I realized that I was still dressed and swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She must have gone to bed in the spare room to not wake me. Then I noticed I had blood on my shirt, so I started to unbutton it. Ginger looked up eagerly from the floor, probably anxious to get out to pee.Still feeling groggy I shuffled into the bathroom to pee myself as I pulled off my shirt. Ginger padded in and looked at me expectantly. “Just a minute girl,” I said as I finished and flushed. “Let’s get you outside.”Ginger eagerly followed me down the hall and as I passed the spare bedroom I looked in, expecting to see Marissa asleep, but the bed was empty and hadn’t been slept in. “Was she on the couch?“ I wondered. I plodded on. The house seemed empty. She wasn’t on the couch.Opening the French doors to let Ginger out, I said loudly, “Marissa?” to an apparently empty house. Was she still at the neighbors? Ginger looked at me questioningly as she crouched over the lawn to pee. “I guess your. This year would be different. No David and Tori, and especially no Ed - who for all his faults had been fun at times like this. Now there were no more druggie nights, just the forlorn hope that I would see Margaret at some time over the holidays, but suspecting that she would be doing something else, mysteriously, with family or friends.The weekend before Christmas, I was at Margaret's all day on Saturday. We'd had great sex through a long afternoon in front of the fire in the library, and Margaret had withdrawn to her bedroom. She often did this, temporary solitude seemed to revitalise her, and sometimes, when we were, so to speak run in, the evenings developed a special intensity. Normally I enjoyed these times of quiet reflection, but today my mood darkened when I was left alone, and instead of looking forwards, my thoughts travelled back.I wandered the edges of the library, the tiles nearly dry from a necessary mopping an hour ago. Soon I could unroll the rugs again. Damp logs.
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