It’s so strange to look at Jon when I think about the days I was so madly in love with him. I still remember so vividly how just the sight of him could make my heart beat wildly in my chest. It is so different now when I look at him. Jon is softer around the waist. Sitting around the apartment did that to him. He never smiles anymore, and his eyes, which had once been so captivating, are dull now. Sometimes I try to imagine the last year from his perspective. I can just never understand why if he had been hurting emotionally instead of coming to me for help he had chosen to instead intimidate me.
It’s difficult for me to feel sympathetic towards him when his cruel actions and indifference are still so fresh in my mind. I cannot imagine him touching me romantically again. One day we are both in the kitchen at the same time, and his hand accidentally almost brushes against mine. I jerk my hand back and clutch it to my chest as though the contact had burned me. I do not feel sorrow when I see his wounded reaction. He made me this way. Jon keeps a careful distance after that.
Jon applies for jobs with renewed vigor. I had been certain for so long that he would never find something that it comes as a shock to me when he does. The pay is much less than the job he had lost, but in this economy, he considers himself lucky to have gotten it at all. He works in a warehouse stocking long haul trucks for delivery. This job is very different from the white collar jobs he is used to. The perks are that it’s located on a bus line so it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have a car, and he only really needs to buy a pair of sturdy steel-toed boots. The other clothes he has are fine.
Our morning routine ends up being similar to what it was in the past. Instead of walking over to kiss him in the morning to let him know the shower is free, I just shout it. Jon breaks out the coffee machine for a couple of cups in the morning. Somehow I can't really drink it anymore, I can't go back to how we were and don’t know if I want to start it again. Since it’s still very cold in the morning, I drive Jon to the bus stop near our building. As he’s getting out of my car one morning, Jon pauses as if he is going to tell me something but then just shakes his head and closes the door. I wonder what he was about to say.
The heavy lifting and little time for rest at Jon's new job make him a walking zombie for the first couple of months that he works there. He walks home from the bus stop and showers before crashing, too tired for dinner most nights. One night, Jon is so exhausted that he falls asleep on the bus and has to take another bus back to our house. I enjoy the feeling of coming home to an empty house, and Jon is so tired when he is home he sleeps most of the time he’s there. With the exception of some money for the bus and lunches, Jon gives his entire first paycheck to me. With the next he pays to have a friend fix the dent on my car.
I watch as his attitude and body change with his new job. He smiles more, loses weight, and builds muscle. Seeing him look as he had in the past is harder for me than I expect it to be. It hurts to see him that way and know I don’t love him anymore. I’m not sure how Jon feels and wonder if he will leave now that he has a job and a means to support himself. I almost expect it and then don’t understand why he hasn’t. During the year of his unemployment, Jon seemed to outright dislike me. Now he just seems pensive, never making a move to talk to me or is so neutral when he does that it is impossible for me to gauge what he might be thinking.
This new routine goes on for months. Jon becomes accustomed to the demands of his new job and is able to remain conscious past dinner time. He does not