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The plan was to not renew it. To buy a house and start a family. But with the way things are now, I can’t see that happening.
“I don’t know!” He explodes, catching the attention of people seated at a table next to us. “One day, Bailey! All I’m asking for is one day without the constant stress and fighting. I get enough of that at work. I don’t need it at home!”
My cheeks heat with humiliation as more heads swivel in our direction.
“Keep your voice down. You’re causing a scene,” I whisper, reaching out, hoping to try and calm him, to defuse the situation. The last thing I want is to air our dirty laundry in public or worse, be asked to leave.
His phone rings, and I watch in disbelief as he shakes off my hand and snatches it up.
“Seriously, Quinn? You’re going to answer that right now?”
“Seriously, Bailey,” he sneers. “I might as well, seeing as I can’t do anything right in your eyes.”
I’m taken aback at the venom in his voice and watch in mute disbelief as he leaves the restaurant without a further word to me.
*****
AN HOUR ANDthree unanswered texts later, it’s clear that Quinn’s not coming back, and my anger has turned into despondency. Tears sting my eyes, but I hold them back. Our conversation feels like ashes on my tongue, lingering, pervading my whole body. I had such high hopes for today. Hope that spending some time together today could get us closer to who we were. Even if it was just a small step, I would have counted that a victory. Instead, the chasm between us is yawning even wider.
My sigh feels like a million pounds weighing on my shoulders when I settle the check and leave the restaurant. We walked here, so at least I’m not stranded. They say that actions speak louder than words, and Quinn keeps saying that he loves me and that things are only temporary. But his actions are saying a whole different thing. It’s his total lack of regard for and his indifferent, ugly attitude that hurts. I’m struggling to reconcile this version of Quinn to the Quinn I have known my whole life.
My heart aches as the last bit of hope I have dies at the sight of the empty apartment. I had hoped that he would have come home. That he would be waiting for me, an apology for leaving me on his tongue, and reassurance that he still loves me in the arms he would wrap around me. Instead, it’s as usual, the empty apartment a soundtrack to my loneliness while I wait for him to come home.
Time creeps by while I busy myself with the mindless tasks of catching up on cleaning. I’ve dusted, swept, and mopped. I’ve done laundry, changed the bedding, and scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom before hunger drives me to the kitchen. Quinn abandoned me before we ordered, and after, I couldn’t stomach the thought of food.
I’ve just thrown a sandwich together when the door rattles, and he steps inside. He pauses when he catches sight of me, and a flicker of something flashes in his eyes. We stare at each other, an unspoken tension swirling in the air between us, making it hard to breathe.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. There are so many questions I want to ask, but each and every one feels like a minefield I’m not ready to navigate.
“No. I ate earlier.”
My stomach drops. Today was supposed to be about us. Spending time together, enjoying a meal and a few drinks together like old times. Instead, he left me and did it somewhere else. Away from me. The thought bruises my battered heart further. Something has to give, and I’m at a loss for what that is. I bite my lip in an effort to stem the hurtful words bubbling in my throat.
“Where were you?”
He drops his gaze and toes off his shoes. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “I needed space and I took it.”
“Quinn, please. It feels like I’m the only one fighting here, and I can’t do it alone. It’s exhausting, and I’m tired. Talk to me, please.”
He closes his eyes briefly and inhales deeply, but when they open again, they’re cold and closed off. “Then stop.” He shrugs, indifference coating his words.
I rear back in shock, my hands shaking. What does that mean? Stop fighting with him, or stop fighting for us?
“Look, I’m tired. All I want is a shower and some sleep. Anything else can wait.”
For the second time today, I watch his back as he strides away, his callous words and the bomb he just dropped on me floating in his wake.
*****
I wish I was the type of person who could shut down on command. I’m tired, and I need sleep. Instead, my mind is all over the place, refusing to let me succumb to exhaustion.
After Quinn’s shower, he parked himself in front of the TV. I retired to the bedroom, and not even a bath with a glass of wine could relax me. I went to bed without a single word being said between us.
I’m feeling defeated, emptiness sitting cold and heavy where the burning desire to fix things once sat. I can’t fight for someone who doesn’t want me to fight. My body tense when I hear the bedroom door open. I don’t ever close it, but I felt the need to create some kind of barrier between us. I feel the covers move and then the faint sound of his body sliding into bed. I don’t move, expecting that to be the end of it. I’ll wait till his breathing evens out before getting up and making a bed on the couch. Instead, he moves closer till he’s pressed up against my back. His arm snakes over me, taking my hand and tangling his fingers with mine.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
His voice is whisper soft in the darkness, his familiar heat and scent wrapping around me. It should warm me, but all I feel is cold. Words are poisoned thorns that embed themselves so deep you can never get rid of it. It festers until you and everything you thought you knew becomes a warped version of what once was.
