The Silent Treatment

Shoving his gun into his pants under his shirt. I stared at him as he rambled about already running late and that he'll be back for dinner. Yeah, he said that yesterday and I stayed up late in the dining room watching the food go cold. I didn't even feel him get into bed with me by the time he got back because I was passed out. Then I got the pleasure of waking up to a cold, empty bed alone. And now I watch him trying to shovel cereal into his mouth before he has to leave. My stomach churned painfully, I didn't eat last night. I can't eat without Rio; so when I realized he's not coming I packed the food away and collapsed into bed without so much as a taste. I'm still dressed in yesterday's clothes and not fully awake yet. Disappointment tugs at me but I just smiled at him, told him to have a good day, and that I hope he gets home safe.

After doing laundry, I decided to make Rio some lunch and bring it to him at the warehouse. Beef burgers with homemade brioche buns. It took me quite a bit especially the buns. One hour for the dough to rise, shape the dough into balls and then another hour for the second rise, and finally, put the balls into a baking pan with a final hour for the third rise. I took care in putting the burgers together deciding it's best if he gets two.

I drove to the warehouse in the car Rio'd given me. I made sure to take the corners carefully not wanting the burgers to fall apart in the lunch box I had put them in. Pairs of eyes scrutinized me as I walked past them to get to the office. Rio's head popped up when I knocked on the open door. He stared at me from across the room eyes filled with question. "I brought you something. I figured you might be hungry." I held up the lunch box as I spoke.

Unease filled me when his expression changed from being shocked to looking unimpressed. "Mira, ma, I got a lot going on," guilt gnawed at me. "Don't worry about me, OK? Worry 'bout yourself." I walked into the office setting the lunch box on the far end of the desk. "I'll just leave this here. Maybe you'll get a spare minute" he said nothing as I turned around and walked out.

I went about the rest of my day cleaning and tidying the house. Cleaning the shower took up most of it. It's very satisfying to make the grout shine its original white shade again. Then I vacuumed. It was already dark out when I tried texting Rio asking if he would be home for dinner and if he'd like me to make him something specific. I stared at the screen waiting for his response.

Two hours pass, it's eleven pm.

Still no reply

Upset, I took a shower, blasting the water against my skin as hot as I could possibly stand it. I fought the urge to cry as I ran the soapy cloth across my skin. Showers had always been my safe space: my release. The water hides your tears. The water masks all the sounds you might make. To the shower, your tears are just another drop in the ocean and your emotions don't seem as big. I only forced myself out of the shower when the water started to run cold.

I lie awake in bed willing sleep to pull me under. A soft click echoes from down stares as Rio unlocks the door. He groans as he pulls off his shoes and makes his way upstairs. Ruffling sounds through our bedroom as he shucks off his clothes. When he finally slides into bed he's only wearing underwear. "I missed you," he mumbles into my hair as he snuggles up to me, using an arm to pull me in close and throwing his leg over mine. I can't find it within me to find his careless whispers sweet. I'm too angry. Too hurt.

I once again wake up to a cold empty bed. Except this time, I don't catch him on the way out the door. He's already gone. The only evidence that he was ever here is a mug in the sink dirty with coffee residue. I find the lunch box I gave him yesterday for lunch tucked away in the fridge with not so much as a single bite taken out of either of the burgers. I try to strengthen my resolve hoping the tears don't come but it seems my luck has run out. I curl up on our ugly brown couch that sits in front of the TV as the tears stream from me. I can't stop them until after two hours I'm all dried up. I drag myself off the couch so that I can go about my normal daily routine even though my heart still hurts.