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18
Tristan
It’s been a week since Meredith showed up at my front door. I still have not kicked her out.
It’s awkward as hell, yes, but I don’t want her to leave. It’s nice to have her company, and yeah, the sex is good too, I’m not going to lie.
We have sex twice a day, like clockwork. Once around lunchtime, and once late at night.
Meredith does something to me. Opens a creative well that has been clogged with the weight of being a caretaker.
Sex calms me.
Laughing eases the pressure on my shoulders.
Talking helps settle the thoughts that run rampant in my head.
Yes, she’s a bit crazy, and yes, she’s a drunk, but can I be honest? I kind of like it when she’s drunk. She’s fun and carefree, and she reminds me to take pleasure in the little things. I envy her. How wonderful would it be to be able to tap into that kind of joy, even if it’s chemically induced.
It’s clear that Lavi doesn’t like her, and vice versa. But why should I care? I’m paying Lavi to do a job. Her ill feelings toward my ex-wife are on her, not me. I will not allow that guilt to pile onto the mountain of guilt I feel already.
I will not allow it.
I don’t know if I love Meredith.
I don’t know if I can ever love again. But I have decided to take this day by day. Yesterday was good; today is good. Tomorrow might be even better. Hopeful thinking? I haven’t had hope for so long, I’ve forgotten what it feels like.
Maybe I can do this. Instead of being chained down by my wife’s failed attempt at killing herself, I can embrace the light that Meredith brings into my life.
Focus onthat, not my ailing wife who didn’t even care enough about me to live.
Maybe this can be my new normal.
Maybe everything is happening exactly as it’s supposed to.
19
Tristan
Ilean back and stare at the document on my computer.
My eyes hurt, my head hurts, my hair hurts. I am at the midway point in my manuscript, otherwise known as the point when I begin to second-guess everything I’ve written thus far.
The clock, I’m surprised to see, shows that it’s past midnight. I’ve been laser focused for the last two days.
I frown. Meredith hasn’t come to visit me like she usually does. I haven’t seen her since ... since when?
Lunchtime? Or was it before that?
Where is she?
I tap the face of my phone. No text from her.
Huh.
My back pops painfully as I push out of the chair.
I haven’t been into Nina’s room a single time today—and I only visited once yesterday.
