Together Apart: Change is Never Easy by Lexi Maxxwell Page B

the sun shone, as it were. He hadn’t felt this way in a while. It was a good sign. Maybe great.
    Life often burned slow. Zach knew that. He also knew that by contrast, he wanted things to happen quickly. He was patient in his own way (more patient than Sam; she could have and maybe should have been a great writer, but chose journalism because success took forever), but it was hard for him not to think in terms of this day, this week, this month. Yet even now, as his head lifted and he pulled back to see the bigger picture, he realized that what they’d both been recently feeling was nothing more than a bump in the road. It felt terrible while it was happening, but what would it be a year from now? Ten years from now? If he were to look back on this past year on the day of his son or daughter’s high school graduation, what would he think? He’d be 44 or so, married to Sam for nearly a quarter of a century.
      From that vantage, how ridiculously insignificant would this year of uncertainty seem? How stupid would he feel for doubting, after an additional 18 years of better days?  
    He felt the weight of the chocolates in his hand. Over the past week — ever since Sam had told him the news — things had started to heal. Only, it wasn’t precisely healing , since there hadn’t been damage. Things had begun to realign . Sam looked at him the way she used to, with big, sparkling eyes and a white smile, set off by her perpetually tan skin. That look had always made Zach feel so good. It said that while she didn’t entirely understand her husband and his alien artist’s temperament, she was both mystified by and proud of him. And he, in turn, felt himself looking back at Sam in the way he used to, the way he’d forgotten. She was the yin to his yang. Or was it the other way around? Yang was fire, focus, masculine. Yin was soft, yielding, feminine. Zach had the fire, yet he was the one who yielded. He was the man, but Sam was focused. And even that felt playful, because she had started to mock him again in the sunny past week. He was the girl in their relationship, she had always said so. Only, she hadn’t said it much recently, because the tension was too tight for joking. It was ironic that when they were closer, they jabbed each other more.  
    A smile lit his face. Zach nodded at people as he passed, like a man in a cheery movie montage. The people didn’t respond, and seemed wary. It was fine — he had his whole life ahead of him. They both did.  
    Zach climbed the steps, traversed the hallway, and put his hand on the doorknob. He was about to pull his key from his pocket, but then he had an idea.  
    He raised his fist and knocked on the door.  
    Nobody answered.  
    But Zach knew she was in there; Sam had run out on some errands hours before but her car was downstairs so she had to be back.  
    He knocked again, bouquet raised. Then, realizing an opportunity, he dug the box of chocolates from his bag, held the box in his hand, and shoved the empty bag into his pocket. He adjusted his stance as, finally, he heard footsteps approaching and turned himself into the perfect image of a suitor come calling. Just as he was six years before.
    He watched the peephole, saw it darken. Then Sam’s voice said, “Why are you knocking?”  
    “I’ve come to court you, my lady,” Zach said, grinning.  
    “OK.”  
    “Aren’t you going to let me in?” The grin grew larger.  
    “What, did you forget to take your key?”  
    “I … Sam, no. Just open the door.”  
    He heard a sigh. The doorknob rattled, and the door cracked an inch. He pushed in, using his elbows because his hands were full, and was greeted by the sight of Sam’s back. She was carrying a laundry basket. Without looking back, she went to the laundry closet and began feeding clothes into the front-loading stack.  
    “I brought you something,” he said, approaching her.  
    “OK, hang on.” More clothes went into the washer.  
    “Check it