Chapter 14 #2
The next day, I wake up to Arthur drawing me a bubble bath.
He apologizes for his behavior and says work has been getting to him.
He says he should have left as soon as I said something, and he’s sorry for being upset.
He said he has a patient–Larry–that reminds him of his dad, who’s fighting congenital heart failure, which is also how his dad died.
Immediately, I understand the stress he must be under, and shame drops over me like a blanket.
I’ve been too hard on him.
Peace falls over the household again. But I have decided to stop drinking. I don’t like what it does to me. The person it makes me become.
Arthur and I haven’t had sex for a month.
Arthur is too tired and too stressed, and I don’t blame him.
I can meet my own needs. I end up watching a lot of porn and find myself caught up in the moment between two people when one submits to the other.
Sometimes it’s the moment before they do anything, sometimes it’s when they’re kissing and fighting for dominance, sometimes it’s the moment when they end up on the bottom, and sometimes it's right before they come. But in the good videos, there’s always that moment.
It’s like a quiet explosion–pressure, pressure, then fireworks.
And sometimes those fireworks are just the relaxation offered, that tiny moment where one lets the other take care of them.
Fuck, it gets me so hard, and I wonder if Arthur would find relief in letting go of control like that. He’s always in control, and I feel like he’d feel so much better letting me take care of him. Because I would.
But when I think about bringing it up, my heart races too fast. What if he mocks me? Says he doesn’t want it? Doesn’t want that moment with me?
So when Arthur suggests we get matching tattoos, my heart swells to life again. He does care! He does want that intimacy. We get matching A and M on our hips, and for a moment, everything feels perfect again.
Then, Arthur loses Larry to a heart attack.
He comes home drunk that night, sobbing into my arms. He opens up about his dad for the first time, saying he was abusive. That night, Arthur looks up into my eyes with his glassy, tear-stained ones and says his biggest fear is becoming his dad.
I smooth his hair down and reassure him that isn’t happening. Then I make him his favorite blooming onion and some apple fritters.
I go to bed that night with a selfish sense of relief. He’s finally opened up. Things can get better.
Only, the next day, Arthur leaves without giving me a kiss and hardly texts me.
Which makes me want to curl in on myself, but I don’t.
I try to help by cleaning up around the house more, making sure there isn’t as much for him to do, writing him little notes in his lunch, and supporting him when he goes out to the bar on Wednesdays with his work buddies.
But after a while, I get lonely. When I try to talk about it, Arthur explodes.
He talks about how busy he’s been at work and how stressed he is financially.
I offer to pay more of the bills, to which he breaks down crying, saying he doesn’t want me to have to support us.
I’m more than happy to support us however I can.
I just want him to be happy. So I take over everything except the water and trash, which Arthur insists he can pay for.
Then comes the first letter. The late bill for the water and trash.
I stare at it for a minute. I don’t make a ton now that I’ve graduated; essentially all of my paycheck is going toward bills.
Arthur makes way more than I do, although I know he’s been trying to pay off his student debt.
But debt comes second to bills; even Arthur knows that.
And of course, drinking comes last after all of this.
So, as I stare at it, my heart races and my face gets hot.
I’m waiting for Arthur when he comes back from the bar. I’m jittery, and I considered drinking a few times, but I want to have a clear head for this. I care about our relationship, and I want to save it because I love Arthur, and I’m willing to do anything I need to fight for us.
When I hear the keys jangling on the other side of the apartment door, I straighten, heart pounding.
Arthur comes in, staring down at his phone, red-faced and laughing. When he looks up at me, he makes a kissy face with his mouth. “Hey, my love. Come here and get some lovin’.”
The mood is so off that I stiffen. He’s feeling…flirty?
It takes Arthur a second to register, then his face falls. “C’mon, babe, can we not fight tonight?”
“I’m not trying to fight.” I slide the bill across the counter, then lift my face in a small smile to try to save the mood he came in with.
Arthur barely glances at it, then puts his stuff down. Then he goes to the fridge and guzzles juice straight from the container for so long it feels like he’s ignoring me.
I feel my hackles rise, but I take a deep breath. “We’re overdue on our water bill.”
Arthur lets out a loud belch, then turns to face the counter. He looks down at the bill. “Well, would you look at that?” He scratches his torso, then moves to the living room.
For a second, I’m stunned. He’s just going to shrug it off like that?
“This is the one thing you said you’d take care of.”
“Babeeeee,” he drags out in a whiny voice. “Please, I’m fucking tired. I have work in the morning. Can we just,” he turns to face me and humps the air, “fuck and go to bed tonight?”
Something cold and lonely stabs me in the chest. He’s ignoring me. Immediately after the cold, warmth rushes in. He wants to fuck.
I take one step toward Arthur, then the bill catches my eye.
He just shrugged me off.
I pause, the warm feeling warring with the hurt that he let the bill go unpaid. “Babe,” I say slowly. “Of course I want to fuck...”
“Buuut? C’mon, don’t be such a downer,” he whines.
The whine grates on my ears and blows the warmth away like a strong wind. Is he whining? Like a child?
“This is the one thing you said you’d do.”
Arthur staggers against the couch for a second, and then he frowns. “Me?”
“Yes! You!” Is he serious right now? I’m so confused, warring between deep anger and also the desire to shrug it all off cause he’s finally wanting to be close.
Arthur’s expression turns dark a split second before he sneers, “You know what’s fucking bullshit? I work all goddamn day fucking saving people.” His face gets progressively redder, and then he grabs the couch cushion and hurls it across the room.
For a second, I stand there in shock.
“And all I get when I come home is the ways I’m not fucking good enough!” Another couch cushion flies close to the kitchen island, and my heart starts racing. That was close to me. But then I immediately shrug it off. He’s just blowing off steam.
“Nag, nag, nag, fucking nag.” Arthur rips the last cushion, and he flings it. I realize too late that it’s flying at me. I duck, but not before it hits me with a solid thwap into my torso that makes me stagger back a step.
Arthur continues to look for pillows to throw, and he drags the cushion seats up.
I struggle to catch my breath, everything feeling like it’s moving in slow motion.
Arthur glances up, sees me, and for a second, all I see is hatred in his eyes–all I see is Dad.
Arthur’s expression melts as he sees the cushion on the floor next to me.
“Babe.” He rushes over, and I take a step back.
Arthur crowds into my space. “Oh fuck, babe, I’m so sorry.”
I shove him away, cheeks on fire. All kinds of conflicting emotions are running through me right now: embarrassment, shock, and disbelief. He threw something at me?
Arthur continues to apologize, showering kisses down on my head that I try to step away from. The smell of alcohol on him is overpowering, and I just need a break. I just need space to sort this out.
“Just…ugh, just go to bed.” We can’t have this conversation now, and I need to figure out my thoughts.
Arthur lets out a sob. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, babe.
I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.
I don’t know what came over me.” He traps me in a hug, holding me to his body in a crushing grip.
I know better than to fight. If I just stand here, he’ll get tired eventually and move on.
So I stay, frozen, wondering what the hell went wrong in our relationship to get us here.
The pillows turn into plates, which turn into the TV remote. The TV remote is always within arm’s reach of Arthur, and the edges start turning white from the paint on the walls until it stops getting white because it starts hitting something softer.
Me.
“I thought you said we were soulmates.” Arthur stares at something on the counter, completely still.
Very still.
I slow, four bags of groceries hanging from my hands. Arthur won’t look at me, so he has to be mad. But about what I’m not sure.
I stop shy of the counter, putting on a soft voice. “Uh, we are.”
I look to see if my response has loosened his shoulders.
Nothing.
Blood races in my ears. What the hell is wrong? I rattle through everything. Is there a bill unpaid? Did I forget an anniversary?
“Is…everything okay?” I ask, voice hesitant. If I pretend like nothing’s wrong, he’ll get pissed, but if I act too nervous, he’ll think I did something. Which I don’t think I did.
Arthur’s hands ball into fists, and my gaze locks in on them. I saw Dad do that a few times before he really beat our asses.
“Jared? Really?” Arthur turns, showing me papers.
On them, it looks like…screenshots of my conversation with him?
Jared asked me last week if I wanted to go out for pizza with him and his roommates.
I declined because Arthur was gonna be home from work early that day, and I wanted to spend time with him.
Then I glance down further, remembering with dread what Jared said.
Jared: I mean, you could just come. Arthur doesn’t like pizza anyway.