Heroic Measures (continued)

Walter frowned. He knew he had been late, had not called, so this was his fault. The problem was: he did not know how to fix it. He had not even thought to bring flowers. Well, in truth, he had. The idea crossed his mind very briefly before being dismissed, as he figured that doing so would make him even later. In retrospect, though, adding those few extra minutes would probably have greatly diminished the impact of his tardiness.

He put his fork down and tried to find Abigail's eyes. They eluded him, but he spoke anyway.

"Look, Abby," he said with sincere contriteness. "I'm sorry I was late. Really sorry."

Now she met his eyes with a fixed gaze. Walter could see the pent-up anger within them. He swallowed hard, trying not to let it show.

"I . . ." He trailed off, not at all sure what he wanted to tell her.

Abigail placed her own utensils down on the edge of her plate and faced him. Her hands were folded together in front of her on the tabletop.

Walter swallowed again, hoping his voice would sound more confident than he felt.

"I, um," he started again. "There was something I needed to do."

Abigail stared back at him. Her mouth moved ever so slightly; her eyes narrowed.

Walter stopped. He did not know what else to say without revealing everything. The silence between them grew until Abigail straightened in her chair. Her eyes brightened—whether with tears or anger, Walter could not tell.

"Walter," she said. Her voice carried a thin edge. "Is there someone else?"

Walter found himself struck speechless. Of all the questions she might have asked him, that one had never occurred to him.

"Umm," he stammered, trying to find his voice once again.

He felt himself begin to perspire, convinced that she was interpreting his hesitation as a clumsy admission of guilt.

"No!" he managed to blurt out.

There must have been something in either his expression or posture that convinced Abigail of sincerity. Her features relaxed from their tight anger, shifting now into a gentle sadness.

"What is it then?" she asked him quietly.

Her eyes were bright and Walter could tell that she was on the verge of crying. They spoke to him the questions that she could not say aloud.

Am I not interesting enough any more? Not pretty enough?