The Goal

203

I look up, my eyes adjusting to the sudden light, and there she is.

"Julie? What are you doing here?"

Without answering, she's now stomping through the kitchen. As I get to my feet and stagger after her, the door to the garage opens. The light switch in the garage clicks. I see her in silhouette for half a second.

"Julie! Wait a minute!"

I hear the garage door rumbling open as I attempt to follow her. As I go into the garage, she's already getting into her car. The door slams. I zig-zag closer, wildly waving my arms. The engine starts.

"I sit here waiting for you all night, putting up with your mother for six hours," she yells through the rolled-down window, "and you come home drunk with some floozy!"

"But Stacey isn't a floozy, she's-"

Accelerating to about thirty miles per hours in reverse, Julie backs out of the garage, down the driveway (narrowly missing Stacey's car) and into the street. I'm left standing there in the light of the garage. The tires of her car chirp upon the asphalt.

She's gone.

On Saturday morning, I wake up and groan a couple of times. The first groan is from the hangover. The second groan is from the memory of what happened.

When I'm able, I get dressed and venture into the kitchen in quest of coffee. My mother is there.

"You know your wife was here last night," says my mother as I pour my first cup.

So then I find out what happened. Julie showed up just after I called here last night. She had driven over on impulse, because she had missed me and she had wanted to see the kids. She ap- parently wanted to surprise me, which she did.

Later, I call the Barnett's number. Ada gives me the routine of "She doesn't want to talk to you anymore."

When I get to the plant on Monday, Fran tells me Stacey has been looking for me since she arrived this morning. I have just settled in behind my desk when Stacey appears at the door.

"Hi. Can we talk?" she asks.