Page 41 of Something Old

His eyes darken and his jaw muscles feather.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” He asks.

“I mean - with all due respect - why does itmatterif I am home or out? What difference does it make to you? It’s not like you enjoy my company. It’s not like you enjoy the dinners I make for you and it’s certainly not like you enjoyed it when I made a fool of myself trying to hug you on those random occasions.” I fold my arms across my chest, repeating over and over in my mind that I will not cry. I willnotcry.

“Leora—” he stammers, but he does not know how to handle my outburst of truth. He’s only met the happy version of me - and the quiet version. He’s never had to deal with my anger.

I never even wanted to talk about this. I’m angry he put me in this position because even if I pretend, I’m ok with this - I’m not. I’m still hurting. I’ve gone quiet to deal with the pain - and now he’s forcing it out of me. It’s unfair. Why can’t he see that?

My fists are clenching and unclenching where they are lying on top of the table. My eyes feel like they are shooting spears out of them as I glare at him.

I can’t do this now. I’m too emotional. It will not end well.

I stand up to leave. Wanting to get away before he sees me crying. And not wanting to embarrass myself more than I already have around him.

But he stands up as well and glares at me with intensity. “Sit down. We are not finished eating yet.”

The way he speaks to me is like a slap in the face. What isheso angry about? What right does he have to be upset just because I am doing what he wanted all along?

But I don’t argue. The chef has put so much effort into the meal and on his behalf, I sit back down. Besides, I’m not keen to start an actual fight - and it feels as though we are about to.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

Masaccio sits down too, with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t seem to understand. Which makes no sense to me. How can someone put effort into achieving something - then be upset when they get it?

When he speaks again, I can see he has attempted to soften his expression and calm his voice.

“Leora, I am just trying to find out what is going on with you. You haven’t been yourself lately. The past week or so. You look - unhappy. You can talk to me you know. You can tell me what’s on your mind. I mean - the first few weeks you were here I couldn’t get you to stop talking—and now—” he grins and shakes his head. “Now, where are those long stories?”

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how the hell to answer him.

He never even listened to my long stories. I bet you if I asked him a simple question about anything I’ve told him about myself or my life - he wouldn’t be able to answer. So why does he want more stories now?

“Look, Mas, IknowI’ve been different this past week. I’m doing it as a choice. Not by accident. It isn’t something that is easy for me - but I had to accept the reality of this situation and behave according to truth instead of some stupid delusional idea I had in my head.”

I guess that’s as blunt and honest as I can be.

“What?” He blurts out. He has no idea what I mean.

Fuck sakes. I bite my lip, hard, to stop myself from yelling at him.

I just want to go to my room and be alone.

I sigh and try to explain a different way.

“I came into this marriage feelingexcited. Hopeful. Like a naïve little girl thinking I’d have this ‘happy ever after’ moment. Butin the past week I have fully accepted and processed and come to understand - that is not the case. You’ve made it more than clear that this marriage isnothing but a show.A business deal or whatever you want to call it. So, I stopped being pathetic and grasping for your attention when you clearly didn’t want to give it to me. I stopped asking for something that was never going to happen. Because lets be honest - all I was doing was embarrassing myself.”

I feel the tears stinging my eyes and reach for my wine glass just so that I have something to do. Something to distract me from the ache that is growing in my heart because he is forcing me to talk about this.

I can’t even look at him.

“Leora, why would you say that—I—I—” he is acting so surprised. It doesn’t make sense. How the fuck can he be surprised.

“You what?” I spit my words out at him because I’m becoming too emotional.

I was doing so well turning myself numb this past week and I was not prepared to open up like this tonight.

And how the hell can he sit there and pretend he didn’t know?

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