I don’t know where he got the idea that I’d ever be okay with him not communicating with me at all on these “trips.” The first trip he took since we’ve been married was a week. He called me when he touched down and every night while he was there. He sent me texts saying how much he missed me. Before we were married, he called me and kept in contact with me. Now he acts as if no communication is as normal as walking across the street.
“I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’d be okay with this,” I say in disbelief.
He sighs and holds the back of his head. “I’m going to lie down. I’ve had a long flight. I missed you. I thought you missed me. But I’m not doing this,” he says dryly, walking away from me.
“You missed me?” I ask sarcastically, following him. “Oh, that’s nice. I couldn’t tell since I didn’t hear from you. Not even once.”
I follow him up the stairs. He’s quiet as a mouse, not responding to me at all, kind of like when he was gone. Once we reach our room, he sighs as if he’s exasperated. He’s exasperated?
“Hello!” I say, waiting for some type of response, but he still doesn’t reply.
He lifts his shirt over his head and removes it, then he undoes his pants and takes them off. A second later, he’s lying across the bed. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” He glances at me before closing his eyes.
“Seriously, Cal?” I say angrily.
He doesn’t respond and grabs a pillow, settling it under his head.
“What the hell were you doing for three, four days that you couldn’t answer your phone or call me? How the hell do you think I’m supposed to react to this!” I say frantically.
This is a fucking joke. It has to be. Still, he doesn’t respond and turns his head away from me. I grab a stray pillow beside him and hit him with it as hard as I can. He barely flinches but grabs it and covers his head with it.
“You… you know. You’re being a real asshole right now. Worse,” I say before my voice completely breaks.
I grab my throw blanket off the bed and quickly leave the room before tears escape my eyes. After I make it downstairs, I turn on the television and settle onto the couch, curling up in my blanket. I wonder why on the first night the love of my life is home, we’re sleeping in separate rooms. If someone had told me this would happen four days ago, I would have laughed in their face.
A loud thud accompanied by a “fuck” awakens me.
The lights are all off, but the moonlight through the window allows me to see that Cal has tripped over the bag he left downstairs. I’d laugh if I weren’t so tired.
I settle my head back onto my pillow and close my eyes. I hear his footsteps coming near me, and my comfortable position is disturbed as couch cushions are removed from behind me. They’re soon replaced by Cal’s hard chest. He’s settling in behind me, one of his arms crosses over my stomach, and he pulls me toward him, nestling his head in my neck. A smile spreads across my face. I can’t help it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He takes my hand, interlocks his fingers between mine, and kisses them.
I squeeze his hand, but I don’t say anything.
“I was ass earlier,” he says quietly in my ear before kissing me there, and I sigh.
I’m still mad, but that doesn’t stop the throbbing he’s causing between my thighs. This sucks; my anger doesn’t stop me from wanting him. My sadness makes me want him even more.
“A huge ass,” I relent with a slight laugh.
I turn over on my back, and he leans over me. His lips kiss mine slowly, savoring each of them, and I kiss him back the same way. I cup his face, and he pulls me on top of him. I straddle him and lay my head on his chest. He strokes my back, and I feel him trace his signature on me. I can’t believe how much I missed that. He leans up, pulling my knees forward until our chests are touching, then reverses our positions so I’m now on my back.
“I just didn’t want to argue,” he says, trailing off, trying to excuse himself from his earlier behavior.
“I didn’t want to argue either.” I run my hands through his hair. I missed his kiss, his touch, his scent, everything about him.
“I was going crazy without you,” he says, kissing my shoulder and making his way to my neck. “I missed you.” His mouth then nears my ear again. “I’m about to show you how much,” he adds before his lips trail down my stomach.
I close my eyes and let him have me, my body already revealing how much it missed him. I know we probably should talk about how—or more importantly, why—our first fight occurred, but we don’t. At this moment, I just want peace. We both do, and we get lost in our first married make-up. Still, this only seems like temporary peacetime, our white flags not even raised, just peeking out from behind our bunkers. Deep down, I know this isn’t the end of this battle, and I’m content with that. What terrifies me is the little voice in my head saying this isn’t what happens at the end of a battle, but it could possibly be the beginning of a war.
March 8th, 2013
“I can do this,” I remind myself out loud as I stare at the house in front of me.
I’ve managed to work up the nerve to get out of the car. Now if only I can manage to walk up to the front door.
I’m standing here, my legs unable to move. I take in my surroundings. It’s a stark contrast to the city life I’ve become accustomed to. The house is beautiful, as if it’s right out of a Disney movie. The soft yellow paint and huge front porch remind me of Raven’s back in Saginaw, only a lot bigger. I notice the huge barn a few feet away from it; the acres surrounding it are strewn with gated off animals.
I stuff my keys in the deep pocket of my jacket as I get closer to the door. I suddenly start to wonder what I’ll do if no one is home. I climb the few stairs of the porch and take a deep breath before I ring the bell. I step away from the door and peer through the window; the curtains are slightly open.
From what I can see, the room is spotless with a fireplace in the center. The warm, honey-colored walls give it a welcoming feeling, and a tan sofa and chair surround a coffee table. I quickly remind myself that I’m peeping into someone’s home and move back toward the front of the door.
I ring the doorbell again. I notice myself sort of dancing, trying to calm my nerves and channel my adrenaline. I ring the bell twice in a row and knock frantically. The composure I had managed to muster earlier is starting to dissolve.
“Maybe no one’s home,” I tell myself and turn to head back down the stairs, but I hear the door open behind me. I stop in my tracks, almost afraid to turn around.
“Can I help you?”
His voice stops me immediately. I don’t even have to turn around to see that it’s him. I grab the railing to keep myself from falling over.
“Cal,” I say so softly that I’m not sure he can hear me.
I turn around and my eyes water. I walk toward him slowly, feeling as if I’m going to wake up any second. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. When I reach him, he still looks the same, only his eyes are almost all green, gray intermingled with the dominant green hue. I slowly move my hand to touch his face, even though it’s shaking uncontrollably.