ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟡
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The ride back from work is anything but delightful. Hunter and Desmond, my buddies from work, have been bothering me for being a "stay at home husband" even though I'm at work like, every other day. It was a good thing they weren't married yet- who knows how that would end up?
It's fine. I've heard worse things shouted at me through smoke.
When I enter the house, it's quiet, but it's like that everyday. I slip my turnout jacket off, hanging it on the hook beside me. I walk further into the house, going upstairs, expecting to see Dixie leaning against the headframe, on her laptop, but she's not.
"Dixie," I call out, hoping for some kind of noise. I walk back downstairs into the kitchen, until I finally spot her lying down on the living room sofa.
I walk closer, leaning down to give her a forehead peck, but my kiss misses air instead of skin.
"Dix?" I sit on the sofa by her feet, where there's still some space, running a hand through my hair.
I check my Rolex out of habit. It's currently 11:47 PM. Late, but not too usual for me. Maybe she was annoyed at the time I came- I usually arrive anywhere from 9:30 to 10:00, but today was busier than expected, and traffic was heavy.
"I'm sorry, it was hectic today, traffic was terrible." I assure her, rubbing my hand on her thigh.
When I still don't get a response, I sigh, glancing over. I can't see her face clearly. My hand is still resting on her thigh, moving gently, thumb brushing absentmindedly back and forth.
"Baby." I hate how uncertain I sound because I'm Cameron West- Head of department, the one guy who runs into burning buildings and keeps people calm.
But this quiet from my wife brings me to my knees faster than fire ever could. I let out a slow breath, rubbing my hand down my face before trying again.
"Did I do something?" I try again.
"...no."
I frown immediately. I should be happy she answered, but the way she said it sounded completely fake.
"Okay, see, that sounded fake."
She shifts on the couch before not responding. I glance at the ceiling for a second, like maybe divine intervention might drop down and explain women to me.
A slow burn settles in my chest.
I just got off a long shift, spent half my night pulling people out of smoke because all I wanted was to come home and see her. And somehow being ignored by the one person I actually wanted to see feels worse than the fires.
"C'mon," I mutter, my hand sliding from her thigh to the couch cushion as I lean closer. "Don't do this."
Her shoulders shift slightly, like she's trying to move away.
"Alright," I say, pacing a little in front of the couch now. "So we're doing silent treatment."
I laugh once. "Cool."
I tug lightly at the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling too warm.
"Did I come home too late? Is that what this is?" I ask, raising my voice a little higher, my frustrating peeking through.
My voice softens despite myself. "...Did something happen?"
I step closer again, crouching beside the couch now, trying to lower myself into her line of sight. "Dix, look at me."
Great. Now my mind started to drift off to worst case scenarios.
Is she mad? That's a stupid question. Of course she was, Cameron.
Did someone call?
Did something happen at work?
Is she sick?
Is she just done with me?
I bet it was the last one even though that option hurts the most.
"Dixie," I say again, and now there's something emotional in it I can't even hide. "Please."
"Seriously?" My voice breaks just a little from sheer disbelief. "You won't even look at me?"
I regret how sharp that sounds, but I'm tired and worried, and maybe even a little hurt. Honestly, at this point? I'd even take another 'I hate you.'
"Yell at me, then." I say.
"Tell me I'm annoying." A tired breath leaves my mouth.
"Tell me to shut up. You love doing that."
I quietly laugh at that, because if I don't I'd probably go crazy by now.
Did I sound off on the phone? Forget something?
An anniversary? No, not that, I would never.
Did he say something weird this morning?
"Did I do something stupid?"
No answer, still. "Besides the usual."
I drop my head back against the couch cushion and groan quietly. "Dixie, I'm literally begging here."
Anger, I could work with. That was my usual thing now. But you know what silence does to a man? It makes them physically want to crawl out of their flesh.
My hand squeezes her thigh lightly before I sigh.
"Alright," he says quietly, voice softer now. "I don't know what's going on in that terrifyingly beautiful head of yours..."
"But I'm running outta guesses."
He leans down slightly, pressing a small kiss to her leg through the blanket or fabric, whatever part of her he can reach without pushing too hard. "Please don't freeze me out forever. I can't handle that."
I wait two minutes before I finally let go of her thigh.
"Okay," I say, standing slowly. "I'm gonna go shower."
"I'll be upstairs," I add anyway. "If you decide you miss me. Or if the house catches fire."
"Too soon?"
Too soon.
"Tough crowd." I sighs, finally giving up, rubbing a hand down my face.
The room's dim, soft shadows stretch across the walls. I just stand there in front of the dresser, staring into it like.
Finally, breaking out of my trance, I grab a dark green shirt.
One of Dixie's favorites. I remember the day we had gotten coffee at this small cafe, and she accidentally spilt matcha on my brand new white shirt.
She then proceeded to say, 'Wait, green looks good on you.'
When I finally snagged my green shirt, she told me I should never take it off.
Dixie did have a good taste in color analysis.
Though she'd probably rather combust than admit that.
Part of me wonders if I should leave her alone for the night, but scratch that. I already sleep away from her enough when shifts run long, I'm not voluntarily adding to that.
So downstairs I go. For the first time in forever, I want to get rid of these never-ending stairs. As of this moment, they caused too much suspense. Who knows what Dixie West might be doing down there?
I round the corner into the living room and stop.
Shes exactly where I left her. Still curled up, and facing mostly the same way.
Then I decide to get closer, and I actually just stand there staring.
"...Are you kidding me?"
I actually just stand there, staring.
Because Dixie West..
My terrifyingly beautiful wife is fully asleep- completely knocked out. Her breathing is slow, even peaceful. Her face is relaxed.
Everything from the last hour comes crashing back- me pouring my heart out to her, pleading and begging. I cover my face with one hand, embarrassed.
"Oh my gosh." A quick chuckle escapes me before I can stop it.
"I've been having a whole emotional breakdown," I whisper to myself, "over a sleeping woman."
"No wonder you didn't answer." I laugh harder now, shaking my head. I look at her sleeping there, all peaceful and unbothered
I should be offended, but I'm mostly relieved. Relieved that she's okay, relieved that she was purposely ignoring me.
I crouch beside the couch carefully, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looked so at peace.
"Wow," I murmur softly, smiling despite myself. "I was confessing everything to you, Dixie."
I lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. No matter how much we fought over the dumbest or most serious things ever, she's still my girl.
Then, because I can't get over the topic: "Next time, snore before I have a crisis. Save a man's sanity."
~