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 of 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 wonder 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.
I feel so overwhelmed by my loneliness that I cry most of my drive home. Crossing the river is particularly hard today. I miss my parents and want more than anything else to talk to my mother. Not that I want to say anything. I just want to feel her embrace and hear her voice again. I dry my eyes once I park, hopeful Jon won’t notice how red they are.
I’m barely in the door when Jon says, "Were you going to tell me?"
I look to where he is sitting, confused, not sure what he’s talking about.
"You didn’t think I would figure it out when they contacted me?"
Someone contacted him. Could it be about one of the resumes I sent? "Did you get an interview?"
"So it was you. No, I did not get an interview. What I got was the opportunity to make a complete ass out of myself when they called because I had no idea who they were and why the fuck they were calling me."
"Oh no." This was not good. I close my eyes and set my things down as he continues.
"You didn’t think it might help to tell me someone might be calling me? Or did you just want me to sound like a complete idiot on the phone with them?"
"I was only trying to help."
"Sure you were. Can you do me a favor and let me fucking handle it?"
"I just thought—"
"No, you didn’t fucking think."
Tears cloud my eyes as I rush to our room and shut the door. Jon is close behind me, though, and pushes the door open. "Don’t you ever walk away from me when I am talking to you."
I cover my ears with my hands and look down as I try to block him out. Jon stands over me almost panting with anger. After a few moments, I peer up at where Jon had been standing to find I am now alone. As my heart slowly stops pounding, I pull my legs into my chest and hug them, jerking up at the sound of the front door slamming. Jon has left, and I am grateful for it. My only fear is about my car not being back in time for me to get to work the