Split [ONC 2024]

2. Blood

The morning sun caresses my face, and I open my eyes with a smile. I can't remember the last time I had such peaceful, restful sleep.

After my near brush with death the other night, it was easy to let go of all my petty problems and appreciate that I was alive. So I came home, prepared dinner for Steve, left it on the kitchen table for him, then headed off to bed, letting him continue his game. Who cares that he was playing video games for hours? Maybe he had a rough day and needed to unwind, too.

As I glance at his empty side of the bed, I have to admit that it's a little odd that he's up before me. I check the time, but it's seven thirty, my usual wake-up time. He would normally be snoring right now.

With a shrug, I go do my morning business in the bathroom. The water heater works again, so I can enjoy a hot shower. Then I do my skin care routine, get dressed for work, and head down the stairs.

"Steve?" I call.

There's a sound like dropping dishes coming from the kitchen. With a frown, I stop in the doorway. My husband is on his knees, picking up shards from the floor, his face lowered and half hidden by his brown locks. The tiny white ceramic triangles are bathed in what looks like last night's casserole. I frown in confusion. Didn't he eat last night?

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing happened, Eva," he says, but his voice is shaking. "I'm cleaning this up."

"Why didn't you eat last night? Did you even sleep?"

He doesn't answer and avoids my eyes as he keeps picking up the pieces. He's very bad at it, plunging his hands in the middle of the mess instead of using a kitchen towel. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to cut his finger on a shard.

"Here, let me help." I want to kneel next to him, but my grey pencil skirt makes it difficult.

"No, no, I've got this." He scoots away from me as if I'm about to hit him.

I blink, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. Why is he avoiding me? And when did this happen? I can tell that the little crash I heard was him dropping some shards, not the plate outright breaking. Which means that by the time I came down, it was already shattered. Did he drop it while I was in the shower? That would explain why I didn't hear it.

"Look, I don't care that you dropped a plate. Those things are replaceable."

This time, he does look at me, but it's as if I'm insane. I know this would usually be the point when I would get annoyed and start yelling at him, but I'm merely curious this time.

"You should go to work. Don't want you to be late again because of me."

He still sounds rattled, but even so, I choose to grin at him.

"Why, honey, is that an apology for yesterday?"

He flinched and focused on the mess again. "Yes. Another apology."

I frown. "What do you mean, another?"

This time, he doesn't just flinch, but startles altogether, his broad shoulders twitching. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Work? Maybe?"

He's acting so odd. "Steve, you're scaring me a little."

"I'm scaring you?"

"Well, yes. What got into you?"

The question seems to push him into a form of reverie because he doesn't answer, just glances off into the distance as if trying to piece something together. It's obviously not the broken dishes in front of him. But he's right about one thing. I don't want to be late again.