He simply stared at me. He had just
come home from a long trip abroad and was standing in the doorway of
the kitchen where I was pretending to eat cornflakes. They had gone
soggy while I waited for him to come home. He hadn't even put his
bags down before I sprung this information on him and he just stood
there carrying them and staring at me. A steel ball slowly formed
itself in the pit of my stomach and I felt like I was seconds away
from throwing up bile into the sink behind me. My dread increased
while I waited for a response or any small indication that he
understood what I said to him. Usually so passionate about certain
things, I expected a range of emotions to color his strong face and
contort his features into something heartbreaking. But that didn't
happen. He just stood there, staring at me. The clock on the wall to
the left of his head made the only sounds. It's ticks seemed to keep
time with the downbeat of my heart. I realized I hadn't been
breathing when a dull ache started to form in my chest. I convinced
myself to slowly exhale and then inhale. The cadence of my breathing
joined the symphony of otherwise imperceptible sounds, the clock
acting as metronome. And still he only stared.
Fear, guilt, and embarrassment
suffused my body with a heat radiating out from my scalp. I didn't
deserve him and he damn sure didn't deserve what I kept putting him
through. I moved toward him and stopped. He didn't budge. “David?”
I asked. He twitched at the sound of my voice as it painfully invaded
the silence, but he didn't respond. “David.” I persisted and took
another step toward him. “I'm sorry, I'm scared, and I'm
embarrassed. Can you please say something?”
“My um,” he started. He cleared
his throat and tried again. “These bags are heavy.” he said very
quietly. “I'm going to put them down.” He stood there for another
beat before making his way to the bedroom we shared. I wondered if we
still would after that day. When he left, I started to dump the
congealed contents of the bowl and then I sat down at the table with
my head in my hands. It wasn't long before I heard his voice behind
me. “Where was he?”
“What?”
“Was he here? Was he in the living
room? Did he eat here on this table? Did he watch tv in that chair?”
he asked with growing intensity. His anger started to boil out, but
by the time it reached his face it cooled into sadness and, what
almost killed me to see again, betrayal. He paced the floor grinding
his palms into his eyes. I put my head back in my hands praying that
we would get through this again this time. But while I sat there, I
couldn't even promise myself that it would be the last time. That was
when the dam broke. Tears leaked from my eyes and snaked their way
down my wrists before falling to the table and pooling at my elbows.
“Why the fuck are you crying?
I should be the one crying!” He shouted. When I looked at
him, he had taken of his jacket, his tie was loosened and his sleeves
were rolled up. A large vein protruded from his neck which had turned
and ugly red and the color was crawling up his face. “I'm out
trying to make a life for us and you're making a fool of me.” It
almost sounded like he was pleading. “I have to walk around with
this embarrassment and these pitying looks from my family while you
go out cheating on me with Sean Lewis.” He emphasized his speech by
ripping the microwave out of the wall and throwing it onto the floor.
I had never been so terrified. “Where did you it? Answer me right
now. Was it here?” I nodded. “Where?”I didn't respond. I looked
away. “Where the fuck was he, Jason? The front room?” I shook my
head. “The basement?”
“No,” I whispered.
“The bathroom?” I was silent.
There was only place left that he hadn't mentioned. “I swear to
God,” he muttered as the answer dawned on him. I could almost hear
his heart breaking. “You guys were in that bedroom weren't you? You
had sex in that bedroom with someone else even though that's the
space that we made ours. Even though the memory of us there was still
fresh in the sheets. But why should I have expected more from you?
You spread your legs for him anytime he blows in your direction.”
He made his way out of the kitchen and I tried to pull him back, but
he just shook me off. He kept going straight out the front door. It
was different this time, though. Almost like he wasn't coming back.
--
It still needs some revision, though. It has some unnatural dialogue
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