Perfect Strangers

by LaCroix, Samantha

  Cover Photo Copyright Can Stock Photo Inc. / stryjek

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Perfect Strangers

  by Samantha LaCroix

  Chapter 1

  Veronica stood in front of the toaster, waiting for it to pop. Her face was expressionless as she stared at the wall, the plate in her hands, waiting. Behind her she heard the sound of the breakfast she'd made being eaten by her husband, Greg. The scrape of a knife and fork as he cut up some egg; the smacking of his jaws as he chewed; the slurp of coffee, no cream, just a bit of sugar.

  "Boy honey, these eggs sure would taste better if I had some toast to go with them," he said in between bites. Veronica put a smile on her face and turned around.

  "I know sweety, and I'm sorry again."

  "I just don't understand how you can forget to put the toast in at the right time," he said. "I mean, you've been doing it the same way for years now. It's not new to you, is it?"

  The smile remained.

  "No sweety, it's not new to me. I just forgot, that's all."

  "Well, what made you forget? Hmm? What were you thinking?"

  "I don't know, sweety," Veronica said just as the toaster popped. "Ah, here we go, all ready for you!"

  She turned and grabbed the pieces, putting them on the plate and bringing them to him. Just as she approached the table Greg stood up, wiping his face with a napkin.

  "Nah, you're too late, I'm already finished. Just throw them out or something."

  He walked out of the kitchen, leaving everything where it was. Grabbing his briefcase he made his way to the front door.

  "Have a great day, hon!" he called out as he opened it. "I'll let you know if I'm going to be late coming home!"

  "Goodbye!" Veronica called. "Have a great day at -"

  The door slammed shut. Veronica closed her mouth, her face falling back into its expressionless position. She looked down at the plate in her hand, two pieces of dry toast, sitting alone. Veronica sighed and walked over to the garbage. She pressed on the foot pedal and dumped the two pieces in, letting the lid fall back as she went to the fridge to get started on her own breakfast.

  ~~~

  Things didn't used to be this way for Veronica Callows. She didn't used to be so ... empty. She and Greg married when they were just 21, and they celebrated their 13th anniversary just the month prior. Thirteen years. Lucky number 13, she thought to herself as she poured milk over her bowl of Cheerios. Their marriage had started out as all marriages do: happy; excited; full of love. But after the years started falling off the calendar, things between them had started to change.

  The main difference between now and then, Veronica thought as she sat down at the table, is that Greg's become a lot more domineering than he used to be. There wasn't a morning where he woke up and was suddenly different. It had happened gradually, like the way the sun moves gradually across the sky.

  For example, Greg would sometimes mention off-hand that he should spend time with his buddies after work because he needed to "unwind". He had slowly stopped helping out with the house chores, citing that he was the one who did all of the "big" jobs (like renovating the upstairs bathroom that hadn't happened yet).

  And in the mornings, since Greg needed to get to work on time and Veronica just "stayed at home all day anyway", she was to make his breakfast for him and wait for him to finish (in case he needed anything) before cleaning up and making her own breakfast.

  Veronica stirred the Cheerios in the bowl, watching the milk slowly seep into the pores. How did things end up this way? How did she find herself stuck in this place and with nowhere to go? She still loved Greg or, at least, loved what Greg used to be. And a part of her really believed, deep down, that he could be that way again. That he could be romantic.

  She remembered how he used to write her poems when they were first going out, and read them to her under the stars. He would call when he knew she was away and leave silly messages, sweet nothings on the answering machine. When they were celebrating their second anniversary, they drove all night together to a spot on the coast just to watch the sunrise.

  But Greg's romanticism had slowly dwindled the older they got. Their lives began to fall into a routine, and the thrill of just seeing each other began to slip away. When Greg got home from work now, he no longer threw his briefcase aside and swept her up in his arms like he used to. Instead, he would head straight to the kitchen for a drink, sometimes not even saying hello as he passed Veronica in the hall.

  Veronica looked down at the cereal, the milk absorbed in the uneaten O's. Sighing, she stood up and carried the bowl over to the garbage, pouring the food on top of the toast. She went to the sink and began filling it up, stacking the breakfast dishes on the table as the water level rose.

  Veronica's personal life, like that of their marriage, had begun to stagnate as well. She didn't get a job when they bought the house, mostly because Greg's work was able to keep them in good finances. It was nice at first, being able to take care of the house and live comfortably, knowing that she had a husband who loved her. But as she found out, an unfortunate result of not having to work was not having having a reason to leave the house. And that meant not having a way to socialize.

  Veronica spent most of her days either cleaning or running errands, alone. She shopped, tidied, cooked, but for what? A husband who wouldn't notice if the living room furniture had changed colour. She kept things clean because if she didn't then she and Greg would just be living in a cluttered mess. But keeping things clean meant not making any new friends, and slowly losing the ones you already had.

  She turned off the sink and began washing the dishes, leaving them to dry in the rack. The house was silent, as it always was. The sound of water splashing, the steamy smell of liquid soap. Veronica stared at the tiled backsplash, washing one dish after another.

  There wasn't really anyone in Veronica's life, apart from Greg, to whom she could go if she felt lonely. And even then, Greg wasn't the most emotionally available person. She'd voiced this concern a few years back and he told her, without looking up from the TV, to just go out and meet new people. He didn't look up from the hockey game, not even when she left the room.

  Veronica, one day, decided to try searching on the Internet to see if she could find new friends that way. She looked up "how to meet new people" and was blasted with advertisements for dating websites and places for people to get laid risk-free. After sorting through the junk, she finally found a website that specialized in getting like-minded people together. If you liked cooking or reading horror novels, for instance, there were groups for that. Veronica searched through the various options, picking and choosing the ones that she thought she might enjoy.

  She tried going to a few meetings of different groups, just to see what they were like. Some of them she enjoyed and some of them weren't so great, and in the end she felt happiest with the outdoor walking group. A couple of times a week this group got together and went on a walk in a different part of town. They went through forests, into conservation areas, journeyed to local landmarks, all just for the sake of walking.

  She finished the dishes and unplugged the sink, listening to it drain. Drying her hands, she went upstairs to the bedroom, stripping off her clothes and climbing into the shower. As the hot water sprayed down on her face, she grabbed the loofah and body wash.

  Veronica found that she enjoyed the walkin
g group a lot. It was nice to be able to get out of the house and do something that wasn't related to shopping or running errands. And the other members were all very sweet. There were about two dozen of them, some around her age, but most of them were retired.

  She was on friendly terms with all of them, but no one really seemed interested in becoming good friends. All of the conversations she had were glib; polite ways to pass the time as they walked around a site. One woman, Nancy, was probably the closest thing to a friend that Veronica could get, but still a distance between them remained.

  So, Veronica was still where she was before joining the group: lost, alone, and with no one to talk to. There was no one she could confide in if she had a problem at home; there was no one on whose shoulder she could cry if she was sad. She kept attending the walking group, not because she was particularly drawn to it but because she didn't really have a reason not to.

  She turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself and around her hair. Walking into the bedroom, she opened the closet and picked out an outfit, not paying attention to what she grabbed. She began drying herself off, dressing herself and getting ready for the day.

  When she was all ready she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like someone you would pass in the street and not think twice about. She wasn't smiling. Grabbing her purse off the bed, Veronica went to the front hall, put on her shoes, and left the house to go shopping.

  Chapter 2

  Veronica walked up and down the grocery store aisles, her eyes glazed over as she looked from one food label to another. She grabbed a can of beef soup, checked the ingredients, put it in her cart. It nestled up next to some durian fruits, something Veronica saw when she walked through the produce aisle and had picked up on a whim. She thought it might be fun to get something unusual for a change, but in the back of her mind she already knew that Greg wouldn't be interested in it. She kept it regardless, trying now to find the type of chowder Greg usually likes to have on Sundays.

  "Veronica?" a voice piped up behind her.

  Veronica turned her head and saw Nancy, the woman from her walking group, pushing her cart towards her. Nancy was wearing a huge smile which Veronica immediately mirrored, her cheeks automatically pulling up into place.

  "Nancy, hi!" Veronica said, her voice feeling strained as she raised the pitch.

  Nancy reached her and gave her a hug.

  "How are you?" Nancy asked, beaming at Veronica. "God, it's funny running into you here!"

  "Yeah! And I'm good, thanks," Veronica responded. "Just picking up a few groceries."

  Nancy looked down into Veronica's cart, noting the durians.

  "Ooh, those look fun!" Nancy said, her eyes widening. "Trying something exotic for tonight?"

  "Yeah, I thought I'd spice things up a little bit," Veronica said. She tried to think of something else to say but couldn't. Nancy watched her, her smile slowly fading.

  "Well, I should get back to shopping," Nancy finally said. "Today's my son's birthday and I'm making him his favourite dinner."

  "Oh, what're you making?"

  "Pizza with double bacon and artichoke hearts."

  The image of a sizzling hot pizza appeared in Veronica's mind and she felt her mouth water. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out with Greg for pizza, let alone make one.

  "That sounds tasty," Veronica said. "I'm sure he's very proud, having such a great mom."

  "Oh, yes … thank you, Veronica," Nancy said, glancing around. "Well, I really should be off. It was nice running into you. I'll, um, bring some birthday cake to the walk tomorrow."

  "That would be great, I'm looking forward to it," Veronica said. Nancy pushed her cart around, continuing down the aisle. She disappeared around the corner and Veronica relaxed her face. She looked down in her cart. The durian fruit sat there, alone among the boxes and cans. Veronica picked it up and shoved it onto one of the shelves, pushing cans of soup backward. Leaving it there, she made her way to the checkout line, waiting for her turn to pay.

  ~~~

  When Veronica got home she figured that she should eat something, so she put some sliced tomato on toast and ate that before tackling the chores. She put the groceries away, vacuumed the living room, cleaned the upstairs bathroom, tidied up the TV room, and did a little gardening. When she had finished all of that she decided to sit down and read a bit to take the weight off of her legs.

  A few years ago she went to a church book fair and found a cheesy harlequin romance novel. She held it up to show Greg as a joke and he said that stuff like that was written for women who couldn't get laid anymore. When he turned away Veronica lowered it, looking at the cover. It showed a handsome, muscular man holding a woman in his arms. They looked to be from about the 1800s, and when she read the synopsis on the back it turned out to be about a pirate who swept a rich woman off her feet.

  She decided to buy the book anyway, partly because she was interested and partly because of what Greg had said. He didn't mention it on the car ride home, and when they got back she ended up stacking it on the shelf with the other books where it sat, forgotten, until just last week.

  As Veronica was dusting the bookshelves she came across it again and the memory of it came flooding back. She decided to try reading it, picking away at the story bit by bit whenever she was bored or needed a chance to escape.

  The woman on the cover, it turned out, was Lady Violet Winchester, wife of Sir Roland Winchester. In the story she gets kidnapped by pirates and taken for ransom on their ship. While there, Lady Violet finds herself developing strong feelings for one of the pirates, Emmanuel. Veronica knew it was all silly fluff, but it was still fun to escape into a life that she knew would never happen.

  Veronica read until well into the afternoon. When the clock struck four she began to put dinner together. Greg liked his meals to be ready and on the table the moment he walked through the front door, which was typically around a quarter after five.

  Veronica cooked up some vegetables and sliced chicken, deciding that they could have an oriental-style meal tonight. Every now and again she tried to steer away from the types of meals that she and Greg normally had. He was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy and frowned upon change, but Veronica didn't always like having the same thing over and over.

  At ten after five Veronica was setting the table, the food being kept warm in the oven, and at a quarter after five Greg walked through the door, right on time. When Veronica heard the door open she felt her grip on the utensils start to slacken, but she put them in place and went to go greet her husband, a smile on her face.

  "Hi sweety," Veronica said.

  "Hi," Greg responded, taking off his coat.

  "Did you have a good day at work?" she asked, taking the coat from him and hanging it up in the closet.

  "Ah, the usual bullshit. Sampson didn't want to turn in his report, saying that he didn't approve of the quality of the product he was supposed to be rating. Well, we told him it wasn't about the product, it was about the customer. But then he said ..."

  Veronica nodded along, waiting for Greg to finish ranting. Every day he complained about his work, and every day she waited for him to finish before they could continue into the house and have their dinner. She couldn't remember the last time he asked her how her day was.

  "... made him do it," Greg finished. He stared at Veronica, his face unsmiling. She realized a second too late that he was waiting for a response.

  "Oh, wow," she said, "that sounds like it was tough."

  "It was tough!" Greg agreed, and he pushed past her into the dining room as Veronica followed. "Anyway, that's what I had to deal with today. Where's dinner?"

  "It's in the oven, sweety, let me just go get it."

  Veronica left for the kitchen, listening to Greg's chair as he scraped it back over the floors. He settled his weight into it and let out a sigh. Veronica took the food back to the table and served it on their plates.

  "Honey, what is this?
" Greg asked, watching as she doled out spoonfuls of vegetables, chicken, and rice.

  "It's chicken stir-fry," Veronica responded, already knowing where the conversation was going to end. "I got the recipe from that cook book your mother gave me at Christmas."

  "You know, honey, sometimes you get an idea in your head and it hardly ever works out."

  "Yes, well, tomorrow I'll do something you recognize," she said, putting down the serving plate and sitting to her own meal.

  "I'm looking forward to it," he said, and the two began to eat in silence.

  The soft scrapes of forks against the plates and the occasional burp were all that filled the air. Greg kept his eyes on his food, chewing and swallowing without a word. Veronica watched him out of the corner of her eye as she pushed her food around on the plate, not particularly hungry. She took a sip of water, the glass clinking against the table as she put it back down.

  "So I ran into Nancy today at the grocery store," Veronica said, breaking the silence.

  "Who?" Greg said, not looking up from his plate.

  "Nancy Callihan, from the walking group," Veronica said. "I've mentioned her before."

  "You mean that thing you do where you just walk for hours and then come home again? Sounds pointless if you ask me."

  He took another bite as Veronica lowered her eyes.

  "Anyway, she said that today's her son's birthday. She's making him a pizza for dinner."

  Greg snorted. "Pizza. Kids don't need pizza, they need diet and exercise. All the kids nowadays are spoiled, fat little brats."

  Veronica put some food on her fork.

  "I thought it sounded like a fun idea," she said under her breath. Greg didn't respond and she put the forkful in her mouth, chewing slowly, tasting nothing.

  ~~~

  When they had both finished eating (Veronica's meal was hardly touched) she cleared the plates as Greg went to go watch the hockey game. She scraped the food from her plate into the garbage can, watching it fall over the dust and cereal from earlier. Grabbing the serving plate she turned to get a Tupperware container, but after a moment she scraped that into the garbage can as well. The muted sounds of cheering crowds floated in from the other room.