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“Mads is in bed,” I tell her.
“I know, she texted me to tell me goodnight and asked if I wanted to meet her for coffee tomorrow.” She walks over to the couch and sits and I take the seat beside her. “I came to check on you. Again.” She smiles.
I weakly return a smile. “Nothing has changed since we last spoke, unfortunately.”
She sighs, and leans her head back and looks at the game playing on the TV. “Have you tried to start the conversation yet?” She is referring to me telling Mads my story again.
“I hated telling her that story seven years ago, I don’t want to do it again,” I say, a little coldly.
“I know you don’t want to do it, but it’s something that needs to be done,” She tells me, her expression stern.
“The last thing I need right now is more pity. The last thing she needs right now is to feel worse,” I explain.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt, but if you keep up with that mindset, nothing is going to change.”
“It will get better. She just needs time,” I say, barely believing my own words.
Ana looks at me, sadness etched in her features. “Okay.” She resigns.
“How’s David?” I ask her.
“Good! He’s at a parent teacher conference tonight.” She looks at her watch on her wrist. “He should be leaving soon actually.”
“Nice.” I sigh. “Did you pitch that new idea to your boss yet?” I ask her, referring to a new social media campaign she is hoping to launch in the new year with her marketing firm.
“Yesterday!” Ana says with a smile. “It went really well, thank you.”
We talk for another ten minutes before she leaves. I clean up a bit before going upstairs for bed. I find myself standing outside the guest room door where Mads is sleeping. I can’t hear anything from the inside, but I wish more than anything I could hold her while she sleeps.
I can’t tell if she’s making progress. She speaks on the phone to her parents every night. They visit as often as they can. They both often pull me aside during their visits to make sure I am okay with them coming over and letting Mads call them so often. I assure them that I am just happy Mads finds comfort in something these days.
I find myself calling her parents often too, looking for advice. They tell me the same thing that Ana always tells me, to talk to her. Tell her my story again, help her to get to know me again. But the last thing she needs is to carry my dark memories while she is going through this difficult time.
I try to bring up our relationship and our memories as often as I can without pushing too hard. Sometimes I make her smile and laugh with a memory, but most of the time I feel that she is humoring me by talking about us.
I don’t want to depress her with my sad and traumatic childhood memories, so I never bring them up.
I start to feel as though she is losing hope. She doesn’t seem to mind our companionable interactions with each other, but that spark and chemistry we used to share is missing. I refuse to believe it is gone. But as the days pass by, and her memories are still gone…I fear she is getting more and more detached.
Discontented.
Unhappy.
I am barely able to concentrate on my job because I have this agonizing fear in my chest that this isn’t going to get any better. But I’m not sure what to do. I was giving her space to sort herself out. I didn’t want to push too hard and make things harder for her.
We’ve never been shy or afraid of confrontation with each other. We became comfortable and confident around each other in our relationship very quickly. If there was a problem, we addressed it. If there was a fear, we voiced it. If there was a disagreement, we figured it out. Sometimes we fought, but usually we worked it out before it got too far. We knew each other inside and out. Now that that was missing, it felt like I was missing half of myself.
During the day, she has started to pull out her old college notes and assignments, trying to re-learn everything she forgot. She is studying the curriculum and course schedule for her classes and preparing to retake the teacher certification exam. It is November, but she is hoping to start the new year back in the classroom.
I am worried she is rushing things and putting too much pressure on herself. I try to tell her what I think and how I feel, but she seems to get annoyed with my opinion. I bite back my frustration, something I seem to do a lot of these days. I explain to her that she has been going non-stop, basically her whole life. From high school she went to college then to student teaching at North Hadleigh where she eventually landed a job there, and she has been working ever since. I try to convince her to take some time to rest and focus on herself, but I know her too well to think she will ever stop wanting to get back to work.
“There is nothing wrong with taking all the time you need. Even if that means taking the rest of this school year,” I tell her while she is pouring over old text books and notes.
“There is no way I can sit around doing nothing,” She says curtly. “I’m already going insane. I have so much to relearn.”
“I know Mads, I know,” I say softly. “But make sure you give yourself time to rest.”
“I know what I need, and what works best for me,” She responds through gritted teeth. “Thank you, though,” She adds as an afterthought.
