“Stop stealing my bacon then.”
He lets out a choked laugh but covers it up with a cough. “If you recall, I gave you bacon this morning but you found the toilet to be greater company than I.”
“For future reference.” I look at his profile and think that he should smile more often. He doesn’t have any of those little crinkles around his eyes that tell you you’re in the presence of a happy person. Something about this makes my chest ache. Caleb had the lines, but he was always smiling. How can his brother seem so different? “And me too. I think it’ll be good if we at least try to tolerate each other,” I say and hold out my hand. “Shake on it?” He stares at my hand like it’s a foreign object. “Oh, right, the no touching of the hands thing. Sorry, I forgot.”
He falls silent for a moment. I see the cogs working in his head as if he’s making a decision. He pulls out onto the street and finally talks. “I don’t like germs.”
“Come again?”
“I have an issue with germs. It’s a real condition.” He adds when he sees the look of shock on my face.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. Don’t bring it up, it only aggravates me. Just ignore it.”
I nod, appreciating his honesty and wanting to respect his request. “I won’t mention it.”
He seems to let out a breath but I can’t be sure as I only saw his chest deflate slower than before with no sound to accompany it.
We fall silent once more. This time it’s comfortable.
******
It’s dinner time and I’m starving. After searching the fridge and cupboards, I decide on spaghetti. I make a mean spaghetti Bolognese according to friends and it’s been forever since I cooked. I want to go up to my room and bury my head, but I need to start taking better care of myself. I’ve lost six pounds, putting me one pound under my recommended weight for my height and size. In reality, that means I’m about four pounds underweight because the baby obviously weighs something.
It scares me. Caleb would never let me go more than a few hours without food. He’d done nothing but force me into the kitchen throughout my entire pregnancy. I knew if he could cook he would have, but after a while of trying and failing on so many different dishes, he just started putting me in there and helping in every way he could.
Caleb… just… I…
Sigh.
Nathan went upstairs as soon as we arrived home three hours ago and hasn’t been back since. Maybe he’s hungry. I should make some for him too.
Oooh, I’ll even be able to make some homemade garlic bread. Brilliant.
I tug the apron on, groaning with frustration when it only just reaches around me enough so I can tie the very ends of the strings together, and set about making dinner. I’m one of those people who cleans as I go along, so even though what I’m doing is quite messy, there isn’t a huge mess left when I’m done.
It smells delicious as it simmers in the pot and even more delicious when the bread begins to rise in the oven. With a glass of juice in my hand, I sit on the counter at the corner and stir the simmering Bolognese. My mouth is watering, I’m so hungry.
Once it’s served, I set the table and contemplate whether I should shout for Nathan or go upstairs and knock for him. I don’t want to piss him off by invading his space so I shout for him first. Unfortunately I get no response, so I shout again.
I make my way up the stairs and shout once more. He’s either being extremely ignorant or he’s not here.
I’ll just knock on his study door.
“Nathan?” I call and knock on the door. “Nathan? Hello?” My hand clasps the handle and I’m about to push the door open when I change my mind. He could be sleeping at his desk or listening to music through his headphones and I don’t want to disturb him, or anger him by invading his space. This is his house. He asked me not to do certain things so I’ll respect that.
I wrap up his plate in foil before placing it in the oven, and pack the leftovers away before putting them in the fridge. I’m mostly doing this just in case Nathan comes down. It’s like I’m delaying so I can eat in his company.
Sitting down at last, I bite into my food and moan. This is so good. I don’t remember when food stopped tasting like ash in my mouth, but I’m grateful I have this one joy back in my life. It’s like a tiny bit of colour poking through all of the grey that is my consciousness.
I’m so glad I chose to be a chef.
It’s lonely here. Too lonely.
I decide to call Sasha but she doesn’t answer. I text her telling her I miss her and to keep me updated on everything. She doesn’t text back. I’m guessing she’s busy so it doesn’t upset me too much. Sasha would never purposefully ignore me.
At least I have all of my things now. The first thing I do is place a photo of me and Caleb at the beach on my nightstand and then I get to work on the rest.
The best part about falling asleep tonight is falling asleep seeing my fiancés face.
The worst part is that when I wake up, his face is still just a picture.
It’s been two whole days and the only person I’ve spoken to is Sasha. She’s fine, worried about me and my sudden decision to up and leave but she understands. Jeanine has been busy and has said hello and goodbye but that has been the extent of our conversations.
I’m going stir crazy. Nathan is here but he’s keeping out of my way completely. When I wake up, breakfast is ready for me. He skips lunch but has eaten every dinner I’ve made and left in the oven. I don’t know how he’s avoided me so well. Are there hidden tunnels in this house?
I’m losing it.
I need to get out but the rain and the wind are relentless and I have no car. There’s never anything on the TV, I don’t have a computer and my phone won’t connect to the Wi-Fi so I can’t do much on that.
I feel like camping out in the kitchen and waiting for Nathan to collect his dinner, but that would be weird and boring. Also, what would I say to him? “Oh, umm, let’s talk?” We have nothing in common. What would we talk about?
Why’s he ignoring me though?
My boredom has reached new levels. I’m currently sat on the cold wood floor in my bedroom doing a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. The problem is that I can’t reach the top end of it because my belly won’t let me bend that far forward. I have to bum shuffle around it on the ground like a dog.
When the doorbell rings I almost cry with relief, even though I know it isn’t for me. I feel like a puppy when its owners come home. In my mind I’m screaming, ‘PEOPLE,’ and wagging my tail.
I’m a freak, it’s simple.
I need conversation. I need distraction. If I don’t have it, my mind wanders and I can’t control the direction in which it wanders. Caleb is becoming a more prominent thought in my mind and each day seems to be getting slower and harder. I genuinely thought I was finally in a good place, not because I’m happy or even content but because I have the strength to keep myself out of bed throughout the day.
Pulling open the door I look at the red haired, plump woman holding up a huge tray of what looks to be lasagne. “I’m a friend of Jeanine’s. She told me there was someone new in town.” She glances at my belly. “Someone new and pregnant. I couldn’t help but be nosy.”