Page 92 of No Greater Oblivion

“What are you doing?”

“Just…rearranging.”

“Get dressed.”

“I’m not in the mood for a drive.”

“It’ll be worth it.” He gets up and kisses the top of my head. “Promise.”

He doesn’t notice the way I flinch every time he gets close. Maybe he would if he bothered to pay attention to me. “I don’t want to. I’d rather go home.”

All day I’ve been running through what to say in my mind; drafting, editing, and revising whatever script I think might work best.

I know we love each other but this isn’t working anymore.

Someone had to be brave enough to say it.

I want more for myself.

I can’t take it anymore.

Please don’t let me go without a fight.

This is the only time we’ll be able to have a conversation like this without running the risk of being heard or interrupted. Not to mention home is dangerously familiar and I know I’ll lose my nerve to say anything. The second we walk through the door we’ll fall back into the same rhythmic routine of life together where our clothes hang in the same closets and our toothbrushes occupy the same corner of the sink. We’ll sleep in the same bed and when he reaches for me at night, I’ll give in to the crippling loneliness and lose myself to the illusion of being loved by him again.

I am no longer the center of his universe. Something else has captured his attention and I’ve been expelled to the dark side of the moon. I have no idea how to find my way back but maybe I don’t want to. Maybe this is a sign to leave while I still can, while there’s a bit of fight left in me.

Is this what happened to Mom? Is this how she got stuck with Papi?

I shake the thought from my head.

We are not my parents and I am not my mother.

“Go home? We’ve barely been here a day.” He tries to sound encouraging but it lacks something. Perhaps sincerity. “There’s plenty to do.”

“I think I did enough while I was being held captive last summer.”

“Ha-ha,” he remarks. “Very funny.”

I set down the shirt I was folding and turn to him. “Look, I was thinking⁠—”

Ringing cuts me off. I hold my breath as he reaches into his pocket.

Please turn it off.

Please.

Please.

Please.

He reads the screen for a second too long and I panic.

“Are you going to answer that?”

“Unfortunately.” He sighs and lifts the device toward his ear. “It’s Dimit⁠—”

I bolt to my feet. I can’t stop the words that come out of me next. “Do I even fucking exist to you?”