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Sat in her usual spot around the Gribble’s kitchen table, Peggy’s grip tightened around the mug nestled between her hands.
“It sounds like you just need to talk to him, sug,” Nancy said, her head cocked to the side in a moment of thought, standing to put the dishes she had finished with into the sink.
“Which—”
Cutting Nancy off, “Yes! Hank doesn’t like to talk! Nancy, I have tried everything. He is just so tense and nothing I do or say works.”
The steam that had been circling Peggy’s mug was long gone; the cup as full as it had been since she had walked into their home. Peggy was tapping her fingers against the side of it, blowing a sharp breath before looking out the window. “Maybe I should just give up, see if he’ll talk to me instead.”
“Might be all you can do…” Nancy frowned as she spoke, turning away from the sink as her eyes followed Peggy’s outside where Hank was just barely in view; walking back inside from the alley.
After a moment of solemn silence, Peggy stood.
“Thank you for having me, Nancy.”
The last thing Peggy had seen before turning to the front door was Nancy’s expression only souring further, and the last twinge of hope she had in solving this problem had finally faded; much to Peggy’s dismay.
The fresh, cold air outside didn’t do much to help her sinking feeling. In fact, the chill she felt run through her body as she walked made her feel even worse, and the familiar scene of Hank working away quietly inside the garage— a façade, Peggy knew. She was at least 95% certain— only worsened it all.
This was all too familiar.
The first thing Peggy had said as she walked into the garage— “Hank, it’s been weeks since we were supposed to start showing our holiday spirit.”
Hank looked at her, confusion all over his face.
“The Christmas lights. In a week, the whole neighbourhood will be here for the Christmas party, and we won’t have any decorations!”
A sigh, followed by the faintest sound of Hank clearing his throat; “Oh, yeah. It slipped my mind completely— I’ll uh, get to it tonight. Sound good?”
Peggy looked down at the project Hank had been working on. Or, what was supposed to be a project.
It mostly consisted of separate pieces and no coherent plan for any of it, or any indication it had even been started.
But before she could dwell on that newfound information any longer, an idea popped into her head, and a smile immediately crossed her face.
“Well, Hank. That would be good… but…” Peggy dragged out the last of her sentence as she came closer to him, placing one hand on his shoulder, and then one on his chest as he set down his drill, his hands hovering idly.
“We have reservations tonight. I call it, ‘That’s Amore’, a surprise by yours truly!” She exclaimed, placing a quick peck on Hank’s cheek.
“Well that’s… just great, Peg!” Hank said with a chuckle, and the slight smile he replied with gave Peggy all the reassurance she needed.
“How’d you get a reservation so quick? What time are we leaving?” He asked, averting his eyes down to the scattered mess of parts on his workbench.
“Don’t ask questions!” Peggy spoke so fast she could barely get a breath in before continuing, “I just… have my ways,”
“Whatever you say,” Hank laughed again, but this time much more hushed and with a nervous edge. Peggy either didn’t notice or chose not to acknowledge it, and she simply brushed past him and towards the door into the house.
Now. How can I score a reservation for tonight?
As it turns out, much, much harder than Peggy had expected.
After a few hours and an excessive amount of haggling with Nancy & Dale (Though she was slightly disappointed, Nancy wanted to help in any way she could), Peggy had rushed through the front door with a shout,
“I’m home!”
She was smoothing out her bangs with her fingers when Hank stepped out from the hallway wearing a dress shirt and pants, adjusting a bowtie tightly around his neck— jacket thrown over his arm.
“We got lucky this time,” Hank murmured as Peggy came up to peck him on the cheek, “The babysitter didn’t cancel, and they’re on their way as we speak.”
“We are very, very lucky people, Hank.” Peggy said with a contented sigh, unaware that Hank was still awkwardly standing in front of her. He scratched the back of his head.
Still standing…
“Uh, Peggy… you sure you’re ready to leave?” He asked hesitantly, and Peggy went quiet for a moment before realizing she was still wearing her usual closet.
“Oh— Oh, this? This was just… it was a surprise! I mean, my outfit’s a surprise! Go wait in the car, I’ll be just a second!” She managed to gasp out before rushing past him, nearly flying through the door to find something to put on.
Nearly tripping over herself as she wrestled with the deep green dress she nabbed off of the hanger carelessly, she hobbled into the bathroom to fine tune her makeup (of course, fine tune is an overstatement, but it’s the thought that counts), and finally made it out the door with her purse and the chunkiest heels she could find that would hopefully compliment her outfit.
When she got into the car— out of breath and adjusting the straps on her heels— Hank paused, and leaned forward to meet Peggy’s eyes, which were now focused on Hank’s light expression, a smile tugging at his mouth.
Without a word, he wiped a bit of smudged lipstick off of her cheek.
“You ready?” He asked with a chuckle, and Peggy pressed a palm where Hank had swiped his thumb, her cheeks dusted a light pink.
“We only have 20 minutes before our reservation, hit it!” She exclaimed in an attempt to get Hank’s eyes off of her, which would’ve highlighted her embarrassment, and decided to use the rear-view mirror to finish adjusting her appearance.
After a drive of pleasant and short-lived chatting, the pair had finally walked into the restaurant.
“Isn’t this just a place out of your dreams, Hank?” Peggy sighed happily, resting the side of her face on Hank’s upper shoulder. Though she felt him stiffen up slightly, he didn’t pull away.
“Mmm. It’s nice,” Hank said after a low, considerate hum, taking Peggy’s arm in his as the waitress led them to their table.
Hank kept quiet as he sat down and took a quick glance at the menu, listening to Peggy’s rambles about how difficult it was to get the seats; something about—
“Welcome to ‘That’s Amore’! I’ll be your waitress for tonight. What can I get you two?”
As Hank looked up from the words on the menu, his eyes froze on the woman’s complexion, his heart beginning to thunder in his chest.
Any words coming from Peggy or the waitress’ mouth were muffled in his ears, quickly averting eye contact back down towards the table.
I’m attracted to that woman.
Wait. No! I’m not! I’m not! What—?
Hank sat up in his chair, a sudden nausea hitting him like a pile of bricks.
“Hank? Hank!” Peggy had been calling to him with a hushed voice, before a nervous chuckle followed. “Sorry, he’s just tired. Long day, working, you know…!”
The waitress, with a confused expression, nodded slowly along with Peggy’s words as she insisted everything was fine. Hank paid no attention, setting the menu down to press a palm into the side of his head, sturdying himself with his elbow.
As he rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up, Peggy watched as the waitress walked away.
“Hank! What has gotten into you?” Though Peggy’s voice didn’t appear hostile or frustrated, the sinking feeling he couldn’t quite place only seemed to get worse the more she talked.
I barely looked at her. I only saw her face once. That doesn’t prove that I found her attractive at all.
I’ve seen lots of women in my life. I am faithful to Peggy! I… I love… her, more than anything!
Hank mumbled something similar to an apology and that he needed to leave before standing up, steadying himself against the table before rushing past a stunned Peggy and out into the parking lot.
As he stood outside, he glanced around to make sure nobody was in sight before he let go of the breath he was holding, each inhale only becoming more fast-paced.
What if I’ve hated Peggy this whole time and I’ve just been looking for a replacement? Why else would my heart have beat that fast? I’m in love with that woman! I’m not! I’m not!
Hank leaned forward and shook his head harshly, pressing his hands so far into his knees he swore he could’ve left bruises as he tried to catch his breath.
“Hank!”
He straightened up the moment he heard Peggy approaching, clearing his throat (much shakier than he wished it came out), he turned towards the door to the restaurant.
“What’s going on? What happened? Did you smell charcoal? Because I’m almost certain they use propane, but I can always ask them if—”
Though it took a moment for Hank to reply, the breath he took felt like it burned and he swore his hands were still trembling— maybe it’s not safe for me to drive…— “No, no… everything’s fine, Peggy. I just… left the gate unlocked.”
“Hank, we don’t have a gate.”
“…Still important to check.” Hank shut down the conversation immediately, brushing past Peggy— she frowned, watching as Hank didn’t look behind him and booked it straight for the truck.
In the coming days, Hank couldn’t find a moment of peace.
The distress of that interaction began to creep into his every waking moment, consuming his thoughts faster than he could create any new ones.
He tried to occupy himself with every activity he could think of— repairs, television, conversations out in the alley, but nothing seemed to work.
Being around people was draining. He needed focus.
“Hank?” Peggy would call, sticking her head into the garage where Hank was hunched over his workbench, tapping a pencil against an empty page.
“Not now… I’m busy.” Was all he’d mutter, and no matter what time it was, what day it was— he’d always provide her with the same answer. The same energy, the same detached tone that Peggy would grow to hate.
But no matter how much focus he tried to give himself, no amount of walking in circles in his mind seemed to give him an answer of clarity; of peace of mind, of… anything. Just a broken record in his mind, leaving every task unfinished and every conversation brief and harsh.
Cheater, Unfaithful. Undeserving.
Longing for Peggy quickly turned into guilt that ached in his chest each time he dismissed her. There has to be a reason this is happening. I took a vow when I married Peggy; I wouldn’t do this! I wouldn’t!
The box of Christmas lights he had discarded in the garage were left untouched since the day he set them there; and it had quickly gotten to a point where he covered it with a tarp— and when the day of the party came around, the house had still been left undecorated.
Hank, with circles forming under his eyes; and the stubble he had neglected to shave growing in, could not ignore the day any more.
Peeling out of his sweat-coated shirt and splashing his face with water, Hank stared at himself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, his index and thumb pressed against the rim of his glasses.
The sound of his friends, family & other guests that had been invited just outside the door made the uneasiness in his stomach only grow worse.
It had only taken a minute or so to put on something more presentable; the real hurdle he needed to overcome was ridding himself of the clear exhaustion all over his face.
So much so, that the ache in his bones from sitting hunched over in the garage for extended periods of time began to show in his actions, slicing a cut just below his cheekbone as he tried to shave off the unruly stubble he hadn’t dealt with in days. With a curse and the clatter of the razor hitting the sink, he pressed his shaky palm into the wound, seething with frustration.
Looking up and back into the mirror, the wrinkle in his brow was more prominent than ever. “Dangit…”
And that was when Peggy knocked on the door.
“Hank?” Was all she said before Hank opened the door, attempting to angle his head away from Peggy to make sure the beet red cut on his face wasn’t as visible to her.
“Are you going to actually show up for this party, or are you going to keep hiding like you have been from me?”
The bitterness in Peggy’s voice was as clear as day, and Hank couldn’t ignore it anymore. With a quiet sigh, he brushed past her, keeping his focus away from their bed and made his way into the small crowd, gathered around in quaint conversation.
The Christmas music had proven futile to drown out any of Hank’s thoughts; and the conversations he tried to hold felt empty and forced.
“Hey, Hank! You ready to exchange gifts?” Dale called out to him with an emphasis on the end of his sentence after he had found a spot further away from everybody.
“You bet…!” He laughed awkwardly, and everybody began to gather around.
As the time passed and Hank began to sort out and pass around presents, Hank quickly realized he had nothing to give to Peggy… or anyone.
As the amount of presents began to decrease, the more he felt everyone’s eyes on him and the hushed whispering grew louder.
“Well, that’s… everything,” Hank said as he sat up, folding his hands together on his lap as everyone looked around.
“What about your presents, Hank?” Bill asked, sitting on the ground by the tree.
Silence.
“Well, uh, you see…”
“Hank, may I speak to you? Alone?” Peggy spoke up, standing with her fists at her sides. Hank didn’t need to look at her to know she was incredibly— and rightfully— very upset.
Hank, with a stumble in his step, walked into their bedroom and sat himself onto the side of their bed with a great hesitation. His hands clasped the blankets on each side with a subtle force, averting his eyes away from the room and toward the ceiling as he heard Peggy storm into the room from where his eyes were glued to the floor.
“Peggy, there’s people outside—”
“Do you want to explain to me what the hell that was for?” Peggy scowled from where she stood, pushing the door shut with one hand.
“Peggy, just listen, okay?” For the first time since he sat, his eyes gazed up to Peggy’s, where she met his expression with a glare that could shoot daggers.
“I—” Pausing to huff, he turned his eyes away and towards the window. “Maybe you don’t understand, but there’s really no other way to put it than… I’m just trying to keep this family safe.”
“Safe? Safe?” Her voice raising as she repeated, Peggy scoffed.
Peggy took a frustrated breath in— following a sarcastic laugh— before continuing, “I can understand when you wake me up in the middle of the night to make sure there aren’t any leaky valves. I can understand the— sometimes, quite frankly unreasonable— lengths of time it takes you to lock up at Strickland—”
As Peggy continued on, Hank felt his shoulders tense with each sentence she spoke. Counting the fibres in the carpet was doing him no good; the tightness in his chest only grew stronger.
“—making us late for a date, but my goodness, Hank! This isn’t ‘keeping our family safe’ because you’re just being a… an ass! It’s like I barely exist to you!”
“Dang it, no! You don’t understand. I have to do those things, just like I have to do this. I’m doing this all to keep you— to keep us safe,” Hank’s voice raised in exasperation, his eyes switching briefly between Peggy’s strained complexion and the dust mites settling from the door’s abrupt close onto the corners of the carpet.
“Right. Treating me like trash is keeping us safe. You don’t think I understand. That makes a lot of sense. You seem so happy to be with me only a week ago, and now you’re just… avoiding me! You want me to play dumb so you can go run off with your mistresses, huh? That sounds about right! Well, I’m not dumb, Hank!” Peggy’s constrained frustration burst out into a fit of anger; and Hank only shrunk further from where he sat.
“You haven’t decorated, you barely prepared for this party, and it just seems like you’re too busy to help with anything. You didn’t even get me anything,” Peggy took a deep breath in, the tears in her eyes wispy.
“Mistresses…?” Hank stammered, his unsteady focus returning to Peggy, unwavering and unnatural; the gloss in his eyes he blinked away as quickly as the shakiness present in his voice.
“Did you not hear a word I said? Why on this planet— Hell— this universe would I ever have a … A …mistress?” He hushed the end of his sentence, eyebrows knitted in a fit of emotions Peggy couldn’t even decipher.
Maybe that waitress winked at me. Did she? I didn’t look at her well enough… did she think I was… did she think I wanted…?
Peggy’s voice was trembling. “Well, what am I supposed to think? You avoid me like I have some sort of virus, you leave our first date in months early and you— you can barely look at me or explain yourself… Do you feel that guilty? After everything we’ve…”
But before Peggy could continue, Hank stood up in a fit of protest.. “What this seems like to me is that you just want a reason to be mad! You know darn well more than anybody that what I do is to protect you, and Bobby, and… and…” Hank trailed off—
“Euh…” His eyes were frantically darting about as he went quiet.
The hum in Peggy’s voice began to tremble, the tension in her shoulders dropping and Hank watched helplessly as Peggy’s eyes filled with tears. It only took a few seconds before they ran down her face, and as quickly as the emotion came, the pace in which she left the room was faster.
“Peggy— Peggy…!” Before Hank could say anything more, Peggy swung the door back open and threw it shut, the rattle of the doorknob spreading goosebumps up Hank’s neck.
Peggy was out of sight.
“No…”
Gritting his teeth, Hank scratched at his temples in a haze of frustration. He carelessly crashed back down onto the bed, his palms pressed so tight into his scalp he could feel the pins and needles stabbing right into his skin.
The silence following laid thick in the room, and it only grew more suffocating as Hank sat in it. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could breathe or not.
Breathing…
In and out.
The chatter and clatter of silverware seemed to grow more and more distant, and the slip of light peering through the crack in the door felt like it was shrinking every second Hank sat, frozen.
In and out…
I’ve messed up. Oh. Damn it, I’ve messed up.
His glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose through the layer of sweat glistening his face. Pushing them up with trembling fingers, Hank stood.
Walking towards the door with each step bearing more difficulty than he had expected, he pressed a palm to the wood surface.
In and out.
“Hank! Everything okay with the wife?” A man Hank didn’t recognize walked up to him, the stranger’s greeting lacking a hello and knocking the wind out of him with a slap on the back.
With a strained wheeze, Hank felt himself squaring up. “I— I don’t … Yes, of course! We are perfectly—” In and out. In and out. In and out.
Frantically, Hank pushed past the stranger without another word.
The curses of confusion from his sudden exit were drowned out from the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his chest a million miles a minute. That can’t be normal. That’s not normal, none of this is normal. Oh. What the hell have I done? Is this punishment?
“Everyone, party’s over. You can…” Hank paused to take a sharp breath, “...Take your things and leave.”
As he held the front door open and rushed a few people out the door, Bill walked up to him with a worried look in his eye.
“D’oh… I didn’t get to finish my beer… I usually can drink more than just one can at your parties, Hank!”
Spoken through gritted teeth; “Drink all you want at your house. Now please, get. Out.”
“Well… that wasn’t very nice,” Bill murmured as he was nearly pushed out of the front door by Hank, looking back only a few times to see the redness in his expression grow more saturated.
When Bobby came up to Hank as Dale & Nancy were leaving, he was just as confused as the others. It took a moment, but Hank managed to convince the Gribbles to watch Bobby for him while he ‘cleaned up around the house’.
As the last of the guests left, the door swung shut with them.
“Peggy?” Hank called out, walking— no— rushing to the kitchen… but Peggy wasn’t there.
In fact, Hank hadn’t seen her since she stormed out of their bedroom.
“Peg?”
The more he searched their home, the nausea only seemed to grow worse.
It was like looking through a tunnel. The only thing through the trembling, static shock running through his palms, the twisting of his stomach and the sweat barrelling down his forehead was the entranceway to the garage.
The sliver of hope he had left at seeing Peggy sitting on one of the stools in the garage had quickly dissipated as there was no sign of Peggy.
She was gone.
Hank pressed his hand onto the empty workbench next to the door to steady himself, he set his glasses down onto the surface and rubbed at his eyes.
Every breath felt like fire rising into his throat, and the tears quickly came running. It had only lasted a moment, and he stood and adjusted himself quickly… but he couldn’t stop.
The colour in his face was replaced with a ghostly pale, and that was when he realized something was seriously wrong. His chest ached, his legs felt like jelly and he couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought except… something was wrong.
Hank took his keys with trembling fingers and furiously wiped at his eyes before stepping outside, his best attempt at acting natural as the guests from the party were quickly dissipating.
It took a few attempts before he managed to get the key into the ignition, and when the roar of the engine began, he sat back and pressed his fists into his hair, and then back onto the steering wheel, leaning forward in a moment of overwhelm.
“Dammit…” His voice cracked ever so quietly, and in the solitude of his truck, he broke down.
The tears couldn’t be stopped, slipping down his face and onto the ground, his head pointed towards his knees to allow the shadows to hide himself. He couldn’t stop now, when everything felt so heavy and impossible, and Peggy was gone.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Hank regretted the hospital visit the moment he checked himself in. Not when he struggled to drive himself, not when he even considered dialing for an ambulance, and not when he was waiting in the lobby, keeping his face covered from passerby to avoid eye contact with his swollen, teary eyes.
He regretted it the moment he was diagnosed.
”Panic attacks? That’s obscene!” Hank snapped, digging his palms into the leather of the bed he was sitting upon.
“Mr. Hill, please calm down. You’d be surprised by the amount of patients we get in here who insist they don’t get panic attacks.”
“Well, I’m not insisting on anything. I’m stating a fact here!” Hank pointed, squinting at the clipboard in the doctor’s hands, which caught his attention.
“Mr. Hill, are you having problems with your vision?” The man asked, tilting his head.
“No. Just… something in my eye.”
Hank, through blurred eyes, watched as the doctor scribbled more things down on what he assumed was a clipboard. Hank tapped his hands rhythmically.
“I didn’t come here for you to tell me I’m having ‘panic attacks’. I came here so you can properly diagnose me with what I do have, which is not a got-dang panic attack!”
With a sigh, the doctor set down the clipboard and sifted through a box on the counter by the sink. The longer he took to search the container, the more uneasy Hank began to feel; shifting his weight from one side to the other.
Before Hank could ask further questions, the doctor set a pamphlet in his hand. “Take this. From what you’ve told me, this should be enlightening to you.”
Squinting again, he held the paper closer.
For a moment, Hank went silent. “What… ‘Understanding obsessive compulsive disorder?’… Alright, that’s it! I’m gonna kick your ass!” Hank crumpled the sheet in his hands and stood up, once again harshly pointing a finger in his direction.
“Mr. Hill—“
“I am not ‘mentally ill’. I came here expecting professionalism!” The irritation in his voice building, Hank snatched his red overshirt off of the bed and stormed past the man, into the hallway, his hands balled into fists.
As he pulled the overshirt back on, he made his way back into the main lobby of the hospital.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw Peggy sitting in one of the chairs, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap.
The weight he felt in his chest seemed to ease a little; Peggy was here.
Relief couldn’t even begin to describe what Hank was feeling in that moment.
Peggy ran up to him, her eyebrows knitted in a look of sympathy and worry. “Hank! Oh thank goodness, you’re okay— what happened? Are you hurt? Did you get into a fight? Where’s Bobby?”
There was no hint of anger or disdain in Peggy’s voice, nor in her body language; completely contrasting the fight they had only an hour before.
“I’m fine, it was just a misunderstanding. I’m okay.” Hank said quietly, softening his voice. He hesitated much longer than he realized as he hovered his free hand over Peggy’s tense shoulder.
Peggy scoffed immediately after Hank finished talking. Pressing her fists onto her hips, “You really expect me to believe that?”
Hank sighed as he looked at Peggy’s expression closely for the first time in a week. Though for a moment he had slight difficulty; he could see the worried glint in her eyes and that only made him feel worse, averting his gaze almost instantly.
Peggy pressed her palm into Hank’s cheek, rubbing a thumb gently over the scabbing cut that had been carelessly left untouched, blood smeared slightly towards his jaw.
Despite the thoughts roaming in his head, he couldn’t help but relax at her touch; sinking into her, considerate yet full of a frustrated concern.
“Peggy—“
“Something’s going on here, Hank. Just talk to me.”
“Peggy! Just… not here…” Hank hushed at the end of his sentence, glancing around at the group of people and doctors walking by.
She followed Hank outside of the hospital, and over to the side of the entrance where there was no foot traffic, her expression one of simple confusion.
The pair sat down by the sidewalk, Hank’s gaze still everywhere except near Peggy, and she hunched her legs up close to her chest.
There was a moment of incredibly tense silence, before Hank bellowed a sigh.
“I…” He started, and Peggy looked over at him.
“I,” He began again, clearing his throat and scratching at the back of his neck, “I, err,” He paused again, and looked down at his scrunched up hands; one containing the crushed pamphlet from earlier.
As he went quiet, he unraveled what he could of the booklet, the bold words reading back to him like a shout. I don’t… I couldn’t…
Another shaky sigh. “Peggy… they gave me this.”
He handed the papers to Peggy, and looked away, towards the trees lining the edge of the building.
“I had just hoped we could talk about why you were acting so distant, Hank…” Peggy murmured as she held the pamphlet in her hand, reading the title before flipping through the pages.
“Though, I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to open up. I know it’s not an easy thing for you to—“
“I’m scared, Peg.”
Peggy’s expression froze, and her eyes shot over to Hank, who was staring at the ground in front of him with a slight furrow in his brow.
“I mean,” In an attempt to backtrack, Hank immediately began to talk again.
“It just… euh… feels like these thoughts aren’t mine. None of them make any sense! I can always keep these… weird… bouts under control… but this? This ain’t right… this isn’t keeping anybody safe, but I know it’s not just something I can ignore… I could be…” Hank rambled on, some of his words he mumbled over as he tried to make sense of things, an embarrassed tone prominent in his voice.
And for a while, there was silence.
A silence Hank couldn’t take anymore.
“If you want me to say anything else, I’m not going to. I think that what they told me isn’t right. I think I have a … a virus, or something…”
“Hank.”
“I’m sure if they just listened to me, they’d give me something to take that’d fix me up in no time. But they didn’t.”
“Hank,” No acknowledgement.
“It just makes no sense! I tell them my symptoms, and they treat me! Not… give me a bunch of papers telling me I’m… I don’t have a mental illness. They should know that fear is a normal, natural human emotion, and—”
“Hank!” Peggy shouted, and Hank went quiet once again. “Did you actually read what this pamphlet says?” She asked, looking up at Hank; whose eyes were still averted away from her.
Hank glanced back, and took the booklet from Peggy.
Peggy sat, her hands holding onto the sidewalk as she watched him skim through the information, a tooth nibbling on her lip.
Intrusive thoughts… compulsions… the need to alleviate distress… anxiety and uncertainty…
The more he read, the more his heart began to beat quickly again.
Hank set the pamphlet onto the ground beside him without a word, staring straight out into the parking lot, up to the sky. The sun had long since set, and the streetlights lit up Hank’s expression, which seemed mostly blank… until he pushed his fingers up past his glasses and rubbed his eyes with a defeated sigh.
No words were exchanged for a moment. Peggy knew what was going on. She hesitated to put her hand on his shoulder, but before she could decide the right course of action, Hank stood up.
As the pair got up, that was when Hank looked behind him to see the discarded booklet on the ground.
He decided to pick them up, tucking them into his overshirt pocket.
“I think there’s still some mac and cheese leftover from the party.” Hank finally spoke up after what felt like forever.
“We can heat it up and have some for dinner, and, err… talk about… this,” Hank winced as he spoke, patting the paper tucked away in his shirt, “If you… uh, wanted,”
“That sounds lovely, Hank.”