done with me. Just like that? The burn grows and I need space. “I’ll go make some breakfast.”
“Sure. Yeah.” She stabs a hand through her hair to push it off her face. “Um… this weekend isn’t your regular weekend with them if you want to head out. I think I’ve got it from here.”
I forget making the bed. She wants me gone?
When I asked to stay here for the week, I assumed the weekend was part of it. I assumed… a lot more than she was ready for, obviously. “I can stay and help all weekend.”
She shakes her head, but avoids my gaze. “No, but thanks. You’ll have the girls next weekend and if you actually do the whole weekend, that’ll give me time to catch up.”
And if you actually do the whole weekend.
When haven’t I? I thought back to my time with the girls. It involved a lot of juggling and sometimes I had to bring them back early to make conference calls. And there were a few trips out of town when I either flew out on Sunday or came back on Saturday.
So, yeah. I stiffed Natalie quite a bit.
“They’ll be with me the whole time. Don’t worry.”
Her expression is dubious, but she nods and escapes to the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind her. A minute goes by where I do nothing but stare at it.
Footsteps and voices echo through the house. The kids are awake. I need to pack. And leave.
My chest tightens until it’s hard to draw breath. I need to leave.
But I can hang out while Natalie collects herself. For a couple hours, I can pretend I’m a dad who doesn’t have to leave and go days without seeing them when we live in the same town.
My time is cut short. I barely say good morning to the kids when Natalie comes out of the bathroom and announces that she’s taking the kids to see Nana.
I give them goodbye hugs and let them help me pack my suits and bags in the car. I send Charlie a message that I’ll drop my items off at the dry cleaners so he doesn’t look for them when he swaps out clean with dirty suits tomorrow.
The drive to my place sucks. Each mile farther away I get from the house, my mood darkens.
I park in front of the squat, square dry cleaning building and stare out the windshield. People drive by. Adults and kids. Families. Out doing something fun for Saturday.
That could be me.
I yank the car door open and gather my items. A middle-aged woman walking out of the dry cleaners politely holds the door open for me, but her smile fades when she sees the expression on my face. She darts away as soon as I’m clear of the doorway.
My items are left with the teenager stuck with the weekend shift. I leave and go to my condo. Once I let myself in, I busy myself with unpacking. That takes all of five minutes.
The place is quiet. The traffic noise from outside doesn’t make its way in. As old as the building is, the floors don’t creak under my feet. There’s no laughter. No TV or music from games and toys, and definitely no arguing over who really owns the Harley Quinn doll and therefore who gets rights to playing with it whenever they want.
I drop into a chair in the living room. Have I ever sat in this before? Sometimes I catch the news on the couch. Gazing out the window, I do nothing for a long, long time.
I keep going back to this morning. To the exquisite pleasure of being intimate with my wife. Then to the dawning horror when she realized that I slept with her all night.
Natalie wants me gone. The thought of being intimate with me affects her so much she’d rather not have me around.
Being intimate with me affects her.
Three times now, she’s responded to me. Both in mind and body, though her conscious mind overrides it all.
She’s still attracted to me.
A small smile creeps along my lips. I can work with that.
Natalie
The weekend without Simon sucks. There’s no sugar-coating it. No pretending that I’m fine, that me and the girls do just fine, and life from here on out is awesome.
It’s like those first months alone after Simon moved out. I’m hovering just above being despondent and the girls are clingier, needier. Every time I sit down, one of them is on me. If I get up to