The Story of Us

Seventeen

I returned home Friday the 18th. He was short with me again, refusing to wash my car or change my oil because it was too hot and a storm was in our forecast. When I said I'll find somewhere to do my oil change, he finally offered to give me a discount at his work.

How nice. Only took a week of me being gone to make him want to help me again.

He continued being short with me until the oil change Sunday.

That's also the first time in over a week he kissed me.

Looking back, I wonder if he did that to keep up appearances. He wrote up my oil change and did the work. His boss made a comment about how Stephen set it up and did the work and how I should leave a review about the cute technician who did my oil change. I joked right back about how he is handsome and that I will most definitely be leaving a review. Stephen kissed me goodbye and I left the review.

He immediately began texting me about how work was going. I didn't ask but that's okay. It felt like things were returning to normal finally.

That night he had me go to Subway, in the rain, by myself. He was nice enough to give me his card to pay for the food. When I asked for his help carrying the food and drinks in, he said he didn't understand why I couldn't do it myself. It's because I didn't trust myself.

I learned I can't trust anyone but myself.

Monday rolled around and I told him we need to mop, he told me to prepare the mop bucket and to sweep; that he would do the rest. I bought stuff from Target, he came home to make dinner. I left for therapy. He was nice enough to send me some money for the Target run.

Tuesday, the 22nd. He texts me at 6am saying his back went out. I told him I will run over to give him some pain killers between my physical therapy and work. I ended up going to work even later because I went out of my way to give him the pills. I can't help but wonder if, at that time, had the roles were reversed if he would have done the same for me.

The next day, the dog pooped in his cage. I had to clean it, but with the pinched nerve in my neck and my bad wrist, it was not an easy task. He was kind enough to seem to have empathy for me. Then, I asked him about our roommate. Our roommate posted on IG, a post reading "Can't wait to get out of this fucking place. My mental can't take it much longer before I fucking explode on someone." Stephen had liked the post, then said it must've been an accident. I told him I was afraid he would leave us and Stephen seemed so sure he wouldn't.

I wonder if it was because they were planning on leaving me.