Shower. A shower will make me feel better.
And a few headache tablets. And amassiveglass of water.
In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess. My eyes are red, and my makeup is smudged over my eyes.
Wow. I look pretty bad.
Stripping off my clothes, I toss them into the laundry basket and stand naked, leaning into the shower to turn it on. The water rains from the massive spout above my head and warms up almost instantly. I step under, and a sigh of relief and content slips from my lips as the water rushes over me.
I wash my hair twice and leave the conditioner in while I scrub my body.
Then, at the end of my shower, I stand under the water for a few minutes just letting it soothe my body and my thoughts. When I climb out, I feel so much better. I giggle with relief.
At least physically, the shower washed away most of last night’s mistakes. But mentally, I’m still worried about what happened between Simon and me.
I think I need to talk to him.
It’ll be better to just get it out in the open than to pretend nothing happened and have things get awkward.
It’s Saturday morning, and usually he’s home when I come down for breakfast, but the mansion is quiet, and he’s nowhere to be found.
I make a strong coffee and find a blueberry muffin for breakfast. Out on the deck, I watch the waves lapping gently at the shore while I eat it and wait for Simon to get home.
It’s not going to be the easiest conversation to have, but I have to suck it up and be an adult about this.
The day drags on, and Simon doesn’t come home.
Just after lunch, I message him, getting worried.
Hi, it’s me. Where are you?
Just running some errands. I’ll be home a little later.
In the afternoon, bored from waiting and tired from last night, I fall asleep on the sofa downstairs. When I wake up, it’s getting dark, and Simon is still not home. Frustrated, I go to bed to get an early night. I guess I can talk to him in the morning.
On Sunday, though, I wake up and find a note next to the kettle.
I’m helping my brother out with some things today. I won’t be home till late. Order some pizza and enjoy your day. Simon.
I push the note aside and shake my head. That’s annoying. I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow after work to speak to him.
But on Monday, when I get home from work, he has already left to attend to something at a warehouse, according to his message.
Tuesday is the same.
By Wednesday, I realize that this isn’t an accident. The man is actively avoiding me. There is no way he has been so busy that I have literally not seen him since Friday night, even though we live in the same house.
Sitting at my desk on Wednesday afternoon, I decide I’ve had enough. It’s only twelve when I pack up my things and inform my colleagues that I need to read home early.
I’m determined to catch Simon before he has a chance to disappear on me tonight!
When I get home, I’m relieved to see his car outside.
I park next to him, climb out, run up the steps, and push the front door open.
“Simon?” I call into the mansion.
But he obviously heard me arriving, and he ends up frightening me as he comes around the corner with his keys in his hand, heading straight for the door.
