I had been almost sad to see my friend pull up. Jon had my number and promised he would call the next day. I traced my lips, feeling his phantom lips still on them. Claire, my friend and neighbor, teased me on the ride to our building. She had never seen me like this and was still stunned I had ditched my date for him. It had been completely out of character for me. Claire had seen Jon, so it was easy to see why I had been so taken. Claire was just hopeful he had some cute single friends for herself.
I dry off after my shower. Our bathroom does not have a fan for the steam, only a small window that I should have opened but didn’t. The window is meant to vent the steam, but it is too cold outside this time of year. I use my hand to wipe condensation off the mirror and look at myself. Nothing to see now, and once I had been so desirable. We would get past this. I dress and brush my hair, leaving it down. Maybe Jon will be happy to see how long it is getting.
Jon is in his armchair when I come back into the front room. The roll I had eaten is the only one missing from the tray. He hadn’t had one. Why not? I look at the tray and back to Jon. He's sitting with his head down, still reading. He had not even acknowledged I had come in to the room.
"I made rolls."
"Not hungry," he says. turning a page of his book.
"But I—"
Jon huffs and looks up at me. "Yes?"
"Nothing."
I hurry back to our bedroom and sit on our bed. Why am I so upset? My emotions are overwhelming me. I bring my hand up to cover my mouth as I quietly break down. I don’t want Jon to hear me. I don’t want Jon to see me like this right now. He must have heard me, though, because I look up, and he is standing in the doorway, coldly looking down at me.
"You're crying over some fucking rolls."
"I…I…I"
"You what?"
I just sit there shaking my head.
"Spit it out!"
Jon is yelling now and standing over me. I shrink further down, pulling my shoulders in, a sitting fetal position. He words a roar in my ears, I cannot understand him. Why am I getting yelled at for crying? It is surreal, almost as though I am watching from the other side of the room. His anger is now wholly directed at me. All I try to do is love him and support him. Why is he so angry at me?
Jon tries to lift my chin up, to make me look at him. I struggle to keep my face down, his fingernails biting into my skin, I want him to go away. I don't want him to see me like this. He throws his hands up in frustration and storms out, banging the door shut behind him. From the bedroom I hear a crash in the kitchen and then the jingle of keys being taken off the hook by the door followed by the boom of the front door closing behind him. I want to go see what the noise in the kitchen had been but feel incapable of standing. Falling over onto my side, I pull my legs up into my arms and hug myself.
When I am all cried out, I go into the kitchen to see what Jon has done. The pan of rolls no longer sits on the stovetop. The pan is on the floor, and a sticky mess of rolls is everywhere. Instead of crying again, I start cleaning. I throw away all of the rolls, even the ones that had landed on the countertop and not the floor, telling myself I will never make rolls again. Once the rolls are in the trash, I take a soapy sponge and begin cleaning the icing from the walls, countertops, cabinet doors, and floor. I notice right away he took my keys, meaning he probably took my car too. Where did he go? When would he be back?
Given the weather and being without my car, I feel trapped and stir crazy. I gather up our laundry and a roll of quarters, huffing it downstairs to the laundry room for our building. I lock the door behind me using Jon's keys. The machines are smaller than the machines at the Laundromat down the street and cost