Page 38 of Something Old

No point though. There isno pointto any of this.

“Will you be home for dinner?” he asks, and I can’t figure out why he’s still talking to me.

“I’m not sure.” I say, shrugging. Then before he can stretch this awkward moment out any further, I turn towards the front door again and wave my hand over my shoulder. “Bye.” I say, walking away. Now he doesn’t have to pretend to be polite and I don’t have to suffer through another moment with the man I wish I was allowed to be in love with.

“Oh - bye.” He says.

I hurry out of the front door. Biting my lower lip as I rush towards my car. He is standing at the front door watching me - why? Why is he even interested in what I’m doing?

As I pull out of the driveway, I make a point of not looking back towards him. I don’t want to know if he’s still there watching or not. Either way it will just hurt me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Masaccio

Leora rushes past my bedroom door, towards the stairs, carrying her handbag. She is leaving again. She’s hardly ever home lately.

I stand up and rush to follow her.

Standing at the top of the stairs I talk because I need to grab her attention before she’s out the door and gone for the entire day again.

“Where are you off to?” I call out as she steps off the stairway.

She doesn’t turn to face me.

“Just out for a bit.” Her voice is bland and void of emotion.

“You’re hardly around anymore.”

I walk down the stairs towards her, and she is forced to turn and face me.

I stand close, almost pushing her up against curved railing of the staircase.

She looks annoyed by my comment as I stare down at her. She won’t make eye contact.

This is not like the Leora I was getting used to.

That Leora was talkative and playful. She used to try to reach out towards me sometimes or steal a hug in the kitchen while I was making coffee.

For the past week Leora has been leaving without saying goodbye and staying out for the entire day - I don’t even know what she’s been up to because she doesn’t even speak to me when she is home.

I’ve been eating dinner alone because she eats in her room and the only evidence, I have of how she’s staying busy is an empty bookshop packet or a takeaway coffee mug - it’s kind of ridiculous that I live with her but - it doesn’t seem like I live with anyone.

She takes a step away from me and I feel I need to make more conversation otherwise she will just leave. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugs, nonchalant, disinterested. Then she turns away from me, waves her hand in the air and shouts. “Bye.”

“Oh - bye.” I stammer, following her to the door.

I don’t even know where she’s going or when she will be back.

Shouldn’t I know where my wife is going?

I watch her as she climbs into her car, not turning to look at me again, not even when she pulls out of the long driveway and turn out onto the street.

I sigh.

I don’t know why I’ve been feeling so bland these last few days.

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