60. Storm
Auden’s job has consumed her completely. She leaves around eight in the morning and doesn’t come home until eight, sometimes nine at night. I’m proud of her, so fucking proud. It’s astounding how successful she’s become in such a short amount of time. But I miss her, and desperately need her sometimes. I just don’t know how to tell her without being a burden.
I’ve had good days and bad days since we moved in together. She helps me through the bad days, talks to me until there’s nothing left to talk about and I spew everything on my mind at her. She never judges me, she listens. I love it when she listens. I feel closer to her when I expose myself. I told her about my stress and my worries about not being where I should be in life. She helps me through it, but I’ve asked her not to be my therapist. She’s my woman, not my doctor. And that’s okay. I prefer her not to worry to the point of panic. The less of the dark side she sees, the better.
And lately, I haven’t shown her the darkest sides of me because she’s been so focused on work that she hasn’t bothered to see how I’m doing. And I need her because the suicidal thoughts have returned.
My depression comes in waves. And today is a bad day. I barely did anything other than go out for a jog. I try to improve on my own by jogging, looking for work, and cleaning. I’ve cleaned so much lately that I’m at the point where I use a toothbrush to scrub the tiles in the bathroom so they can sparkle for her.
Since quitting my job, I do the housework so she doesn’t have to lift a finger, but the last week has been tough on me and I’ve been slacking. It’s apparent, and yet she still hasn’t complained about it. She keeps telling me to keep my head high and that things will work out. Have I mentioned how perfect she is?
I wonder if I’ll ever find my footing, find my purpose in life that doesn’t revolve around a fucking bar. Back home on my days off I’d spend them with Heath. Take him fishing, go to the movies, and sometimes we’d just shoot the shit in his room and play with his toys. I miss that the most. Being around him always inflicted this calm, domestic side of me that makes me happy.
When Auden kissed me goodbye this morning, I saw it on her face there was something bothering her. A client she’s been dreading all week, but I didn’t tell her to have a good day. No, I was sad and wanted her to notice. She didn’t.
So I thought I’d take a jog through Central Park to ease the anxiety I woke up with. Instead, I find myself sitting on a bench watching kids and tourists take pictures of the Alice In Wonderland statue. I see a father with his son on his shoulders calling out to another one of his kids to be careful. The sight brings a smile to my face, something I never realized I was missing.
When Leah aborted our babies, I hated her and mourned the loss of those twins I’d never meet. But what I didn’t realize is, it hurt me so much because they were the missing piece to my puzzle. My purpose in life. People always tell me I’ll never amount to anything because I’m a manwhore who works at a bar and wakes up past noon every day. But if I had something to ground me, something to strive for, then I’d be so successful. Auden has grounded me, but something is still missing, and I think it’s the laughter that’s filling my ears from the rambunctious children running around the statue.
We’ve talked about moving forward with our relationship. I can’t wait to marry her. To watch her walk down the aisle in a beautiful dress I get to rip off her afterward. Her beauty is angelic, people deserve to see how gorgeous she is on her day.
Our stance on kids hasn’t shifted. I can’t wait to have them, while she doesn’t want any, thinking she wouldn’t be good enough of a parent to them. It’s hard to convince someone who’s felt abandoned all their life that they wouldn’t be like that with their own children. I think we’d make great parents. We come from two different worlds. Our baby would be able to experience city life and country life. The perfect yin and yang.
I sniff, fixing the AirPods in my ears, and continue my run back to our place. My mind doesn’t shut off, even with music blasting in my ears. All I can think about is crying, curling in a ball in total darkness, and staring at nothing at all until my mind shuts off for a few hours. But I have too much riding on me to do that.
I barge into our apartment, my heavy breathing consuming the silence, and head for the shower. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of housework I have to do, but it can wait. I have all day before it becomes a problem.
The water pelts off the back of my neck, sending me into a trance as I stand there lamenting as a wave of sadness hits me hard and a migraine throbs at my temples. Every day I wake up and thank God for bringing me my angel, then when I speak to Rick or Heath, I get reminded that the devil is coming to collect his dues for putting Denny in prison. It’s like a timer, ticking down until my time is done.
And my time is coming soon.
Stepping out of the shower, I run the towel through my hair and get into sweatpants and a t-shirt, ready to plop on the couch all day and wallow in my self-pity, then get to housework right before she gets home. It’s been my routine lately and I’m sticking to it.
I rub my eye, take one of my vinyls out, and put the needle on the first song, listening to the crackling before the song begins. It’s almost ten in the morning, but I can go for a drink right about now. Maybe it’ll help this blinding headache. I keep a stash on a shelf under my vinyl player. She doesn’t mind it and says it’s good for when Sean comes over. Fucking Sean. She spends more time with him than she does with me. Work or not, I miss my fucking angel.
I find a comfortable position on the couch, drink my scotch, and listen to vinyl as my eyes slowly close. I’ll sit here until an hour before Auden gets home, then I’ll get some shit done.
Side one ends, so I switch it to the other side and pour myself another drink.
When that ends, I put on another vinyl and pour another drink.
Three hours go by and I still haven’t moved. A typical day for me. But when I hear the front door open, I panic because she’s home early. Shit, I didn’t do the laundry, I didn’t do the dishes, and I didn’t even think of dinner. We’re going to argue, I can feel it. And yet, I don’t move.
Auden sighs as soon as she walks in. I don’t like this sigh, I’m sure she notices the baskets of laundry I was supposed to fold on the kitchen table and the pile of dishes in the sink.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Like a fucking tool, I want to finish my scotch and let this song end. It’s one song and three more sips of scotch. I’ve waited this long, what’s three more minutes?
Her high heels clack the floors as she comes toward me and I don’t even have to take her in to know she’s pissed off. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the couch. I’ve had a bad morning of self-pity and self-hatred, the last thing I need is to hear her nagging me. She never does, but sooner or later, she’s going to snap. And I have a feeling that today is that day.
“Fuck, Storm, is it so hard to just pick up your shit? It takes two fucking seconds,” Auden scoffs, grabbing plates and the newspapers I’ve been job-searching through off the coffee table, and marching into the kitchen. “I came home early to have lunch with you and the house is a fucking mess.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” I jeer, regretting it instantly.
“Busy doing what?” She snorts, her face going red. “You’re home all fucking day, the least you can do is clean up after yourself so I don’t have to fucking do it after a long and grueling day of work.”
“Anything else?” I say in a snarky and condescending tone.
“No need to talk to me like that,” she says, shaking her head and marching to the kitchen again.
“No need to fucking nag me every two seconds.” I scoff, trying to catch the words as they leave my lips. What the fuck am I doing?
“Nag you?” She chuckles, stepping into the hallway. “You’re home all fucking day! Christ, I’m not your mother. I shouldn’t have to slave at work to come home and have to slave even more.”
I sip the scotch. “No one asked you to.”
Great, I’ve struck a nerve I didn’t want to strike. I knew we would argue the moment we woke up this morning. I was in no mood to comfort her before she went to work because I was, once again, wallowing in my self-pity. This woman does everything for me and I couldn’t even give her that pep she needed for her day. Now look at us. We’re about to have a screaming match when she took time out of her day to have lunch with me.
She raises her voice, getting frustrated that I won’t even look at her. That’s how upset I am at myself for talking back to her as if she is my fucking mother. “Seriously? Well, if I don’t do it who the fuck will?”
“Fine! Fuck!” I yell and stand, downing my drink. “A migraine and all, but I’ll wash the fucking dishes.”
“That’s not what I asked—”
“You ask a fucking lot,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.
Why am I doing this? Releasing all my stress on her. She doesn’t need this.
She’s taken aback. “Are you for real?”
A fire burns inside of her, I can see it written all over her face. I’m in shit right now, and it’s my own damn fault.
Gritting her teeth, she clenches her fists at her sides. “I ask a fucking lot? You know, thank fucking God we don’t have kids, I’d be doing everything while you sit there on your ass and drink yourself into a stupor.”
She scoffs and walks off. But before she does, there are tears in her eyes. Fuck, I’ve gone and done it now all because I’m jealous of her success. I fucked up and chose not to make a name for myself because I hated myself, I hated my life—I was going to end my life until I met her. She’s so intelligent and well-spoken, it wasn’t a doubt in my mind she was going to flourish in New York City. I can’t even blame her; she’s encouraged me to go back to school. I just don’t know what to do. My attention span won’t even be able to handle it, either.
“Babe, wait!” I charge after her and reach for her hand as she’s opening the front door to leave. “Auden!”
She turns, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Leave me the fuck alone, Storm.” Her breathing hitches, a sob lodged in her throat and she rips her hand from my grasp. “I don’t fucking need this shit.”
“Okay, so you’re gonna leave and head back to work where you spend all of your fucking time,” I scream, letting my anxiety speak for me. “You’re never home anymore. You’re there, with Sean, forgetting all about me! Your fucking fiancé who you dragged from Campbellton to be with you and you can’t even see how fucking miserable I am. All you care about are your fucking clients, so you know what, go be with them. I don’t want you here!”
Shut up you stupid fucking idiot!
She whimpers, shaking her head, and grits her teeth. “Go to hell, Storm. It’s not my fault you’re unemployed.” She takes a step away and whips around, glaring at me. “If you didn’t want to fucking come here, then you should’ve stayed home living the same miserable life you were living. Guess nothing has fucking changed, huh?” She slips the engagement ring off her finger and tosses it at my chest. “Go fuck yourself, Storm.”
I catch the ring, looking down at it in shock. I stammer on a few words, tears spilling from my eyes as I watch her disappear around the corner.
I let her leave.
I let her believe I don’t want her around.
I ruin everything I touch; it was only a matter of time before I ruined her.