He hugs me from behind and leans his lips down to my ear.
"Hello beautiful," I feel a smile creep onto my face as I stand in the kitchen wrapped in his strong, warm embrace and flipping eggs for breakfast.
"Good Morning," I whisper back, twisting in his bear hug so that I can face him. "How did you sleep last night?" I ask.
"Pretty good," he replies with a smile and a peck on the lips. He lets me go and I can't help but let my heart lurch as he leaves my side. I turn back to my eggs though, with a deep breath and my teeth digging into my lip. "So, what's on the cards for today?"
"Well, Susan's got soccer after school," I reply, popping some toast down into the toaster. "And John has a P.T.A." I sigh as I see my day played in front of me. A lot of work.
"I can take the P.T.A. if you want," he says, sitting at the table and reading the paper. I slip the eggs onto a plate and grab some bacon out of the microwave. As I slide the plate in front of him, I sit down at the table too.
"Really? That'd be great, and your toast is coming." I smile at him as he shoves eggs into his mouth, "Wait, don't you have to work at the plant today?"
"No." he replies. A short, cutting one word answer. He looks up at me and sees my wide eyes. He puts down his bacon and swallows. "I'm not working today, or tomorrow,"
"Did they give you some vacation time," I ask, hoping, praying and begging that I'm right.
"No, they fired me," he stares into my eyes, the chestnut brown not seeming warm and inviting anymore, but soft and vulnerable. His eyes start to water and I can't help but hug him. His body starts to shake from crying and I try with all my strength to not cry so that I can support him. It's funny, he'd always been the supporter, but now, our family had nothing. I could see it slipping away, first the TV, then Johnny's PS3, and then the after school activities stop. A picture of my children, our beautiful children, sitting on the street shatters my strength and I slowly break into sobs with my husband, my rock. John comes up and hugs me from behind, knowing not to say a word except,
"I love you Mommy and Daddy."