Page 31 of Tell Me You Love Me Again

Gabe

I was at a loss for words, watching Chiara unravel in front of me the way that she did. I was expecting her to get her full memory back and even react a certain way, but I wasn’t expecting this. After I pulled over, she hopped out before I could even stop good and took off down the street. I wasn’t having that, so I jumped out and took long, deliberate strides until I caught up with her, catching her by the arm.

“Chiara, slow down and talk to me,” I pleaded. She looked at my hand on her arm and snatched away before she stalked off again.

“Chiara! Stop acting like a brat and come and talk to me!” This was our problem. She always wanted shit her way and just fuck how I felt. Damn that shit. She was going to talk to me and get all this shit off of her chest. That’s the only way we’ll be able to get past this.

“Oh, you want to pay me some attention now?” She sassed. “That’s all I ever wanted you to do was pay me some attentionand act like my fuckin’ husband and all you’re concerned about is fuckin’ working!” she yelled. I had to pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from choking the shit out of my wife in the middle of this crowded ass street. She had already garnered unwanted attention, so I didn’t need the extra.

“Chi, get back in the car so we can talk about this. I’m not doing this out here like this.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I ordered an Uber and it’ll take me to get my things and I’m going back home. You can continue this fake ass trip by yourself.” I had e-fuckin-nough.

“Get the fuck in the car like I asked you to so we can talk about this shit like adults. You always want to throw a fuckin’ tantrum, but that shit stops now. Get. In. The. Car. Now.” I was over her spoiled ass. Snatching from me, she stomped to the car and slammed the door. When I got back inside, she had her arms folded across her chest and her gaze was fixated on the scenery that displayed through the tinted windows.

I didn’t even bother to spark up the conversation when we initially pulled off. I needed to get my mind right. I was wrecking my brain to see where I went wrong. I mean, I did work a lot, but I did that shit for us. For our future. Everything Chi asked me for, I tried my damnest to get it for her with no questions. I’m a man of very few words, so I let my actions speak for me. I guess that’s where I fucked up at because my own fuckin’ wife doesn’t realize that shit about me.

Once we were back at the hotel, I didn’t give her time to do anything. She was about to hear my fuckin’ mouth.

“Chi, wassup? Why, all of a sudden, you’re trying to make me out to be this horrible ass nigga when all I do is bend over backwards for you. How the fuck did we get here?”

Silence.

“Now is the time to speak up. You put on that damn dramatic ass show in the middle of the street, but now you can’t say shit?”I hated talking to my wife like this, but right now, she wasn’t giving me a choice.

“I should be your top priority, Gabe, and I haven’t been feeling like that. You’re always gone and I’m home alone. When I suggest we do things, you always shut me down. Not to mention, I don’t know if you’re being faithful because lately you’ve been moving funny without reason.” I listened to her and tried to sympathize with her, but I couldn’t.

“So, you’re not my top priority, Chiara? I don’t put you before every-fuckin-thing? I’d admit that my presence has been lack luster but for you to think that I’m up to some bogus ass shit pissed me the fuck off. I’ve always been about you since the day that I met you. You’re sitting here complaining about me not putting you first and always on the road but damn, can I get the credit for the amount of effort that I put in for you not to miss my absence? So, I guess the constant phone calls don’t matter? The unexpected flowers just because I want to see that beautiful ass smile on your face. The spontaneous gifts that I give just to show my love and appreciation to you. Even when I’m gone for extended periods of time. I make sure that the first and only thing on my plate when I get home is you,” I pointed at her. “but all you’re concerned about is what I ain’t doing.” I was over this. I tried. I swear I did.

“Gifts don’t compensate for me spending time with my husband,” she countered.

“Well, stop accepting them.” Her eyes bucked at my statement but fuck that.

“My father was right about you. You’re selfish and don’t know how to be a husband. I should’ve been putting me first a long time ago,” she ranted.

“Fuck yo’ damn daddy. That nigga ain’t right about shit. He’s just mad that you were finally from under his thumb and had a nigga that was really about you. Let’s not forget the fact thatI’m a street nigga that wasn’t good enough for his baby girl, so disrespectfully fuck that nigga.” I walked off from her before I did or said some shit that I couldn’t take back. She’d gotten me out of character enough. This was supposed to be a trip for us to reconnect and here we were, seconds away from destruction.

How did we get here?

That was the question that needed answers. Picking up my phone, I sent a text to Chiquita and then Gary. I needed to make sure everything was in place because it looked like I had to present her gift to her early. Shaking my head, I had to laugh at myself because here we were in the middle of an argument, and I was still concerned about her well-being. After I sent the texts, I went online and booked us a flight for in the morning. The mood and vibe were off, so I didn’t see the need to stay.

“You can go ahead and pack up. I booked a flight and we’re leaving in the morning. I don’t see the need to stay the remaining days when I’m such a fucked up nigga.” I didn’t even give her time to say shit. I got my room key and went downstairs to the bar. I needed a drink and to be alone with my thoughts. Giving up on my marriage wasn’t an option, but Chiara was making the shit harder and harder to deal with.

As I sat at the bar, drowning my feelings in bourbon, I felt somewhat compelled to still make Chiara happy. That was my sole purpose in life. To make my wife happy and be the best husband that I could be for her. Since the house is done, I should be able to fall back from work more. It wasn’t like I really needed to be there, anyway. I just didn’t like sitting around not doing nothing. Making money has always driven me, but it’s also threatening my marriage. By no means was I going to go broke making Chiara happy, but I would make it to where she didn’t feel neglected. That shit fucked me up, knowing that our lack of communication pushed her to want to leave a nigga. After downing my second drink, I went back upstairs to our room andChiara was already in the bed. I could tell she wasn’t sleeping, but I’d let her have it. I needed to shower and make sure I had all my things packed for when we left in the morning. After my shower, I slipped on my boxers and went to lie down. I felt Chiara shift, and my gaze went to her back that was facing me. Not being able to take it, I pulled her body into mine so that her back was pressed against my chest.

“We’re going to be fine, Snook. I promise,” was all I said as I pressed a kiss against her temple and dosed off shortly after.

***

The next morning was quiet and tense. Chiara and I got dressed and rode to the airport in silence. It was like we were complete strangers…again. She was giving me the coldest shoulder, and I had to remember that her feelings were just as valid as mine, even though her reasoning was absurd. While she took a nap on our flight, I made a few last-minute arrangements. When we landed, I picked up my truck from the airport parking garage and headed to our destination. She was still giving me the silent treatment, but I just dealt with it. I noticed her look around when she noticed we weren’t headed home.

“Where are we going? I don’t want to do anything but go home, Gabe,” she voiced.

“Just chill,” was all I said. I didn’t want to say too much to tip her off or make shit worse.

Since there was an accident on the highway, it took a little longer to get to the house, but I still managed to make it in record time. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed her position change.

“Whose house is this?” she asked. I declined to respond. Getting out, I rounded the truck and proceeded to open the door for her.

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