Two
Susanna
He came home. He didn't wake me.
I climb the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. Our bedroom door is closed. When I open it, Teller is sprawled across the bed, still in his clothes, smelling like whiskey and something else—perfume that isn't mine.
My stomach clenches.
"Teller?" I whisper.
He doesn't stir.
I change into my pajamas in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. When did I become this person? This woman who waits up for her husband, who feels grateful when he finally comes home, who's too afraid to ask the questions burning in her chest?
We've been married three years. Three years that were supposed to be the honeymoon phase, the easy years before kids and mortgages and all the real challenges of life. But lately, it feels like I'm married to a ghost.
I climb into bed beside him, careful not to touch him. He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something I can't make out.
I pick up my phone from the nightstand. Our text thread is still open.
Me: This is the third time this week, Teller.
Teller: I know. I'm sorry. We'll do something this weekend, I promise.
How many times has he made that promise? How many weekends have come and gone with him glued to his phone, texting Frank or "helping" some friend of Frank's with their problems?
I open my messages with my sister Hillary.
Me: You still up?
The response is immediate.
Hillary: Always. What's wrong?
Me: Teller came home after 1 AM. Again.
Hillary: Where was he?
Me: Out with Frank. "Talking."
Hillary: Sus, you need to talk to him. This isn't normal.
Me: I've tried. He just says I'm being paranoid. That I'm being clingy.
Hillary: You're not clingy for wanting your husband to come home at a reasonable hour. You're not paranoid for noticing he's always on his phone. Trust your gut.
I set my phone down and stare at the ceiling. Teller's breathing is deep and even beside me. He's so peaceful, so unbothered.
Meanwhile, I'm lying here at 2 AM, wondering if my marriage is falling apart.
Wondering if I'm crazy for thinking something's wrong.
Wondering when I became so small in my own life.