Chapter 2: The Weight of Happy
1237 Words
Monday mornings always seemed to start the same way.
Rush the kids.
Pack lunches.
Find missing shoes.
Sign permission slips that you swore you dropped but magically reappear five minutes before you leave.
Life moved so fast that you rarely had time to stop and think.
Becca loved that normally.
Her mind wouldn’t stop today.
“Mom!”
Her oldest hung halfway in the hallway, holding up a backpack.
“Have you seen my math notebook?”
“It was on the dining room table last night.”
“It isn’t there anymore.”
Her middle child yelled from upstairs.
“I used it for homework! I left it on the coffee table!”
“I told you guys not to move my stuff!”
“I put it back where it goes!”
“You put it back where it goes in YOUR house.”
Becca couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, kids…both of you, calm down.”
Her youngest sauntered into the kitchen holding a Pop-Tart like it was a sandwich.
“I found my shoes.”
“That’s great, honey.”
“I wasn’t even looking.”
Craig would’ve laughed if he were here.
She noticed without even thinking. Honestly, she didn’t realize she’d smiled until her oldest daughter looked up at her.
“You’re smiling again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her oldest smirked.
“It’s because of Craig.”
Flames rushed to her face.
“Stop both of you… You know EVERYTHING, don’t you?”
The youngest shrugged.
“Uh-huh.”
“We learned from the best.”
Missing…
After everyone rushed out the door, the house went back to its normal quiet state.
Becca reached for her coffee cup.
Then absentmindedly reached for her phone.
It buzzed.
Nothing.
Not one new message.
She screwed up her face.
Then immediately laughed at herself.
“Been… twenty-three minutes.”
She placed her phone back on the counter.
She wasn’t bothered by the silence.
In fact, it felt nice.
What threw her off was that she expected him to send her something.
After everyone left for school, Becca started a load of laundry.
Cleaned the shelf where she kept extra supplies.
Fed the sourdough starter that she’d recently taken back up caring for.
Yet…
Her mind kept drifting back to him.
She felt her phone buzz against the counter.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she grabbed it.
Craig
“Morning. Hope you find all the missing kiddos.”
She chuckled.
How did he know?
Wait…
She remembered.
He listened to her rant about school mornings yesterday.
She typed back.
“One was found hiding in the pantry.”
Three little dots appeared on her screen.
“I don’t want to know.”
“I know, right?”
“I’m not looking.” She smiled as she typed.
“No.” He replied almost immediately.
She sat there smiling at the conversation.
Normally, they would’ve kept talking.
Sent jokes back and forth.
Had plans to meet that night.
But not today.
Today was different.
Something as simple as texting made her happy.
That was enough for now.
Magic in the Morning Rush
By 10 a.m., the bakery looked like a zoo.
Fresh-baked bread was selling faster than they could bake it.
A young boy pressed his hands against the glass bakery case.
“Mom! Chocolate donuts!”
She sighed theatrically.
“We came here for bread.”
“But the donuts look lonely.”
Becca chuckled.
“I think they’ve found friends.”
The boy stared at her for a few seconds.
Then nodded slowly.
“Ok, I’ll go keep them company.”
The little boy’s mother smiled at Becca.
“Give us two, please.”
Becca nodded.
Linda leaned over while boxing cookies.
“You’re happier.”
“What?”
“You used to bring home everyone who came through your door.” She nodded at the bakery door.
“What are you talking about?”
“If someone were having a bad day…”
“I’d feel bad.”
“If someone was short with me…”
“I’d question why.”
Linda shrugged.
“What happened?”
“Nothing's happened.” She sighed, looking around the bakery.
“You care too much.” Linda finished for her.
Becca nodded slowly. There it was.
It sucked to say it out loud; it was happening.
Life After Craig
Someone walked into the bakery just after lunch.
Becca looked up.
Her heart stopped.
It wasn’t Daniel walking through that door.
It wasn’t anyone from her past.
It was Craig.
Walking in with a paper bag in his hand.
He smirked nervously.
“I come in peace.”
She giggled.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was passing by.”
“You weren’t.”
“I most definitely was not.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“So…”
“I brought you lunch.”
“You know I get lunch breaks.”
“I know.”
He held up the paper bag sitting in his hands.
“But I also know bakery workers forget to eat lunch sometimes.”
She couldn’t argue with him. Not when it was 100% true.
Linda glanced over at them both.
Then back at Craig.
“Oh.”
Craig raised an eyebrow at her.
“Oh?” Linda smirked.
“So, you must be Craig.”
His ears went slightly red.
“I’ve heard stories.”
Becca’s eyes got wide.
“Linda.”
“What?”
“I haven’t said anything.”
Linda winked.
“You don’t have to.” She smirked.
Craig chuckled.
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
Linda eyed him up and down.
“She smiles differently.”
Becca wanted to curl up and disappear.
“Linda…”
“What?”
“I may be older, but I can say what I see.”
Craig looked at Becca and smiled.
That simple gesture was all she needed to know everything was going to be okay.
Memories
They sat on a picnic table behind the bakery.
Craig pushed a sandwich her way.
“You remembered.”
“What?”
“No tomatoes.”
He looked at her blankly.
“You hate tomatoes.”
“I know.” She replied, smiling as well.
Sometimes it was the little things he noticed.
He never expected anything in return.
He never asked questions.
He just…
Noticed.
Becca looked at the sandwich for a few seconds.
“Are you ok?”
She slowly nodded her head.
“No one’s ever remembered something that small.”
Craig gently frowned at her.
“They should have.”
His voice was soft. Not meant to make her feel guilty for her marriage.
But to make a point.
Little Things
That night, Becca pulled into her driveway feeling weirdly sentimental.
She wasn’t overwhelmed with emotions.
Just…
Full.
She sat in her car for a few minutes before heading inside.
She thought about the sandwich.
The lack of tomatoes.
How Craig just knew without her having to ask.
For 20 years, she fell for grand gestures to help mend huge fights.
Now…
One little sandwich made her feel better than he ever had.
She laughed to herself.
Sometimes healing came in weird forms.
You didn’t always need a big ‘aha’ moment.
Sometimes.
Healing was remembering your significant other didn’t like tomatoes on their sandwich.
- Writer
