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A small smile played upon his lips and I had to fight the urge to not smack him upside the head with the griddle on the stove.
“I really don't know what you think is so funny,” I growled.
“You are,” he said. “I mean, I understand you're pissed. But, is the garage really worth being this upset about? Seriously, Hadley?”
“Chris, the garage is a mess and you've been swearing to me, up and down – ”
“I work on the cars and shit out there, Hadley,” he snapped back. “It's a garage. It's not like you bring your fuckin' book club in there or anything.”
I took a long breath and let it out slowly. He was not getting it. He was just not getting it. It was about the garage, yes, but it was about more than that. It was about never getting any help.
“You know I work, right?” I asked. “You know I don't just sit around the house all day watching soap operas?”
“Of course I do.”
“So, why is it that I'm the only one who can seem to manage to lift a finger around here?” I asked. “Why is it that I end up doing everything around here?”
“That's not – ”
My eyes grew wide and the anger surged within me. “Oh? When was the last time you did the dishes, Chris?” I snarled. “When was the last time you dusted? Or vacuumed? Or did – any of the housework around the house?”
Chris' face darkened, and I saw the heat creeping into his cheeks. He was getting angrier, but I didn't care. I had a valid point and I was going to make it. I needed help around the house and I was going to have it.
Chris stood up suddenly. “I have to go,” he said. “I need to get to work.”
“Oh, that's right, run off,” I said. “We can't have actual adult conversations around here, can we?”
“Oh, is that what this is? I was unaware,” he said. “Stupid me, I just thought you were screaming at me. Again. I have to go.”
“This isn't over,” I said as he walked out of the kitchen. “This is far from over, Chris.”
The front door slammed behind him and I was left standing in the kitchen, my body shaking with frustration and an impotent rage.
As I thought back about that day, I was consumed by guilt and regret. I wished that I hadn't been so mean. The issue really wasn't that big of a deal. It was something that probably could have been hashed out over a glass of wine and a quiet talk. Chris was a lot of things, but he had never unreasonable.
It broke my heart into a thousand little pieces to know those were my last words to the man I loved. In my righteous anger, I never once thought that when he walked out the door that day, that would be the last time I ever saw him. I guess I'd expected that he'd come home later that night, we'd talk it out, and end up laughing about what was a massive overreaction to a simple problem.
Some cracked out asshole had kept that from happening though. What should have been a routine thing turned into a death sentence for my husband.
Couples fight. Oftentimes, about stupid, silly things. Not everybody though, is left with the regret that comes with one of those stupid, silly arguments being the last interaction they have with their loved one.
Unfortunately, I was one of those horrible people who was left with that kind of emotional baggage. Baggage I knew, would haunt me for the rest of my life. It had already been two years and I still felt as raw as the day it had happened.
As I sat there, thinking about Chris, my mind drifted to thoughts of Gabe, Evan, and Jared again, and a new thread of guilt wound its way around my heart, squeezed it tight. By sleeping with them, in a way, I'd been simply trying to stay connected to Chris. To be closer to him. I loved all three of the brothers, that was never a question or doubt in my mind.
What was suddenly a question though, was whether or not I'd betrayed Chris' memory by sleeping with his best friends. Had I, in my grief, used his friends as a way of somehow trying to make myself feel better about the fact that we had a fight the last time I saw him? Was I trying to use his brothers to assuage my guilt?
My mind was a mess and I had no idea what I was thinking. Everything was such an absolute clusterfuck and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and go to sleep for the next thirty years.
“Mama?”
I looked up at the sound of Grayson's voice. He was standing just inside the doorway to my office, half-hidden behind the door.
“What is it, baby?”
“I miss your friends,” he said, his voice so small and fragile. “We see them again soon?”
I sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, eventually, letting it out slowly as I tried to get my heart under control. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my tongue hard, willing them not to fall.
