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Authors: Carey Heywood

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BOOK: Stages of Grace
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"What's
your problem?" he asks angrily.

"I just don’t feel good.
" I mumble.

"I don’t know why I even bother," Jon huffs as he gets out of
bed and storms out of the room.

I lie
still as can be, almost frozen by his words. Part of me wants to call him back and do whatever he wants to make him happy. Another part wonders why it is so wrong to not feel good and how Jon can be annoyed at me for it. I feel a sense of shame inside, thinking that there must be something wrong with me that would make Jon act so cold. I feel an overwhelming sense of inadequacy until my exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep.

I wake up again maybe three hours later to the sound of noise coming from the front room. Putting on my robe, I slowly make my way out of the bedroom to see what all of the noise is. The movement makes me feel weak. I have yet to eat or drink anything and am most likely dehydrated. The sound of gunfire from the television is a roar as I approach the front room. When I get there, I see Jon and a neighbor have set up a video game system in the living room and are playing what looks
like a war game.

Our neighbor, a young guy who lives on the first floor sees me walk
in. "Oh man, did we wake you?"

I look at Jon, my brows furrowed. I just do not understand what this guy is doing in our apartment. I know none of the video game stuff is ours. Jon had sold everything he had when he was trying to figure out a way to keep his car. Jon shrugs at me and looks back at the TV. Our neighbor sees my confusion and offers to leave. I wave him off and walk over to the kitchen to get some crackers and a glass of water before returning to bed. With the door closed and the small TV in our room on, I can’t hear the noise from the front room anymore. I nibble on my crackers and sip my water, trying my best to finish
them before I fall back asleep.

It’s
dark outside when I wake again, and the apartment is quiet. My appetite has improved so I make my way to the kitchen to make something. The front room is dark, and there is no sign of Jon. I glance over to the pile of my things on the floor by the door and see that my keys are also gone. He had taken my car again. We had never discussed the dent, and now he is gone again. I wonder how Jon would react if I told him I did not want him using my car unless he checked with me first. I do not think he would react well to that, but it bothers me so much that he keeps taking it without asking.

Exhausted from the activity, I retreat back to our room to sleep. When my alarm clock goes off the next morning, I still feel rough but well enough to go to work. I always hate calling in sick and am already feeling guilty for missing the previous day. When I go to shower I realize Jon is not in bed. I rush into the front room to see if maybe he’s
sleeping on the sofa. He isn’t.

Opening the door to our apartment, I ignore the cold blast of air and rush to the landing to see if my car is in its spot. It’s not. Even if I had wanted to go to work, I can’t. I am too stunned that he had not come home to react immediately. I call my office manager and lie, saying I am
still not feeling well enough to come back and send a text message to Nikita. I get two texts messages back, one from my manager letting me know I can take all the time I need and another from Nikita that is just a frown face.

This is bullshit, and there is no way I can ignore it. This can affect my job and being able to pay our
bills. I cannot help but be concerned as well. What if he had been in an accident and is hurt somewhere? Slumping onto our bed, I go back and forth between whether I should call him or not. Caving, I call him, chewing on my fingernail as it rings and rings and goes to voicemail. In the message I leave him, I try to sound as calm as possible. I let him know I am worried about him and am curious where he is because I need the car to go to work. I hang up, and I pause to reflect on my choice of words. The car. Not that long ago, I had always called it mine.

I lie down with my phone proppe
d up in front of me so I won’t miss his call, but it’s the front door I hear three hours later instead. I had taken a shower and made myself some breakfast while waiting. I am grateful for being up and dressed when I walk into the front room to see a group of people there. I only recognize the neighbor who had been there the day before. There are six people total, four guys and two girls.

"Shouldn’t you be lying down?" Jon says, looking everywhere but at me as a couple of his
new friends snicker behind him.

"Can we talk?" I say quietly a
s I gesture toward our bedroom.

"Yeah,
sure. Hey guys, hang out here."

Jon hurries past me and down the hall to our room. I’m still not feeling great so I follow him slowly. He’s sitting down on his side of the bed, up against his pillows, legs crossed at his ankles in front
of him. He looks very relaxed.

"Wh
at did you want to talk about?"

My mouth drops open. Did he really just ask me that? I cock my head to the side and look at him as though I have never seen him before. It’s like he’s a stranger sitting on my bed. I am rendered momentarily speechles
s and close the door behind me.

"Jon, wh
ere were you?"

"Just hanging out."

"I missed work because you had the car." There it was again, the car.

"I thou
ght you'd still be sick today."

I walk over to sit on my side of the bed. When I sit, Jon gets up and goes to stand by the door. Why did he get
up?

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. We were going to head over to the thing."

The thing?
"Are you taking the car?" The car.

"Yeah.
You’re just going to be in bed."

"I'm going to work tomorrow so I nee
d the car to be here." The car.

"Yeah, yeah…" and he was out t
he door.

No apology. No “how are you feeling?” I sit there wondering what those people in my front room had thought of me, wonder if he had even said anything about me. Not one of them had made a move to introduce
themselves. I suddenly feel paranoid, like I’m the butt of a joke. Maybe Jon will be home early enough tonight that we will have a chance to talk about it. I decide I’ll rest during the day and make a nice dinner for the both of us. If I have the ingredients, I’ll even make Jon's favorite: enchiladas.

I spend most of the day stressing out over where Jon is and what he might be doing. He’s been taking off so much recently I don’t know how I should feel about it. I’m a mixture of
emotions and can’t choose just one. I feel abandoned, jealous, insecure, hurt, and sad all at the same time. I cannot understand why I feel the need to constantly walk around on eggshells around him while he cannot even bother to be polite to me. How is that fair? At this point, I would be so blown over by any small gesture of affection. Can he see that?

I change my clothes into something slightly nicer than the sweats I’ve worn all day and make the enchiladas. As I slide them in the oven to cook, I wonder if it had been silly of me to even assume he will be coming home at dinnertime. I check my phone to see if he had maybe sent me a text. He hasn’t. While dinner cooks, I second-guess myself, not sure if this had been a good idea. At worst I’ll eat alone and pack up the leftovers to take to work as lunch the next day. I turn on the TV to act as a distraction from the thoughts crowding my mind. Watching the news, I learn there is snow in the forecast and dream of s
omeday living someplace warmer.

Jon never shows up. I eat by myself and pack up the leftovers. I leave a note on the fridge that there are leftovers in case Jon is hungry when he gets home. Wanting to be fully rested for work the next day, I head to bed early. When my alarm clock goes off, I’m relieved to see Jon asleep next to me. He must have come home at some point after I went to sleep. Careful not to wake him, I get ready for work. Whe
n I go to the kitchen, I see that he hasn’t eaten the enchiladas and decide to take them with me for lunch, throwing away the note on the fridge.

As I s
it in my car while it warms up, I notice the tank is on E. It had been almost full the last time I had driven it. I’ll have to stop on the way in to work to get some gas. It annoys me, but Jon doesn’t have any money so it’s not like he can buy any gas either way. It would have been nice if he had gotten a couple of bucks from his new friends. I’m worried about filling it up all the way in case he takes the car again. I can’t afford to be filling it up all the time. I fill it up halfway and continue on my way to work. Nikita’s parking at the same time I’m parking and rushes over to greet me.
"How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, Grace. What happened to your car?"

I grimaced. "I feel bett
er. Thanks. Jon hit something."

"I'm so happy you're feeling better. That sucks about your car. What’d he hit
?"

"Not sure. We h
aven’t really talked about it."

"No way.
You are so nice. I would have lost it."

We chat as we head into the office. It’s Friday, and there are many last-minute sick appointments. It seems like whatever I had is going around big time. At lunch, I look over the want ads, not seeing anything that might be a good fit for Jon. I wonder about the two places I had sent his resume to and if they had contacted him. If they had, Jon had not said anything. After lunch, I dip into my spare change dish to buy a soda. It’s been the first day in a while that I had been so active, and
I really need some caffeine.

It has been a long day, and I am
grateful once the day ended and I can go home. All I want to do is make myself another can of soup and go back to bed. Not feeling as though I am in any danger of falling asleep behind the wheel, I skip the metal station this time. Jon is in the front room when I get home, watching TV.

"Wh
at happened to the enchiladas?"

"What?"

He stood. "What happened to the enchiladas?" He enunciates each word.

Oh no, I think
. "I took them to work for lunch today. I didn't know you wanted them. I thought that since you had not eaten them last night that you had not wanted them."

"No. I was actually saving them for lunch for myself today. Just think of how I must have
felt when I went to the fridge and found out they were gone."

Couldn’t have been worse than the feeling I had when I saw my car was gone the day be
fore, I thought to myself. I don’t say it, though. That would only make things worse.

"I can run to the store and get stuff to make some tonight. Would you like that? I'm so sorry. I
did not know you wanted them."

"Do
n’t bother. It’s already done."

"Well, let me make you someth
ing else. What would you like?"

I end up making spaghetti and meatballs per Jon's request. Sure, it’s not the soup I wanted, but it’s still good and now Jon is less upset. After dinner, I wash the pots and pans and dirty dishes from our meal. Jon returns to his armchair and is watching TV. Once I’m done, I go to bed. The next morning, I am relieved to see Jon asleep again beside me. As I was falling asleep last night, I worried that he might go out again. I quietly get out of bed and make myse
lf a cup of tea and some toast.

After washing my cup and plate, I sit down on the sofa to read. My plans for the day are simple: rest, and maybe later on take a couple loads of laundry down to the Laundromat. I am well into my book when Jon comes out of our bedroom. He nods in my direction before making
himself a bowl of cereal. I hold my spot in my book with my hand as I watch him eat. I still think he is so handsome, although recently he looks more tired than he had in the past. If only he could find a job.

"Want something?"

I had zoned off and didn’t realize he had noticed me staring at him.

"Oh, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"It's silly."

"I'm listening."

"I was just thinking how handsome you are." I am not sure why saying that embarrasses me. I used
to tell him that all the time.

Jon shakes his head at me, not looking convinced, and goes back to his breakfast. I return to my book. When he finishes eating, Jon sets his bowl and spoon in the sink for me to clean. I rest my book on the arm o
f the sofa and go to wash them.

~*~

For the most part, over the weekend, we steer clear of each other. If Jon is in the front room, I am in the bedroom and vice versa. Lying in the same bed as Jon each night, I am aware of the fact that I have never felt so distant from him. He doesn’t talk to me anymore. It’s like living with a stranger. I lie in bed thinking of how I can find intimacy with Jon again. It’s hard for me to understand how we have gone from telling each other everything to this. I try not to dwell on thoughts like these. It’s too painful to take alone, and since I can no longer confide in Jon, I feel as though I have no one else.

When I interact with coworkers and patients at work on Monday, I feel like a fraud. I smile and laugh when socially appropriate, but there is a hollowness building within me. Sometimes I wo
nder how everyone around me cannot tell how unhappy I am. Everyone I work with is so busy with their own lives that they don’t seem to notice the change in me, or if they do, no one mentions it. That does not help me from feeling isolated. Even Nikita, who always cheers me up, is preoccupied with something that day.

BOOK: Stages of Grace
13.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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