid for this?” “Generously”, I answer. She then let’s out a soft smile and says, “That means in about four or five weeks we can leave for Europe and you’ll have newly earned cash to add to our fun abroad. Look at it this way: the trip will serve as a blissful rest for all the lonely late-night efforts you suffered under contract. Am I right?”

“I guess so, if you really want to push this thing.”

Her response was quick “PUSH? THIS THING? I can see the prospect of the trip excites you.”

Four Weeks Later

From my perspective, things went as expected. Brennan handed me a generously grafted check, coupled with pleased compliments on the project’s outcome. He added that it bodes well for the future, as his company continues its growth, and that he looked forward to our repeating similar arrangements on a project- by- project basis.

Addie and I had agreed not to discuss the Switzerland issue while I was busy hustling back and forth to Ohio since there was a serious need for me to remain project-focused. Needless to say, she remained quietly on the case and spent much of her time I guess with friends rather than at home with Hubby. She also had a few lengthy meetings with a travel expert: Rudy Jenkins, who was a specialist of sorts on Swiss tourism. However, now, the time had come to meld our joint projects into one that involved pleasure and perhaps even drama, owing to that country’s highly touted scenic beauty and the fact that the experience would be a new one for us since prior trips involved France, Italy, and England, with only a short stint in Switzerland.

We discussed where the launching point would be: Zurich? Luzern? Geneva? Basel? It all depended on what region best portrayed the activities and scenes we were most anxious to explore. Of course, in addition, during my contract period, Addie spent days in the local library, the neighborhood bookstore, and meetings with now-friend Rudy, storing up evidence that would enhance the trip. We then had a final meeting with Rudy for added information gathering and to offer him our travel contract. He could not have been more professional: knowledgeable, articulate, friendly and with a hardworking manner that assured us that whatever had to be done, he would do it. He had been to Switzerland several times and happens to have been thinking about visiting Lake Lucerne soon, owing to his fondness for scaling its famously challenging lakeside mountains.

Our trip was scheduled for two weeks hence and within four days after our meeting with Rudy, the package was complete. We would fly into Zurich and after a two-day respite there, we’d move-on to Lake Lucerne, just an hour away. After three days of trolling its Lake and walking the mountain passes, we’d go south to Geneva. It wasn’t so much the city itself that attracted us, even though it is one of the world’s most renowned, but its remarkable lake that is strewn with lovely resort-friendly towns and a plethora of museums and lush vineyards. And right across its lake is France! For me, visiting those vineyards, accompanied by their free tasting sessions and instructional meetings, would be the highlight of the trip. But suddenly everything changed.

We were having lunch in the town center square in Nyon, just northeast of Geneva on Lac Leman and across the lake from Yvoire, the splendidly ancient tourist town in France where we had spent the night once a few years earlier. While dining, I looked at Addie and could see that something was not quite right with her. She wasn’t looking at me but seemingly not at anything else. Her glossy eyes were just moving back and forth from right to left but there was nothing in focus. “Addie, what are you doing?” But she simply kept on looking; left then right but without anything in focus. “I was thinking of my friend, Suzie; wondering how things are going with her and her husband. She’s supposed to confront him with his misdeeds this week. “Honey” I said, “We’re on vacation. Give it a break! Or, if you want, why not give her a call – not a prolonged one but a quickie – enough to give her some security.”

“No, she said; it’ll be OK. Let’s change the subject. You’re right; we’re on vacation, and we’re having a great time.” That night, as we prepared for bed, I followed into the bathroom after Addie had just exited. On the sink, she had forgotten her cell phone, which was still open. I reached down to get it for her, and I saw a message that had recently arrived. It said “Thanks for your kind note concerning my help with your trip. I always try my best. You can’t imagine what those meetings have come to mean to me – i.e. how much I miss you. Hurry back.” Rudy.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright J.D. Fratto 2025

Image Source: Disarm from Pixabay