I felt like I could pass out. This report took everything out of context, and now the entire world thinks I’m a controlling hell-bitch!

Would he ever get tired of me like the story said? Does he want someone tending to his needs or will he think I’m crowding him one day? I remembered what happened when I dated Dean. He didn’t want someone to take care of him. Every time I tried to be a doting girlfriend, he pulled further and further away.

Am I already ruining this relationship? Have I stepped onto the wrong path and didn’t even know it? I don’t think I’m controlling him. Am I? Would he think that I was trying to smother/mother him by setting out his phone, keys, and a pack of gum? Maybe I shouldn’t do that anymore.

Ten minutes ago I was blissfully happy and now I was a complete and utter mess inside. I curled up under my quilt on the couch and tried to distract myself with television. It didn’t help; my mind raced and a few tears of uncertainty and insecurity dripped down onto the pillow.

Why do I hear music playing? I pondered in my dream. I suddenly woke, hearing my cell phone play in the kitchen. I was a little disoriented.

How long had I been sleeping? I looked at the clock on the DVD player – it was a few minutes before ten.

I tossed the quilt off my legs and plodded to the kitchen. My cell phone showed two missed calls – both from Ryan.

I called him back immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked loudly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I fell asleep on the couch. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh. “I got worried when you didn’t answer.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated, rubbing my eyes. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s tolerable. We just took a break. Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor? Remember the other day we talked about taking my mom out for her birthday but we never looked up restaurants. Cal told me about a restaurant someplace outside of Providence called Sabatinis or Salatinis, something like that. I tried to find it on the net but I can’t locate it.”

“Let me look.” I bumped the mouse on my computer to get the screen saver to clear. The cause of my mental breakdown earlier was still on the screen. “I’m searching for Italian restaurants Providence,” I informed. I paged through the results.

“La Scalatini’s? Does that sound like it?” I asked. “It’s located in Wyndham which is outside the city.” I clicked on the link to their website.

“Cal, can you come…La Scalatini, was that it? Excellent! Honey, is there a phone number?” I read the number to him.

“Great! I’m going to make a reservation for Friday. What time do you think? Eight-thirty or nine?”

“What time are you getting off of set Friday?”

“Seven. What do you think?”

“Let’s shoot for nine, then we have extra time in case we need it,” I replied.

“Sounds good. Are you going out today?”

“No. I have things I want to do around here.” I thought about cleaning the apartment and finishing the laundry. “I have to wash our dirty bed sheets,” I snickered.

“Yeah, you did make a mess of things last night!” he teased.

“I had help,” I giggled.

“I actually think I sprained my hip!”

“You? I’ve been limping around here all morning,” I admitted.

“Have you really? Huh, that’s too funny. And here I thought I was the only one hurting. Guess we put a hurting on each other!” he growled. “Cal asked me why I was moving so slow.”

“You were asleep about five minutes afterwards… in the same position.” I laughed.

“You wore me out with all of that good loving. I have to stop thinking about it. I’m going to make those dinner reservations and I’ll see you around seven. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

I smiled as I tore the sheets off our bed and carried the pile to the laundry room. I heard my phone ring again, but it wasn’t his ringtone.

“Hey Marie, what’s up?”

“Taryn?” I could tell by her voice that she had been crying.

“Marie, what’s wrong?” I panicked.

“Gary’s mom died this morning.”

“Oh my God, Marie. I’m so sorry.” An old memory of me calling Marie to tell her my mom had died flashed through my mind. “What happened?”

“She must have had a stroke in bed last night. Gary’s dad couldn’t wake her. And we just saw them a few weeks ago.”

“How’s Gary?”

“He’s a mess.” She sniffed. “First time I’ve ever seen him cry. He’s already called off work and well, it’s the other reason I’m calling. Please don’t be mad…” she pleaded, “but he got us tickets to fly to Tampa tomorrow. He wants to be there – help make arrangements with his dad. We’re flying out at eight twenty in the morning.”

“No, I completely understand. Don’t worry at all.”

“Tar, we’re going to be gone for a couple of days. I don’t think we’ll be back until Monday or Tuesday. I hate to do this to you.”

“Marie, don’t worry about it. Family is first, always first. Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?”

“No. Just your understanding and love, that’s all we need. I really hate this. I know you wanted to spend the weekend with his family; I feel like I’m sticking you. I feel horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“Marie! Please! It’s okay! I’ll figure something out. Just give Gary and his family our condolences.”

I turned the washing machine on and added the soap. Shit. What was I going to do now? I had just unloaded the dryer when my phone rang again. All of a sudden I was popular.

“Hi Pete,” I answered glumly.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. No. I just got off the phone with Marie. Gary’s mom passed away this morning.”

After a few minutes of filling him in on what little information I had he got to the reason for his call. He had calculated the cost of the materials to do the stairwell remodel. The steel door alone was several hundred combined with drywall and wood studs came to almost two thousand dollars.

That didn’t include his labor.

Pete figured once he got the work permit Thursday morning he could start later that day, but it would be loud with all the banging and he’d have to cut through the brick wall to make the new outside door.