Page 33 of Words Unspoken

“I have done it again,” Ann whispered. “I have let Michael become my focus and I have stopped focusing on myself.”

“Oh Ann,” Elle reached for her hand. “It is understandable, with the surgery and his recovery. We really appreciate the time that you have put in taking care of him.”

Ann swallowed thickly. “But it hasn’t done any good. He doesn’t love me. He just loves that I take care of everything then he doesn’t have to.”

Elle didn’t know what to say.

Geanie flagged down a waiter, ordering drinks for all of them.

Ann shook her head. “I am going to pass. I am going back to the house. I need to think.”

“Ann, do you want a ride?” offered Elle.

“No, I will call a cab.” She fished out some money for her daiquiri.

“Are you sure?” asked Elle with concern. “I don’t mind driving you.”

“No,” Ann drew in a shaky breath. She felt like Elle might talk her into something. Like staying with Michael, which was what she really wanted to do. Ann just wanted to stay under different circumstances. How had she let her life become this? Dedicated to a man who only thought of her as convenient, a friend at best? She blindly left the bar and fortunately there was a cab waiting right at the curb. He took Mastercard so she got in. On the hour drive to the beach house, she tried to make sense of her obsession with Michael and struggled with the despair of knowing she had wasted twenty plus years of her life hoping for something which had never happened. Was never going to happen.

Ann let herself into the house. It smelled like something had been on fire. She made her way to the kitchen and saw the dismantled smoke detector. Worried, she began to search the house for Michael only to find him in the living room, asleep in the leather recliner. He looked okay. She breathed a small prayer of thanksgiving then went to investigate the kitchen.

It looked like a bomb had gone off. There were spices scattered everywhere. Pans were in the sink, on the stove, on the counter. Something red had coagulated on the counter and floor. There was a fork in a raw potato. What had he done? FenLei was going to have a fit.

Ann just looked at the mess and shook her head. This was what Geanie was talking about. Ann was a full-time caretaker. She was his wife without any of the benefits of being a wife. She had slipped back into her old role of putting Michael first and her wants and desires second. She was forty years old. She wanted Michael as her husband and babies and this house. Yet, he never made a move for her. He was contented letting her pick up after him, organize his life, make sure everything was good. He was comfortable. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want to be her husband. He didn’t want to be the father of her babies.

And so, if she wanted the happily ever after, she was going to have to get it elsewhere. Ann went to the living room and sat on the coffee table, watching him sleep. The ache gnawed at her. How was she ever going to get past him? Geanie was right. She had to let him go. She had to go cold turkey. Her heart rebelled at the thought, but she didn’t want to be eighty years old, full of regret, childless and trying to coax him to eat at the old age home. That was where she was headed if things continued like they were. It hurt. It hurt so badly to think about. Ann wiped away tears as another sob came.

She just could not do this anymore no matter how much she loved him. Loving him was not enough. He needed to love her in return and since he could not it was time to leave. She fumbled in her bag, pulled out her cell phone and called for a cab. It would be an expensive ride back to her apartment after the expensive ride here, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Michael stirred as she finished the call. He looked at her in confusion and sat up, reaching out to touch her tear-stained face which set off another round of crying. When he tried to hug her, she pulled back, standing up, trying to get out of his reach. She was not going to get sucked in anymore.

“I am sorry Michael,” she said shakily. “I cannot do this anymore.”

It was obvious that he didn’t understand. He put out his hands helplessly.

“I cannot be your caretaker, your assistant. Basically, I cannot be your mom anymore,” she hiccoughed. “I will send for my things tomorrow, but I am going home tonight.”

Michael stood and shook his head.

“I already called the cab. Please don’t make this harder than what it is.”

He motioned then grabbed those silly cards the hospital had given him. He held up the one with a question mark on it.

“Why?” Ann asked. “I am not happy here. Please just let me go.”

He looked so sad and disappointed. Uncertain and a little lost.

“I will call Elle in the morning. They will be able to sort out your appointments and such with the day planner,” even now she was trying to take care of him. She took a deep breath. “I am going to wait outside. Please don’t follow me.”

He watched her go to the door.

“Stay,” he croaked the word. “Puddle…puddle. Stay.”

She gave another sob and leaned her head on the door. It took a minute to compose herself enough to look at him through a sheen of tears.

“Goodbye Michael.”

And then she was gone.