Chad
“No, I guess not,” she said, and her voice was smaller than ever.
“All right, I’m glad we agree,” I said. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
Maybe when I got out, she’d have seen my point of view and we could have dinner together.
But by the time I was out she’d already eaten and was in bed.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“I’m going to bed now.”
“What? It’s only 7 pm!”
“It’s fine, Chadley. I’m just tired.”
“OK.”
I didn’t push, because Bitsy was not one to carry a grudge, so instead I ate dinner all by myself reading golf news on my phone.
By 10 pm she still hadn’t come out.
Well, if she was going to hold a grudge, we could just talk about it tomorrow.
I absolutely was in the right. This was not too much to ask, Bitsy was just being immature.
Which was just like her, I thought angrily. What grown man wants a skeleton made of rice, for fuck’s sake? If she was going to make me a lunch it had to be something that wasn’t embarrassing.
I got in my side of the bed, and there was a distinct line of pillows in the middle. Whatever. Didn’t she realize how important this promotion was to me? It wasn’t like I had asked her to change her whole damn life. We were talking about two hours at a dinner.
The next morning I overslept, and I only had 10 minutes to shower, get dressed, do my hair, and prep for my presentation.
Fuck fuck fuck
Bitsy was still in bed when I got up, still a silent little mound under the covers, which only irritated me more, because obviously I’d slept like shit and that was her fault for refusing to cuddle.
“I’m not asking for much,” I said sternly. “Just for you to be a little more like Kyle’s wife. She knows how to act appropriately in a corporate office. I’m just asking you to tamp down a few things, that’s all.”
She did not reply.
“I have to go.”
Still no response.
Well, whatever. I’d make it up to her by ordering from her favorite place tonight.
It seemed like a very proper response when I marched off to the office. And also when I got an energy drink for breakfast and stomped into the elevator.
But the more I sat in my office and stared at my computer screen, the less fully justifiable and defensible it seemed.
After an hour I began to shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Well, perhaps I hadn’t put that very well. Maybe I should have waited for a day I wasn’t so stressed.
And had I made it very clear that of course this just pertained to her appearance and behavior around my work colleagues and boss?
I wasn’t so sure I had.
After teaching my first lesson of the day, I felt even worse.
Obviously I didn’t want her to change. If I’d said that, I hadn’t meant it. That was ridiculous. I adored everything about Bitsy. Not only was she super sexy, absolutely bitchin body, but she was funny as hell, smart, interesting, kind, really considerate, banger cook, and my soulmate.
Wanna get Cuban food for dinner? I texted her.
That was her favorite, and obviously I was going to properly explain things tonight. It was just a work thing. Nothing else. Nothing to be upset about.
But after an hour had passed and she hadn’t responded to my text, I began to twitch a bit.
By the time it was almost lunch, I wondered if maybe I hadn’t been a bit of an ass.
In fact, I was sure I had been.
Sorry for how I behaved last night.
No response to that either.
God, really, I had been rude. I definitely hadn’t been fully clear about what I was asking her to do. I hadn’t been trying to hurt her feelings or anything. I’d just been feeling so stressed recently, could barely think about anything but this promotion.
Now I really regretted not making things clearer to her.
Although she might be busy at the Sloppy Joe, I itched to call her. It wasn’t usual that she was this busy, so busy she couldn’t even respond to my texts.
By the time lunch rolled around, I wasn’t feeling hungry at all, only jittery and anxious, every single ding on my phone making me lunge to see if it was Bitsy texting me back.
But it never was.
Back in the break room, I opened my lunchbox.
Whatever this lunch was, I was going to appreciate the fuck out of of it.
But it was totally empty except for one neatly folded piece of paper.
What the hell?
I opened it hastily, glancing down at my phone to see if maybe she had texted back and it was all a big joke.
Nope.
Dear Chad,
Maybe Kyle’s wife can make your lunch.
Regards,
Bitsy
Not even an xoxoxo after her name? Boy, I was in deep shit.
“What’s happening?” Zach asked in his smarmy fashion. “Trouble at home?”
I was so pissed I could’ve strangled him. Pissed mostly at myself, but at him too, for making those little comments about her he had tried to pass off as jokes.
“No, of course not. And I want you to shut up about Bitsy, dude. Don’t let me hear you making any little jokes about her again. I love my wife and if you talk any shit about her I’ll punch you in the fucking mouth.”
Zack snorted.
“Yeah, idiot. Of course you love her. She’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Blue hair, too? Like damn. Everyone’s jealous of you. Especially Kyle. His wife is boring as fuck.”
My tie was choking me as I desperately tried to wrangle the knot free.
“What the hell? You said her lunches were cringe. That she was corny. You said she was the reason I couldn’t get the promotion.”
Zach’s jaw dropped and he stared at me.
“I was just playing mind games with you! And you believed it? Bahahahahaha. Idiot.”
Fuckkkkkkkk
I had to get out of here. I had to make this right with Bitsy.
“You’re a bastard.”
But he’d already perked up and was hovering at the edge of his chair.
“Wait, can I have her number if you guys are splitting?” he shouted as I sprinted down the hall.
“We’re not splitting!” I hollered. “Ever!”
Fuck, I was going to have to tell my boss I had to go. Even though I had a presentation on new client strategies scheduled for later that afternoon. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t go another minute without making this right with Bitsy.
Mr. Van Buren was not going to be happy, but right now that didn’t matter. I bolted down the hallway to his office.
My tie felt like it was strangling me.
“Excuse me, sir,” I gasped as I burst in, and unfortunately Kyle happened to be right there, but I didn’t care right now. “I need to take the rest of the day off. Personal reasons.”
“Are you really planning to take personal time right before your presentation?” Mr. Van Buren asked, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a very important board meeting.”
He said personal time like you might say a bite of shit.
“Yes, sir, I am. I’m sorry. I would love to reschedule as soon as I get back.”
Kyle could barely contain his smug smirk, but at this point I couldn’t think about anything besides Bitsy.
“Well,” my boss said, “I can’t legally tell you not to take your personal time.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promised, not caring that he clearly didn’t approve.
Her workplace was only downstairs, but I couldn’t wait for the elevator. I took those damn stairs four at a time, slipping on my stupid slick wingtips.
My wife still wasn’t answering the phone. Maybe she was just busy. Maybe nothing was wrong and I was overreacting. . .
But somehow I couldn’t go the rest of the day without making this right.
“Can I talk to Bitsy?” I gasped, grabbing the front door of The Sloppy Joe and pulling myself around like a cartoon character.
Her assistant manager gave me a strange look.
“Bitsy? She never came in today. Said she was taking a few days off for personal reasons. Maybe longer.”
Maybe longer?
Fumbling for my phone, I pulled up her location.
The airport?
Now I was really panicking, calling her again and again as I got back in the car and jammed down on the accelerator.
“Bitsy, please pick up!” I begged in my voicemail, unable to keep the pure panic from my voice. “Are you all right? Where are you going? Before you go anywhere, please wait and hear what I have to say!”
I ripped off my tie, the buttons on my shirt spraying like shrapnel.
Bitsy, why won’t you pick up?
I tried to force myself to think logically as I called her again.
“Baby, I love you so much! Don’t go anywhere without talking to me. Please.”
I couldn’t just go to the airport and demand to be let through security to hunt my wife down. They’d think I was a crazy man and throw me in jail.
Since Bitsy wasn’t responding, I needed to go home and see if I could find any clue to where she had gone.
Was Bitsy leaving me? Did she want to split up? Fuck.
Anxiety threatened to swamp me, and I could already feel sweat running down my back and soaking my shirt.
This was like a freaking nightmare. Why was this happening? I hadn’t meant it that way. She should know that, right? Right?
I pounded up the steps to our condo and then fumbled in my pocket for the keys.
They slipped through my fingers and onto the front porch, and I cursed loudly as I dropped down on shaky knees to find them.
This was fucking torture. . .oh my god. . .
Finally I was in, and even though it was ridiculous, I couldn’t help calling for her.
“Bitsy? Bitsy? Where are you?”
Charging from room to room, it took me way too long to notice there was a sign propped right on the sparkling clean counter top.
Dear Chadley it said, in Bitsy’s lovely, looping scroll.
My stomach sunk so fast I felt dizzy, that noon cappuccino burning my throat.
“I’m leaving for my dad’s house. . .”