Chapter 5
It's been about a week since Daniel has been home, and I've gotten used to him not calling. I go out. I see sights. I can order the ride service that's on standby whenever I need. I spend most of my time video gaming, painting, creating things.
That's how I get my outlet, and talking to my gerbils.
Sometimes I go on the trail with them in my backpack.
They have a little mesh window that they can look out of.
I have ways to entertain myself. I do. And growing up, I never had an issue with entertaining myself at all.
As a matter of fact, I thrived on living on my own or being by myself.
It's not like I had a certain plan; all I wanted to do was be able to live life and live free.
The closest friend I remember having was Andrew.
We grew up on the same block and were inseparable until college, where life naturally pulled us apart.
He stayed in our hometown, and he married a local girl.
Now he has a quiet, comfortable, middle-class life with a couple of kids.
Me and him haven't spoken in nearly a decade.
The little bit that I did reach out to him, to add him as a friend, he was happy to hear from me, and we caught up.
But I guess his wife must have said something because he unfriended me.
When I asked him why, he gave some weird excuse along the lines of, "Oh, I'm just very busy, and I'm cleaning house with contacts that I don't talk to every day.
" But I knew what it was. I'm not stupid.
Can't really blame his wife either, seeing as I feel kind of jealous myself whenever Daniel is around other women.
Don't get me wrong, Daniel has never been disrespectful to me.
When we've gone to his events and parties for networking, and I'm dressed in my ball gown, all done up and looking pretty...
there are so many other women that I just feel like I'm completely out of their league, but he never stares too long.
He'll kiss them, do that double side-kiss thing that people do to show that they're rich.
It's like an air kiss where they never actually really touch each other.
Or he'll take the small of a woman's back and talk to them.
Nothing too rude, but I see the way that women look at him.
Either when my eye is turned, he looks at them the same way, or he has a very good hold on his self-control.
There was never a reason that he's given me specifically to think for certain he's cheating, except that he works all the time now.
I get it, he's in high demand, but it's like marriage is second nature to him.
Then, Daniel is back.
My heart starts beating really, really fast. I rush to go put on some lingerie. I'm tearing through my things.
What's the prettiest thing I can find?
What's the prettiest thing I can find???
I actually bought some new lingerie recently, just hoping that he'd like it. It's this beautiful, completely see-through piece.
After I put it on, I start scattering flowers all the way from the walkway of the house, leading straight into the bedroom.
The petals that I bought smell amazing. They're pink petals, but whatever.
I put them all the way up the stairs, onto the carpet, and then I lie down on the big, wide bed. Our bedroom is beautiful and spacious.
I stutter for a second, trying to remember the name. Oh, yeah. That's right.
"Athena," I say.
The house pings.
"Yes, Melody."
"Please tint master bedroom windows."
"What percentage?" Athena asks.
"Tint them to 80%."
"Done."
The windows suddenly become much darker.
This smart home has a lot of features, but it's not as completely automated as everyone thinks.
Of course, the front door is automated. It knows when you're coming and unlocks when it detects your face.
The toilet auto-flushes unless you set it not to.
When you put clothes in the laundry, it will ping anywhere in the house to let you know that the laundry is finished.
It helps mostly with notifications, to be honest, and shutting the windows and doors when you need it to, or turning on the shower, or whatever.
It's not that smart when it comes to other things.
It knows how to sense that there is not a lot of food in the fridge based on the weight of the food, but that's about it.
Apparently, my husband didn't get the highest one on the market.
Still, this house doesn't feel like a home because, well, it's not my home. Daniel's hardly ever here.
While he's here, I wanna try and get us to connect.
I hear him walk up the stairs after what feels like twelve minutes of him doing god knows what downstairs.
I'm so nervous. This is my husband, and I'm lying on this big bed with the low lights, nervous, like this is our first night meeting each other. It's crazy how much like strangers I feel like we are.
Sounds like he’s going to the bathroom, and then he finally comes in. I try to look as sexy as I can, lying on my right side with my elbow propped up and my face resting in my hand.
Daniel stops right in the doorway. He just looks at me, his eyes combing all the way down my body and then back up to my face, but there's no feeling in them at all. It's like he's wondering what I'm doing, or as if he wasn't prepared for this. He doesn't look very delighted by it at all.
"Hi, baby," I say, giving him the biggest smile I can give him and batting my eyes.
"Hello?" he says, his tone trailing off like a question.
What the hell is his problem?
"I didn't know you were coming home so early," I say.
"Yeah. Well, I'm kinda tired. So," he says, putting his jacket in the closet. He looks so sexy right now.
"I missed you, and I wanted to give you a little something," I tell him.
"I can see that," he says.
His back is still turned to me, his eyes focused on the closet. It's like he's stalling and doesn't even wanna interact with me. Part of me wants to fight and say, Fuck it. Just throw the whole thing away.
But I do miss him, and I love him. Whatever this thing is between us, I wanna bridge it.
I just lie there on the bed, feeling strange.
Daniel takes off his shirt. His big, bold hawk tattoo with its wings unfurled stretches across the outer portion of his bicep, the hawk's right wing making its way onto his upper left breast. It makes it look like the hawk is ready to perch right on his shoulder.
Then he starts unbuckling his pants, and I just look at him, marveling that this is my husband.
That's when I notice the chain around his neck.
It's his ring.
He's wearing it close to his chest, but not on his finger.
Really and truly, I try to ignore the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me he's doing this so he can hide it, so people won't see it on his finger. I keep telling myself over and over again not to make much of it. Don't make much of it. Don't say anything.
"Your ring," I say anyway.
He just looks at me as he starts approaching the bed. He stands at the foot of it while I shift onto my back, propped up by my elbows.
"What about it?" he asks with that bored, tired tone.
I keep a tender smile on my face that I hope doesn't betray how my heart is breaking. "I didn't know you started wearing it on your chain."
"Is that a problem?"
"I just... well, why? Is it hurting your finger?"
"No," he says, and doesn't offer anything else.
I hold out my left hand and look at the ring on my finger. It's a beautiful diamond wreath. It's the most gorgeous thing I've ever gotten, but I would have been happy if he just gave me a piece of cardboard.
"I don't blame you," I say, trying to soften the mood. "I feel kinda weird wearing something this expensive on my finger. I'd rather have something silicone, to be honest."
"My wife isn't gonna walk around with silicone on her hands," he scoffs, looking away. "Is that what you think of me?"
"No, baby… I… Of course not. I appreciate it."
"Sure. Doesn't feel like it."
What the actual hell is his problem?
"Danny, is everything okay?" I ask, sitting up now. I completely forget about the lingerie on my body, just feeling concerned about him. I know that work is stressful for him, but I hope that's all it is.
"Everything's fine. It's just... I don't wanna be judged as soon as I walk through my house."
"I wasn't trying to judge you," I say, a little bit more firm this time, trying not to get angry.
"Feels like you do. You nitpick everything that I do."
My mouth falls open and I sit up straighter. "Nitpick everything you do? What are you talking about?"
"Every time I come home," he says, throwing his hands up, "you do this.
You ask about my day, which is fine, but then you try to fix me.
You tell me I shouldn't have said this or that to a client, or how I handle my dad.
Before I can even unpack, you're telling me I should call my mother, or that I need to wear this shirt or that shirt. It's constant."
"Oh my god, Danny," I say, feeling completely confused. "I don't mean anything by it. And I used to do that stuff when we were dating!"
"Yeah. And I hated it then, too."
This is news to me.
"What? I..." I stutter. Then I clasp my hands together and take a deep breath. I stand up, walking over to him to take his hand. "Did you have a really bad day or something? Like, was the job...?"
Danny slides his hands out of mine and walks toward the window. At first, I think he's going to untint them, but he doesn't. He's not really looking at anything.
"It's just been a lot. That's all."
"Well, come here," I say, trying to bring him back from whatever precipice he's standing over.
He reluctantly faces me and looks down at me, letting out a heavy breath. His eyes just look different. They're beautiful and smoldering, but not, well... not the way they used to look. There used to be joy in them. There used to be happiness just to see me.