15. Masaccio
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Masaccio
L eora rushes past my bedroom door, towards the stairs, carrying her handbag. She is leaving again. She’s hardly ever home lately.
I stand up and rush to follow her.
Standing at the top of the stairs I talk because I need to grab her attention before she’s out the door and gone for the entire day again.
“Where are you off to?” I call out as she steps off the stairway.
She doesn’t turn to face me.
“Just out for a bit.” Her voice is bland and void of emotion.
“You’re hardly around anymore.”
I walk down the stairs towards her, and she is forced to turn and face me.
I stand close, almost pushing her up against curved railing of the staircase.
She looks annoyed by my comment as I stare down at her. She won’t make eye contact.
This is not like the Leora I was getting used to.
That Leora was talkative and playful. She used to try to reach out towards me sometimes or steal a hug in the kitchen while I was making coffee.
For the past week Leora has been leaving without saying goodbye and staying out for the entire day - I don’t even know what she’s been up to because she doesn’t even speak to me when she is home.
I’ve been eating dinner alone because she eats in her room and the only evidence, I have of how she’s staying busy is an empty bookshop packet or a takeaway coffee mug - it’s kind of ridiculous that I live with her but - it doesn’t seem like I live with anyone.
She takes a step away from me and I feel I need to make more conversation otherwise she will just leave. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“I’m not sure.” She shrugs, nonchalant, disinterested. Then she turns away from me, waves her hand in the air and shouts. “Bye.”
“Oh - bye.” I stammer, following her to the door.
I don’t even know where she’s going or when she will be back.
Shouldn’t I know where my wife is going?
I watch her as she climbs into her car, not turning to look at me again, not even when she pulls out of the long driveway and turn out onto the street.
I sigh.
I don’t know why I’ve been feeling so bland these last few days.
The house has been so quiet - it feels empty.
Leora has created quite a distance between us. I’ve noticed. Of course, I’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to notice.
The first day it was pleasant. Peaceful. I thought she was just having a quiet day. But then it happened again the next day, and I was confused. I tried to talk to her while we were both making coffee that morning - but she was off.
I tried to talk to her one evening after she was out all day, and she gave me one worded answers before carrying her dinner up to her room and eating behind a closed door.
Her bedroom door is always closed now.
I eat alone.
I have coffee alone.
It feels like I live alone.
And - I don’t like it.
So, now it’s been a week. And I hate to admit it - but I miss how annoying she was.
I miss the sound of her laughter. I feel like I should have paid more attention to what she was saying when she was telling me stories.
I miss her. It’s so weird to admit that.
And it’s annoying me.
I think I know what to do though.
Just to get her to stop avoiding me so much and spend a tiny bit of time with me. I’ll pull her own trick on her. A candlelight dinner.
She’s made it twice for me so it’s obviously something she enjoys.
I’ll do the same for her.
Picking up the phone I message the chef who should arrive later today.
Me: Dimitri, I need you to make something special for tonight. Three courses. Main dish must be lobster. I want the dining room to look like a five-star restaurant.
Dimitri: yes, sir. I’ll stop at the market on my way to you and pick up fresh ingredients. You will be very impressed with your dinner. I assure you. How many guests?
Me: It is a dinner for my wife and me. Dinner at eight.
I might not be as good at cooking as she is - but I can still make this great.
Leora arrives home just before eight and I make sure I am waiting at the door to open it for her.
“What?” she jumps as I pull it open as she reaches for the handle on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” She asks, a little out of breath from her fright.
“Welcome home. I’ve had a special dinner prepared for us. I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”
She bites her lower lip. I love it when she does that.
“Um - I haven’t. But I’m tired.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t keep you up late. You have to eat something.”
I take her shopping bags from her and set them aside, hang her coat on the hook near the door and lead her through to the dining room with my hand resting on her lower back. Sparks flying from my fingertips against her skin.
A soft gasp escapes her lips when she sees the candles and the setting. Leora hesitates in the doorway of the dining room. “What is this, Mas?” She asks.
“It’s dinner. A small thank you for the dinners you made me.” I gently push her into the room and pull out a chair for her. She sits down and I take a seat next to her.
Our legs are touching beneath the table and it’s reminding my body what it was like to be with her. How she felt wrapped in my arms.
“It’s just that…” Her words trail off as the chef carries the starter in and plates it for us.
Muscles in white wine and garlic sauce and oysters in vodka and chili.
It looks incredible.
“Thank you.” Leora smiles at Dimitri.
The starter is amazing, but Leora is hardly talking at all.
I can see I am going to have to encourage her to open up and chat. Strange, as every other dinner we’ve had she has talked easily and freely.
“Have you been enjoying your days wherever you end up going?”
She looks up from her plate, eyeing me.
“I’m not up to anything. If that’s what you are asking. I just go walk around the garden, or the book shop. Sometimes the mall.”
“Oh - no - that’s not what I meant.” I clear my throat. I had not intended for it to come across as an interrogation. “No, I just wanted to know if you have been enjoying your time? Um—you haven’t been home much—”
“I know.” She says rather coldly.
Dimitri arrives with our main course. The lobster - done in garlic butter with lemon slices.
She smiles at Dimitri again. She hasn’t smiled at me since the last dinner she made me. It was over a week ago.
She looks down at her plate. Not saying a word, she enjoys her lobster. But she doesn’t look happy at all. My heart pulls tight in my chest. I don’t like this version of her. I want the real Leora back. I don’t understand what made her so cold and distant.
“Leora?”
She looks up at me, waiting without saying a word. Her bright eyes look sharp and intense, but not welcoming. They look hostile. I wish I could read her mind. It would make life so much easier for me. I take a deep breath.
“Leora - what’s wrong?” I ask.
She tilts her head to the side. Her brows knotted. “Nothing is wrong.” Her answer is too clipped. To short.
Her eyes look empty. The usual sparkle is no longer there. She almost looks like a hollow version of herself.
“Something is wrong.” I say more forcefully. She can’t just deny it like that. “You don’t speak to me. You are never home. You don’t eat with me—”
She drops her fork and glares at me.