Page 8 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
I sat up, looking around the space. I’d furnished this room a few years ago. The bedding was muted blue and seemed dull now. The walls were dove gray with white trim. The furniture was a matching solid wood set painted gray. I’d loved it when I had made this room up. Now it just felt sterile—almost like a hospital room.
I shook my head. I needed to redecorate. I hate it now. Cold and impersonal. It was like a metaphor for what had become of my marriage.
I showered, dressed, put my face on. I felt almost restless instead of rested, but at least I looked passable. It would have to do.
When I went downstairs, Caden was already at the kitchen table. Laptop open, coffee in hand. Staring at the screen. He looked completely unfazed, like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t torn each other apart the night before.
He looked up. "Hey. You sleep okay?"
I didn’t answer. I just looked at him and turned, walked to the coffeepot, and poured a cup.
There was a beat of silence before he tried again. "You working from the office today?"
"Yes."
"You need anything this morning?"
Yeah—for you not to have fucked up yesterday. But I held back. I didn’t say it—he can thank me later. Instead, I just remained silent.
He leaned back in his chair. Clearly, my silence said enough since he didn’t follow his question up.
The Dior purse was gone. Macy had obviously taken it with her when she left for Jessica’s last night. I’m guessing she will probably never let it out of her sight. I wouldn’t if it were mine—wait, it actually is mine. The gut punch I felt just thinking about it caught me off guard. I felt tears spring to my eyes. It’s not about the purse, Felicity. It’s not about the purse. I exhaled—okay… it’s a little about the purse.
I took a sip of my coffee and turned to him. "You still taking Macy to that school thing this weekend?" I asked.
"Yeah. The ice cream social."
I nodded. "Good."
Another stretch of silence. I waited for him to catch on. Needless to say, he didn't.
I stared at him, waiting for the words that should have tumbled out of his mouth: "No, Felicity, I’m so sorry I completely fucked up already, and I know how much I need to make it up to you.So, I called Jess to take her because it's your DAMN BIRTHDAY and I'd rather DIE than drag you to a sticky-fingered kids’ ice cream social when you should be wearing something devastating in a restaurant where the wine costs more than my first car." But did he say that? Nope.
The silence stretched between us like a rubber band about to snap. And his face remained blank. Oblivious. Fucking clueless.
I put my mug down and reached for a granola bar from the cabinet. Putting the bar in my purse, I stared at it.Fuck it—I reached back into the cabinet and grabbed the whole box. I looked him dead in the eye as I dumped all twelve bars into my bag. No idea why. I just didn’t feel like sharing, and I wanted him to know. I dropped the empty box on the counter, still looking him in the eyes.Take that!Fuck, I feel petty. But. I. Don’t. Care.
"You’re not going to talk to me?" he asked.
"I am talking."
"Felicity—come on."
"What do you want me to say, Caden?" I looked at him. "That everything’s fine? Say something to make this easier on you? My voice cracked slightly on the last word, betraying the exhaustion that had settled deep in my bones. I think I’ve done that enough."
I leaned against the counter and continued, "Cade, you screwed up. And I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It’s not just a purse and I’m not just being dramatic. That’s it. Full stop."
He shook his head. "That’s not what I meant."
"It’s what you said—just last night, in fact."
Silence.
I put my mug in the sink, hand lingering on the ceramic. "Look. I have meetings all day." I turned halfway toward the door, then back to him. "I'll be home for dinner." I paused, swallowing hard. "Or I won't. I don't know." My voice softened despite myself. "I'll let you know." I reached for my keys, gripping them until the metal bit into my palm. "Or maybe not."
I walked toward the door.
"I said I’m sorry," he added.
