Page 36 of Nothing But It All
And there’s reality, smashing me in the face.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I had to wash the rest of the dishes. Get your cooler emptied so it doesn’t reek from stagnant water. Sweep all the dirt we tracked in today. Inventory the food. Wipe the counters. Change a light bulb in the laundry area because I almost face-planted over a stack of blankets the kids ripped off the beds and deposited in the middle of the floor.”
He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he focuses on offering his puppy a drink.
“Oh, your dog shit in the laundry room. I cleaned it up too,” I say.
He rubs his knuckles on the back of Snaps’s head. “You can’t shit in the house, Snapsy. Come on, boy.”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Jack notices my reaction and sighs.
“He’s a puppy. Cut him some slack,” he says.
As if he understands English, Snaps barks one quick sound of agreement.
Really?“Snaps is another living thing that I don’t have the energy to maintain. Cut me some slack.”
“No one asked you to do anything for him.”
“What am I supposed to do when I nearly step in dog shit? Just leave it until you find yourself in the laundry room?” I snort, myfrustration evident in the sound. “That would take a tornado ripping through Story Brook. The only way I can see you in there is if you’re running for cover and it’s the safest room in the house.”
We face each other head-on, waiting for the other to blink.
“I’m going to bed,” I say finally, heading down the hallway before Jack can respond.
My jaw clenches as a nasty exhale streams out of my nostrils.Of course he doesn’t understand. Why would he?
Soft light casts a glow around the small main bedroom. On either side of the bed are two faux-Tiffany lamps that were Jack’s mom’s. They’ve always made me laugh. Who has fancy lamps in a rustic cabin from the early 1900s?
Us, I guess.
The bedspread, a thin blue-and-white design that I picked up at an end-of-the-summer sale years ago, is folded back. I bring it every year. The suitcase that Maddie brought for me sits on a chair. Beside it is the overnight bag that I packed when I thought I was just spending the night.
Standing next to the small closet that barely holds our clothes, I take in the sight in front of me.I notice every little thing.
The dent from Jack’s head on the pillow next to mine. A bottle of his cologne next to my sunglasses on the dresser. Our shoes lying together on the floor.
Everything’s just like it’s been for the last two decades ... except it’s not.
“I’ll clean up after the dog,” Jack says.
I jump, making room for him and Snaps to enter the room. My heart pounds as I watch him set the dog down on the bed. Snaps prances across the blankets as if he owns the place.
“Please don’t let this be a point of contention between us.” Jack turns to face me, the puppy nipping at his fingertips. “If he makes a mess, just tell me. I’ll get it or get one of the kids to.”
“Sure.”
He waits as if he expects that I’ll say something more. Instead, I make my way across the small room and dig around in my bag until I find the T-shirt—his T-shirt—that’s barely long enough to cover my ass that I brought to sleep in.
When I expected it just to be me in bed.
I wad it into a ball, my cheeks flushing, and march toward the bathroom.
Jack
The bathroom door clicks closed.
“Fuck,”I say, sitting on the bed. Snaps jumps on my arm and barks. “Your opinion isn’t needed. You don’t even know her.”
