Swipe down, keep looking, you’ll know it when you see it.
You weren’t in a mood to skip tracks, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was exactly that you wanted to listen to while making dinner either.
You’d know it when you see it though.
A few more seconds pass.
Ah, there.
The sound of The Warning’s opening track to their album ‘Error’ can be heard through the Sonos sat on the top of the island counter in the middle of the room.
Placing the iPhone onto the island alongside the Sonos, you let your gaze fall onto the beautiful vision of your wife sitting on one of the stools on the other side of the island from you. She’s engrossed in a novel, but senses you glancing her way.
Smiling, she nods towards the Sonos.
(Vanessa): You’re really getting into them.
It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
And yes, their songs have certainly started filling up your On Repeat playlist this past week or so.
The smile turns playful and her tone inquisitive.
(Vanessa): Have you subjected Matthew to them yet?
You’re chuckling, shaking your head.
(Hans): Nein mein schatz, nein…
This time it’s you that’s nodding towards the Sonos as the next track starts to play, the short intro now complete.
(Hans): He’d like this.
(Vanessa): Oh that’s a shame.
She’s pouting, mockingly acting sad on your behalf.
(Vanessa): That’s just so not fair.
You play along.
(Hans): Jah, I know…
A shake of your head from side to side, eyes downward, shoulders slumped.
You give it a few seconds, before perking back up.
(Hans): I’ll always have Scooter thou…
You can’t even finish the sentence before Vanessa reaches across the island to try to swat at you. Dancing back, you’re both giggling like children.
Vanessa, still leaning half across the island gestures with a finger towards you in a threatening manner even if the tone of her voice and the cheshire cat wide grin is a complete contrast.
(Vanessa): Be nice to your friend Hans.
Setting herself back down, the finger ends up prodding back at herself now.
(Vanessa): And be nice to me too for that matter, you should be letting me control the music when we’re driving.
Ah, this.
The eternal battleground.
(Hans): Nein, so funktioniert das nicht.
(Vanessa): That’s exactly how it works!
(Hans): Nein, I’m the one driving, not ‘we’. ’We’ don’t share duties in driving.
(Vanessa): We do, we have our own responsibilities!
By this point you’re both starting to talk over one another, each of your lines intermingling.
(Hans): Are you changing gears? Nein! Steering? Nein! Directions? Nein!
(Vanessa): Oh like hell, you need me to navigate… and besides, you’ve got those stupid little flappy paddles anyway…
She does a small flapping motion, arms tucked into her frame, hands out, waggling them in emphasis of her point.
You find yourself completely sidetracked and snorting with laughter while she carries on for a few more seconds.
A few seconds pass while you recover, all the while your wife is looking like she’s won the argument.
(Hans): Do that again…
(Vanessa): Do what again honey?
You really are trying to hold back, but you let a snicker escape, as you try to mirror her movements. You crack up almost immediately, which sets Vanessa off.
(Vanessa): Oh get away with you Hans! You know exactly what I mean!
It’s a stand off now. You’ve had this ‘argument’ many a time and you’ll have it again.
You’re both staring at one another, this is usually how it goes. Who breaks first?
A few more seconds pass.
Vanessa’s still locking her eyes, unblinking, but she’s nodding towards the kitchen counter behind you.
The one you’d been prepping at until a few minutes ago.
(Vanessa): That dinner won’t make itself, will it?
You’re smirking, that was a good point.
Do you have a retort?
Her eyebrows are going up, she’s sensing victory.
Damnit, nothing comes to mind.
With the most overly dramatic roll of the eyes you can manage, you try to salvage things.
Muttering, not under your breath, you turn towards the counter.
(Hans): Ich fahre, ich koche…
(Vanessa): What was that babe?
(Hans): Ich liebe dich mein schatz.
With a pointed ‘uh-huh’ and a knowing look, she nevertheless blows you a kiss before returning to her book.
You chuckle, returning your attention towards the counter and the food prep you’re needing to do.
Reaching into one of the drawers, you extract a cutting board, laying it down onto the counter, your gaze drifting to the onions and garlic sat alongside one another a short distance away, various items of cutlery and implements further along the counter.
You go into auto pilot, you’ve made this meal many times before and you allow your thoughts to drift.
The last few weeks at the Academy had gone well, there was another new intake to work with, another few were getting closer to debuting on a ‘Before the Bell’ segment. There had been one or two cliques starting to form, you’d have your eye on that lest it turn into something, but that was about the worst of it.
You glance back at your wife momentarily as you reach for a knife, you had another appointment upcoming with the doctor over at the Center the following week. Hopefully good news.
And with that, the happy thoughts turn sour at the unwanted intrusion of Erica’s latest words and ominous foreshadowing.
Eyes narrowing, you clamp down on it.
Hündin.
Your knuckles grip the knife harder than needed as you stand there for a few moments, breathing slowly in and out of your nostrils.
If she knows better, she’ll stay down.
A more forceful exhale of air follows, you relax somewhat, continuing the prep work.
Several minutes pass and you find yourself heating the pan up, ready for the onions and crushed garlic to go in.
Your thoughts drift to the upcoming Ringmaster tournament. Everyone was gunning for it, as they should be. You would just have to want… no, need it more.
And I do.
The voice of your wife takes you out of your reverie.
Turning to face her, she’s gesturing at your iPhone.
(Vanessa): You’ve got a call babe, looks like Michelle.
She throws a thumb behind her.
(Vanessa): Sorry, I nipped to one of the other rooms, so didn’t hear it.
You take the iPhone from her, your wife picking it up off the island counter and handing it to you.
So it was Michelle.
(Vanessa): Go call her, I’ll keep an eye on this.
She shoos you from where you are, busying herself with picking up from where you’d left off with the meal.
You wander through your home to one of the back rooms, this one your wife’s office.
Bringing up the voicemail, you hear what Michelle has to say.
(Michelle): Hi Mr. Hans… I mean Hans, it’s Michelle.
You can’t help but smile, even now, she’s still one to call you Mr. Hans.
(Michelle): I’m sorry to bother you…. I was hoping to talk to you about something. It’s silly really, but I don’t have anyone else to confide in and once again a man’s perspective would be helpful to me. Could you give me a call when you get a chance, or maybe I’ll see you at the academy this week…. Ummm…. Okay… bye.
You consider shouting through to the kitchen that you’ll be a few minutes longer, but decide against it.
You bring up Michelle’s contact, hitting the ‘call’ button and bringing your phone up to your ear.
A few seconds pass.
(Hans): Hallo, Michelle… you called, jah.
The scene fades out to black as you and Michelle start to talk.
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