What am I to you? // Corpse Husband

8. Misunderstanding

Thursday 11.47pm

Crossing the living area, he no longer is on the sofa and I walk to the kitchen where I find him leaning on the breakfast bar, sitting on one of the swivel stools. My phone is sitting next to him, although I thought I left it on the coffee table before I went to freshen up.

He doesn't move when I pass by him, opening the fridge.

"Do you want another drink?"

His head lifts and I see darkness in his eyes. This unexpected anger takes me off guard. I don't know what happened or what to do to appease him.

"Why are you playing with me?" He slurs shakily.

"What? What do you mean?"

"What am I to you? Am I here to fill a void? You looked after me so you could feel better about yourself? Was I a substitute for your son? Or your ex? Did you take pity on me? Is that why you're still here?" He asks, his tone of voice gradually taking confidence in this preposterous tirade.

Nonetheless, his voice resonates in my chest and I am hypnotised by the fire in his eyes. How dare he bringing Travis into this nonsense?

"That's not fair. You know as well as I do that I look after people as part of my job."

"So I'm a job? Wow! I thought we were at least friends."

"We are friends! I'm not on the job anymore and I'm here! Aren't I? If I ever made you feel that I had pity on you I'm sorry. It's not like that." I try to reach for his hand but he pulls away, looking at me with disgust. My heart sinks so deep, I feel like I'm gonna be sick. My lip shaking I try desperately to make sense of this crazy change of vibe. "I don't understand what is happening! Just tell me. Why are you so angry? What have I done to you? In the last five minutes? We were fine watching TV." I can't get him to look at me but still try to reach for him, again without success.

"Get the fuck out." He mutters, looking down.

"Come on tell m..."

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" His shout brings tears to my eyes but I won't blink. I don't want them to show up. What have I done though? This is killing me.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me why." His stare is nothing but pain and spite, and I am trying my hardest not to be intimidated. I'm not leaving him in that state, especially if it's my fault.

"You go and have a nice life with your asshole."

"What?!? I don't... I'm not..." For fuck's sakes why can't I speak? "I don't have an 'asshole'."

"Whatever you call it, I still want you to leave."

He's quieting down and looks so upset, my heart is pounding. He's obviously being jealous, but why? I can see that I can't reason with him.

Feeling like I've lost, lost the best thing that had happened to me, I leave the kitchen letting the tears I was restraining flow, pick up my heavy bag, my phone from the bar and step out of his apartment, looking back one last time. Is this the last time I see him?

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I've done but whatever it is, I'm..." I can't finish my sentence before I breathe in abruptly in a sob. "Sor... sorry." I breath out.

Once the door shuts behind me, I still don't want to go and lean back on it, letting myself fall to the floor, letting go of my emotions which are an unhealthy mixture of confusion, grief and pain.

I sob there for a minute, hoping he will change his mind and open the door. Hoping he will take me in his arms and reassure me that he was wrong. I don't want to go. I need to understand. I need answers. After wiping my tears, sniffling, I pick up my phone and unlock the screen to find the last message opened on Danny's conversation.