E1

Bill Hunt

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Home from covering my hockey game last Friday night to find the door locked and the wife gone.

Uh-oh, I said to myself. It finally happened. We're the other couple.

Let me explain.

Over the past few months, several couples we know have chosen to go their separate ways. None of our business, and certainly not something to make light of, but as we've noted, it seems every other couple we know has recently separated.

And if I happen to be getting on her nerves, or perhaps not as witty as I think I am sometimes or in the middle of one of a thousand things I do to irritate her, Debbie will say, "See that couple? We could be the other couple."

She was kidding. I think.

Debbie and I have been married - happily, for the most part - for more than 24 years. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, as I remind her from time to time. She kind of sighs and rolls her eyes, and replies "Yeah, right!" But she's still here, which I take to be a good sign.

Friday night though? She wasn't there.

I have to confess that, under the circumstances, her absence wasn't my first concern. Oh sure, I noticed. But first things first: I had to get in the door - I often don't carry a key - calm the harried dog, and write a story on the hockey game I had just covered.

But after that?

Well, I got worried.

No Debbie. No Kenny. No note. Where could they be?

Kenny, of course, is 20. It's Friday night. He could be anywhere. Debbie's Friday night options were few. She and about a dozen other ladies go out once a month on a group outing - they each throw in 10 bucks, somebody different wins the money, with the stipulation being they have to spend it only on themselves - no paying of bills or buying for the kids or any other such thing allowed. The winner gets to pick the activity for the next month. But it's hardly ever on a Friday night and they're almost always home by 11 o'clock.

She hadn't gone to bed early, wasn't down in the basement doing the wash. Maybe something had happened and she had to go to the hospital? But the jeep was right out front. Maybe she was across the driveway, wishing the newlyweds who were leaving for their Mexican honeymoon early the next morning a safe trip? However, I thought it best not to go knocking on the door of a newly married couple at 11:30 at night wondering if they had perhaps seen my wife.

So I waited.

She rolled in just before midnight. She was coming from a rock concert.

And then I remembered.

Our friend Cathie's son Ryan was home from Vancouver with his band, Minto. They had a gig at the nearby Kinsmen Centre. Debbie and a few friends had dropped over, as promised, to see the band and hear them play.

So it was all pretty innocent. She was rockin' out on a Friday night.

As I mentioned my fear that perhaps she was finally fed up with my (a) strange hours, (b) strange personality, (c) strange habits or (d) all of the above, she dismissed the discussion abruptly.

"Do you think if I was leaving, I'd leave my dog behind and my car in the driveway?" she snorted.

Oh well ... next time, I'll know. At least she didn't run away with the band.

Bill Hunt is a staff writer at The Daily Gleaner. He can be reached at hunt.bill@dailygleaner.com.