23. Cedrick
“Ithought you might appreciate some fresh air,” I call from the window to Ellie, lying on our bed.
I almost laugh at seeing such an unbecoming scowl come over such a beautiful face. I don’t know how she can get pissed off at the act of opening a window, though.
After the fight yesterday, though, I’m not sure I know what to expect from her at all anymore. It came out of nowhere.
I just want to start over and talk about it, but her demeanor has gotten more and more icy and distant.
She picks up a pillow and hugs it to her chest. “Thanks,” she mutters while looking away, avoiding eye contact.
“I didn”t quite get that,” I say, approaching the bed.
“I’m cold.” Still no eye contact.
She throws the pillow off, gets up from the bed, and disappears into the bathroom with a loud bang of the door to mark her exit.
“Was it something I said?” I ask the empty room, still a little spooked.
I mean, we exchanged words yesterday, but that doesn”t mean the same fight should continue to escalate even today. I walk up to the bathroom door and rap my fingers against it.
“Ellie?”
The toilet flushes on the other side, but she says nothing.
I lean my forehead against the wood. “I meant no harm. I shouldn”t have assumed. I know you must be tired.”
My jaw clenches when I hear the tap run but there’s still no response. Maybe she was right yesterday. Maybe this was a mistake. But it’s too late to do anything now. Maybe it’s good that it’s only a year if this is her attitude.
Twenty minutes later, the door opens and an impassive face has replaced the scowl. She looks everywhere but at me. She crawls back onto her side of the bed and gives me her back.
I drag the covers up and wrap them around her shoulders, but she promptly kicks them off.
“Hey.” I palm her shoulder. “You said you were cold earlier.”
She shrugs me off without turning around. “I didn”t ask to be covered. I just asked for some peace. Can I have that, please?”
It might as well be a snarl.
I move back a little. “See, that”s the thing. Do we have to drag last night’s argument to today? Can we move on? Or find common ground?”
“Not right now.”
It”s like a slap in the face. “Fine. But we need to discuss this later. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”
She pulls the covers onto herself, and I head to the kitchen, shaking my head.
This is not the Ellie I know.
After a cup of coffee, I decide to make her favorite meal. Well, her favorite breakfast. Cinnamon crepes.
The large kitchen is devoid of staff this morning, so I can work alone, uninterrupted.
“Mmm, so good,” I say while plating my final product. “If this medicine thing doesn’t work out…”
I garnish it with apple slices and take it to her on a tray. “If my words can”t do the trick, maybe this will.”
She sits up and looks at me blankly. “What”s that?”
“Cinnamon crepes. Also called breakfast in bed.”
I balance the tray against my hip and leave it on my side of the bed. She doesn”t protest but doesn”t look as pleased as I would hope. The smile I was anticipating never materializes.
She reaches down with the fork to grab a bite, and immediately, she drops it down, sprinting straight for the bathroom instead.
She closes the door, and I can hear the sound of her retching. Not a great sign.
“Sorry. I’m sure it’s delicious… but the smell…”
I try not to react and help her back to bed, expecting her to slap my hand away based on everything else.
She settles in, looks at the food, and immediately gags.
“It must be the cinnamon,” she says. One hand clutches her stomach, and the other covers her mouth. “I can”t. It”s everywhere. I”m going to a guest bedroom.”
“You want any help…?”
I can tell by the look that the answer is no, and I give her back the same scowl she gives me. I wait for her to leave, then look for a member of staff who can clean up.
That was not how that was supposed to go. I take a walk in the garden to clear my head, and an answer literally stands in front of my face.
I gather the flowers that smell sweetest, and least offensive more importantly, and arrange them in a vase for her. I even add a few pieces of ribbon, reminding myself of my mother. She always had fresh flowers.
I walk the wing of the home with guest rooms. I see one closed door, and I know Ellie is behind it. I knock loudly, then let myself in before she answers. At this point, if everything I do pisses her off, I’m going to just approach things the way I want to.
If I waited for her to open it, I’d be inconsiderate. If I opened it myself, I’d be intrusive. Too bad.
She”s seated at a dressing table with a phone in her hand. Her weary eyes drop from my face to the hand-picked flowers I”ve arranged in a vase.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“Good. I brought you some flowers. Thought it might lift your spirits a little.” I hold out the vase.
“You can put them on the bedside table.” She points, then returns to her phone.
“Anything else, Your Majesty? For someone who doesn’t like royal ostentation…”
I leave before she can say something else. I’m not in the mood. Her grouchiness is contagious.
I give Ishmael a call. “Dude, what should I do? It’s like Jekyll and Hyde here.”
“Maybe hide?”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.” He chuckles. “What’s going on?”
“My guess? Pregnancy hormones. But basically, I’m Satan. That’s what it feels like.”
“Hmm. I don’t envy you.”
“Thanks. But what should I do?”
“Hmm.” He stops to think. “I mean, my wife abandoned me when she was pregnant, so unfortunately, this isn’t something I have experience with.”
“No, believe me, you’re fortunate.”
“But my advice would be to give her time. And space. Everything’s new for her, and she’s not used to being in this… situation.”
“But what if she thinks I’m avoiding her? Or resentful?”
“Do what you can to support her, but don’t make it worse. Not that I’m perfect. We’re all flying blind here.”
I sigh. “That does make me feel better, at least.”
Throughout the day, I struggle with keeping my distance. It”s such a different dynamic from what we’ve had the last few weeks.
Later that evening I catch her in the kitchen going through cupboards and the refrigerator to try to cobble together a meal.
“Hey there,” I say cautiously. “The cinnamon removal has been successful. Not a trace in the bedroom.”
She doesn’t look at me. “I don’t want to risk it though. I think the guest bedroom is better.”
She pulls a box of crackers from a drawer and pours herself a glass of water.
“Sure. We can sleep in the guest room.”
She shakes her head. “I”d rather be alone tonight, if that”s okay.”
She starts to walk out with her box hugged to her chest, holding her water.
“Wait,” I say, and she turns around.
“Not tonight, Cedrick. I”m undernourished and overwhelmed. The last thing I need is another fight.” She says this without even facing me. Then she’s gone.
At least I’m not confused anymore about what we are. Right now, she’s barely tolerating me.
If we have a chance at all, I need to try to fix things. But I have no idea what the right thing is to do, and even less of an idea of what I”m fighting for. I”m not even sure what’s really bothering her, but I know she’ll just bite my head off if I try to find out.
We’ll see. Tomorrow is another day. And judging from this week, it’ll probably be a bad one.