“He fell asleep on the floor.” She grins, coming down the stairs. “Like literally in the middle of his Legos. So I covered him with a blanket. I knew if I tried to move him into bed, he’d wake up.” Julie picks up the dishes from lunch and brings me my medications with a glass of water.
“She calls you Boss Bitch.”
Julie pauses for a second. After a few blinks, she hands me my pills. “Who?”
“Dorothy. I’m pretty sure it’s a good thing.”
“Mmm …” She nods. “Usually.”
“You’re smirking. You know it’s good. You know it’s a compliment.”
“It’s … a nice compliment. Yeah.”
“She knows your stats. Listened to you give talks. She pretty much idolizes you as a doctor. How does that feel?”
“How does it feel to know your girlfriend looks up to me—at least professionally?” She sits on the sofa, angling her body to face me. “It feels good. And a little weird.”
“Does it make it harder for you to dislike her?”
“I don’t dislike her.”
“You dislike her with me.”
Julie presses her lips together and flips her long, red hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to say it. I can see it. Why? Is it Dorothy in particular, or would it matter who kissed me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, averting her gaze. “I don’t know about anything anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“The definition of Hell: Having everything you should ever want and still wanting more.” She runs her fingers through her hair, drawing in a shaky breath then blowing it out slowly as emotion turns red in her eyes. “I wasn’t happy and I didn’t know why.” She quickly wipes away a tear. “We had a baby. A baby, Eli. And it wasn’t enough. Wh…” she clears thick anguish from her throat “…what kind of person throws away everything because it’s not enough? I actually had tests done—hormone tests, brain scans—I honestly thought something was physically wrong with me to feel so incredibly dissatisfied. So … angry.”
Still, after all the pain and anger, I still break inside watching Julie grasp for that invisible thing that tortures her.
“Everything irritated me. I constantly felt on the verge of either starting a fight or having a complete breakdown. And you were the recipient of all of it. Even when you didn’t realize it. For two years before we separated, I resented the way you combed your hair, the way you laughed, the childish voice you used when talking to Roman, the scent of your cologne, the rhythm of your words, that stupid pause you take before answering a question, like your mind is always on a two-second delay, the way you slurp your smoothies and stir your coffee, just … every damn thing about you drove me to the verge of insanity. And without one single shred of reason.”
I think regaining my memories from falling into the ravine would hurt less than her words. And yet, I know she isn’t saying them to hurt me. Still … they rip open old wounds, ones that can’t be repaired by the expert hands of surgeons. I hold onto my words and mask my reaction.
“I hated myself. I just … hated myself for hating you. I hated myself for wanting out. I felt like the worst mother, the worst wife and daughter, the worst friend … I felt like the worst h-human.” Her words fall apart. “And I just needed out, but I didn’t know how to tell you that. You were perfect. And I wanted nothing to do with you. What does that say about me? There were times I actually hoped you’d cheat on me so I could have an out. But not Elijah … nope. You would never do that. And even that irritated me. Who thinks that? What sane human being hopes their spouse will cheat on them?”
I don’t know. Maybe that means I’m sane. But I refuse to make that wager. After all … I’ve done some mildly insane things with Dorothy in the past few weeks.
“So I pulled the plug on our marriage. And I changed everything I hated about myself on the outside, but it didn’t change how I felt on the inside. I signed up for classes like pole fitness, and I tried speed dating. Then I went through three different psychiatrists, tried healing touch and meditation. When that didn’t work, I downloaded an app for hooking up and I fucked ten strangers in less than two weeks.”