Doors. What happens when you open a door, and all hell breaks loose?

*******

I drifted up the stairs to the Q-Bureau, my mind in a fog. It’s amazing how much my life changed in the four years since I opened the door to the Agency for the first time.  The words “Film Library” painted on the glass of one of those doors brought me out of my musings. On the other side was my future. The man I love. My husband. Anxiously, I turned the knob and stepped inside only to find the room empty.

Funny, Lee should have been here already--his car was parked in the garage. I settled in at my desk and started on the day’s reports. I looked up when the sound of voices floated out from the vault. One of those voices was clearly my husband’s and the rich timber of his voice was laced with hints of desperation. I peeked in to see what had him so upset, only to find, to my surprise, a voluptuous redhead wrapped around him.

That woman had arms like an octopus.  Lee was not amused and I could see he was trying without much success to extricate himself from her clutches. Jealousy and smug satisfaction warred within me, along with humor. That woman was pawing my husband. I cleared my throat to get their attention. What I really wanted to do, was push the interloper away from Lee and yell mine, mine, all mine. Juvenile, I know, but I couldn’t help it.

The redhead blew out of the vault like a storm cloud. She rolled her eyes as she passed me and slammed the door.  Either my interruption, or Lee’s lack of interest infuriated her--I wasn’t sure which. I was just glad she left.

“Amanda,” Lee blustered. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.”

“It’s exactly what I think.” I stood behind my desk, arms crossed in front of me in mock anger. “That … that … woman was all over you.” I paused for a moment just to make him squirm, then winked and smiled at my confused husband. “I could see you … wanted no part of it.” He rewarded me with a grin and that ‘I’ll get you for this’ look of his. “Now, was that anyway for you to give a proper good morning to your wife?”

“No, ma’am.” Lee pulled me tight against his chest and began to lean down for a good morning kiss, when the door to the Q-Bureau swung open. We jumped apart and dove for our respective desks. Why did it have to be Fred Fielder? The harbinger of doom informed us that the time for the staff meeting was changed from nine to ten o’clock and that Billy wanted Lee to meet him in Dr. Smyth’s office in five minutes. Lee shrugged into his suit jacket and I straightened his tie and he was off--without giving me that proper good morning kiss.

I wandered into the Bullpen, and instantly regretted it. Why did I even come through the doors?  It was one hellish day at the Agency. Francine seemed to be falling back into old habits. Her acerbic wit was really flying. Even though it hadn’t been directed at me- it was still annoying.  If that wasn’t bad enough, Lee had been given an assignment that would keep him in New York for the next week, and of course my trainee status prevented me from accompanying him. At least it wasn’t a contact zero operation.

The timing of this assignment couldn’t have been worse.  We had a romantic weekend planned—starting with tickets for a sold out performance at the Kennedy Center on Friday night. I’m sure Billy and Jeanine will enjoy the show.  At least, the tickets didn’t go to waste. That was a small consolation.

To add to my frustration, the traffic was stop and go all the way from the Key Bridge to home. All of the worst drivers in the state were on that road this afternoon. What started out as a small tension headache turned into a full-blown migraine by the time I hit the supermarket.

My last minute shopping trip was a disaster. I should have just turned around and went home but I needed a box of laundry detergent. We were out and I forgot to replace it the last time I went shopping.  It took me ten minutes just to get into the store since the automatic doors were broken and wouldn’t let me in. I had to be fast and managed sneak in while someone was exiting.

I snagged a cart that I had to fight with down each aisle. It wanted to go one way while I needed it to go another. The actual shopping went rather smoothly until I went to the checkout line.

The woman in front of me had a shopping cart filled to capacity, but didn’t have enough cash to cover the whole bill. Twenty minutes later, she still was discussing her options with the cashier. I debated leaving my groceries, but just couldn’t face two hungry teenagers with no food and I really did need that laundry detergent. Luckily, another checkout lane opened up and I was first on that line. Or maybe it wasn’t so lucky; the new box boy packed my loaf of bread underneath a gallon of milk.

Home at last. I wish I had never opened my front door, usually a portal to a haven in a world gone mad.  All I really wanted was a little peace and quiet, a hot cup of tea, and a nice long soak in a bubble bath. That’s not what I got.

Instead, my house was in utter chaos. Mother wasn’t home from her errands yet and the boys had taken matters into their own hands. I’m sure they thought they were helping out by getting dinner ready and doing the laundry. Their hearts were in the right place even if things didn’t go as planned.

The screeching of the smoke alarm assaulted my ears as soon as I stepped through the door and the acrid smoke billowing out of my kitchen stung my eyes. Jamie was franticly waving a dishtowel at the alarm trying to get it to stop. It took only a moment for me to realize that the house wasn't on fire. It was just dinner burning.

Where was Phillip?  The choice words tumbling past the laundry room door couldn't be coming from Phillip.  I had to stifle my own exclamation when I pushed to door open and came face to face with my sudsy son.  An empty box of laundry detergent was clutched in one hand, and a bottle of dish soap in the other.  Dish soap?  Oh no . . .

I just wanted to cry when I looked in. What a mess! Instead of laundry soap, Phillip used dishwashing liquid.  Now my washing machine looked like Mt Vesuvius, spewing soap bubbles out the top, down the front, and across the floor. Phillip was covered in them, looking like the marshmallow man on that sign on the candy factory.

I just lost it. Surely that shrieking woman wasn’t me.  Her voice was full of disgust mixed in with frustration and anger. I was shocked at the words coming out of my own mouth.  My boys just stood in stunned silence--mouths hanging open as I accused them of being inconsiderate and sent them up to their room.

Now, piled on top of all the day's frustration, was guilt. I felt terrible that I yelled at the boys. They really were only trying to help.

After I shut off the water, I assessed the situation. The kitchen wasn't that bad. I tossed the smoldering roast beef --pan and all--into the trash. I opened up the window over the sink, and left the exhaust fan on--to clear out the smoke and to quiet the darn smoke alarm.

That left the laundry room. How in the world was I ever going to get rid of all those suds? I started to scoop them up in the dustpan and empty them in the kitchen sink. It was going to take me all night to clean this up.

“Mom?” Jamie smiled tentatively, “I looked up soap suds in Grandma's book on helpful house-hold hints … and there was this article …”

“Not now, Jamie. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“But Mom … they say if you sprinkle the soap suds with salt they will melt. I just thought you’d want to know.” Jamie turned and plodded back upstairs to his bedroom.

Rummaging around in the pantry, I located a box of salt and sprinkled it all over the bubbles. It worked!  The bubbles were dissolving, leaving only the water. Thank god, there was a drain in the floor. I watched in fascination as the water and a few determined suds circled the drain. That wasn't so bad. A quick mop to make sure the floor wasn't slippery and things would be good as new.

Now I needed to apologize to the boys. I stood outside their door and peered in. They looked so forlorn sitting on their beds.

“We’re sorry mom. We were just trying to help. We didn't mean to make a mess.” Phillip spoke for the both of them.

That did it. I cried as I apologized to my babies--young men now. “I’m sorry too fellas. I had a horrible day today and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you were only trying to help and I appreciate it.”  I pulled them both in for a hug.

“It’s okay, mom we understand.” Jamie shyly replied.

“You and Grandma do so much for us we just wanted to do something special for you.” Phillip added.

“It’s not okay Jamie. I shouldn’t have yelled at you guys. Phillip, you and your brother do special things for me every day. I love you both very much. Having a bad day is no excuse. Can you forgive me?”

“Yeah, Mom. We love you too,” both boys replied in unison.

We held each other for a moment and then went downstairs to order pizza. To make it up to them, I promised to take them for a round of Goofy Golf, and then to Marvelous Marvin’s this weekend.

The day from hell was finally over. I trudged upstairs, and closed my bedroom door on another day.

 The end.