Page 73 of Dearly Unbeloved
Rose
Promotion secured!!!!!
I should congratulate her. Send back something, anything, but I’m all out of faux-happy.
A bubble pops up, indicating Rose is typing, and a second later, another message comes through.
Can we talk tonight? Not about the job. It’s important. I just really need to talk to you.
It’s too soon. We were supposed to have a week or two, even a couple more days. But we don’t. I’m out of time.
Tears prick my eyes, but I breathe through them. I don’t get to cry about this.
I grab my stuff and leave the meeting room, heading out in search of Jazz to let her know I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. By my calculations, Rose will be home from work in five hours, which gives me approximately four hours and fifty minutes to break my own heart.
35
ROSE
Ipace outside the apartment door for five whole minutes when I get home. Sierra never texted me back. Granted, it’s not unusual for her to type a message out and forget to hit send, but she usually realizes when she doesn’t get a reply. Silence isn’t Sierra’s thing, and now I have no idea what I’m walking into.
What a day.
Lisa pulled me into her office first thing, earlier than I expected. Kayleigh’s job, she explained, was going to Imogen, but that’s only because she had a different role in mind for me. The company is expanding, converting the fifth-floor offices into a new research lab, and Lisa put me forward for floor manager. I feel wholly unqualified, but she gushed about my drive and organization, and her boss’s boss was impressed by my work, so I got the job. I’ll be shadowing Lisa for the next month or so before the new research lab opens.
The first thing I did when I left her office was run to the bathroom and lock myself in to text Sierra. Then I stared atmyself in the mirror, taking in the glow, the smile that didn’t exist until Sierra and I grew closer, and asked myself what the hell I’m doing letting her go without a fight.
Hence my second text. I’m going to tell her how I feel, and I’m going to hope that she doesn’t laugh in my face. What we have is far from traditional, and I’m not asking her to stay married to me if that’s not what she wants. I’d just like to try and see what’s here between us. Because there’s something there, and Sierra is too observant not to have noticed it.
It all seemed a lot less scary locked in a bathroom on the other side of the city, though.
I shake out my body and inhale a deep breath of the biting December air, then slide my key into the lock. I’m careful not to jostle the bouquet in my hand too much. God forbid the first time I give someone real flowers, they’re all fucked up because I’m too nervous to stand still. I got her purple roses—her favorite flower, and her favorite color—and had the florist wrap them up in brown paper and twine, because Sierra has a picture of her mom holding a bunch of flowers from her dad wrapped like that. It’s out of character for me, but I figured I owe my wife a little romance if I’m asking her to take a chance and date me.
Sierra isn’t in the living room, so I call her name as I lock the door behind me. There’s no answer, but I know she’s home because her slippers aren’t by the door. She’s gotten so much better at putting her shit away that there are no shoes littering the entryway. I’m not the only one who’s changed for the better here. She has to see that.
I stop by the bunnies on my way through the livingroom, but they’re too busy eating to pay attention to me. Sierra must have fed them early.
She’s not in the bathroom, and her bedroom door is closed, so I knock before calling her name again. Nothing.
“Sierra?” I try again. “Are you okay?” Worry spreads through me. What if she’s sick or hurt? “I’m coming in,” I warn, before nudging the door open and stopping in my tracks.
Sierra’s not in her room. And not much else is, either. The bed frame and mattress, the dresser, the nightstand, everything that was here when we moved in. All traces of Sierra are gone.
Except… My eyes land on the brown folder on the bed, and the flowers fall from my hand.
It’s like someone else is moving my body, pushing me toward the bed until I’m staring directly down at the folder and the neon pink sticky note on top.
Congrats on the promotion.
I’ve signed everything on my side. You just need to sign your parts and drop them off. - S
That’s it? Not even a goodbye?
I sink to the floor, legs shaking. I hug my knees to my chest, staring up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. How could I be so hopeful, so sure she’d seen what I’ve seen between us, just five minutes ago?
How the hell could Ihave been so naïve?
I thought the opposite of my foggy spells would be pure joy. I was wrong. Where they feel like a heavy cloud pressing on top of me, weighing me down, life after Sierra feels… hollow. Like my internal organs are doing the bare minimum, taking up as little space as possible inside me, because what’s the point in functioning, anyway?
