furniture is a memory. The wine rack that we purchased was the first thing we bought together. The gray sofa with removable pillows was a fight I lost. I didn’t want the cushions to be removable, because they always end up sagging, but Kat insisted the brand was quality.
The plush cushions still look like they did in the store, and I wonder if she was right or if it’s just because we don’t even sit on the damn thing.
I’m never here and she’s always working. What’s the point of it?
The bitter thought makes me kick the duffle bag out of my way and head past the living room and dining room, straight to the stairs so I can get to bed and lie down with Kat. It’s been almost a week since I’ve slept in the same room as her and I refuse to let that go on for another night. I pause to look at the photos on the wall.
They’re all in black and white, the way Kat likes her décor. All but one, the largest in the very center. It’s also the only one that’s not staged.
She’s leaning toward me, and her lips look so red as she’s midlaugh, holding a crystal glass of champagne and wrapping her fingers around my forearm. Her eyes are on whoever was giving a speech. I don’t remember who it was or what they said, but I can still hear her laugh. It’s the most beautiful sound.
She was so happy on our wedding day. I thought she’d be stressed and worried, but it was like a weight was lifted and the sweetest version of her was given to me that day. There’s nothing but love there.
My eyes are on her in that picture, with a smile on my face and pride in my eyes.
I tear my gaze away and keep walking, feeling the weight of everything press down on my shoulders. I’m exhausted and like the childish fool I am, I wish I could just go to sleep and this would all be a dream.
I want to go back to when we first married. Before we both got caught up in work and decided to live separate lives. Before I fucked up.
I just want to go back to that day.
As I pass the open office door I hear the clicking of the computer keyboard. So many nights I’ve come home to this, so many mornings I’ve woken up to it. She’s always in this room, which is a shame. There’s hardly any light, or anything at all in the room. File cabinets, papers, a shredder and a desk. There’s not a hint of the woman Kat is in this room.
I guess it’s the same as the living room, but at least there’s a classic elegance there. It’s nothing but cold in her office.
“Hey babe,” I say softly and Kat ignores me.
I clear my throat and speak louder. “I’m home,” I tell her and again, I get nothing from Kat, just the steady clicks. There’s an empty wine glass and two bottles on the floor by her feet.
Maybe she’s a little drunk, maybe she has her earplugs in too, but still, she’d hear me.
My teeth grind together as I grip the handle of the door harder. She deserves better. Yeah, I know she does. And this is the shit I deserve, but I don’t want it. I won’t go down without fighting for what I want.
The standing lamp in the corner of her office is on, but it’s not enough to brighten the room. Even the glow of the computer screen is visible.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask her and her only response is that her fingers stop moving across the keys.
She doesn’t turn to face me or give any sign that I’ve spoken to her.
“I don’t want to fight, Kat,” I tell her and force every bit of emotion into my words. “I don’t want this.”
She turns slowly in her seat, a baggy t-shirt covering her body to her upper thighs. Her exposed skin is pale and the dark room makes her look that much paler. Her green eyes give her away though. Nothing but sadness there.
My body is pulled to her, and I can’t help it. I can’t stand that look in her eyes. Before I can tell her I love her and I’m sorry, before I can come up with some lame excuse, she cuts me off.
“I wanted to last night,” she says and then crosses her arms. She