After Lillian had finished her hot chocolate and failed in convincing Betty to let her pay for it, she pushed open the door and stepped back onto the street.
All of a sudden, she had a moment of clarity so absolute that she marveled at how she hadn't seen this solution before. She would go back home, talk to Mark, and suggest counseling if she thought it was the right thing. It was in no way a perfect solution, but it was far better than running scared for reasons unknown even to herself.
Filled with a new sense of determination and purpose, she spun on her heels and set off down the street.
As she was walking, however, doubt began creeping back into the deepest neglected recesses of her overcrowded mind. She knew Mark well enough that she should be able to say with confidence that this wasn't domestic violence, but all the tangible evidence seemed to indicate the contrary. As she turned left onto Baker, she saw a young couple holding hands and smiling sheepishly, cheeks flushed but not from the cold. She and Mark had looked like that once, she knew. What had happened since then to push their relationship over the edge of dysfunctionality? Come to think of it, they rarely talked anymore, not about anything consequential. Sex was half-hearted at best, and occurring with rapidly decreasing frequency. Most nights, Mark slept on the couch. Was this her fault? Had she pushed him away somehow, made him believe she would give up on him that easily?
Maybe she'd apologize. Yes, that was it. She'd read in some marriage-help book that "No marital problems, however superficial, are ever one-sided.". Even if Mark didn't see that she was partly to blame, she would apologize, and then maybe he'd see that she would never give up, that she would always value what they had.
As she turned onto Allan Street, she began thinking about the conversation with Mark she had yet to have. She would apologize, he would welcome her back with a perfect explanation for his unusual behavior - pressure at work, unexpected bills he didn't want to worry her with - and they would find a way to fix their relationship.
She was so caught up in her internal imaginings that she almost didn't notice when she reached #42 Allan Street, her and Mark's townhouse-style apartment. She stopped on the pavement and looked up at their top floor window, her breath catching in her throat as she did so.
Something was very wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Drowning
قصص عامةLillian Irving, an average Irish woman, struggles to maintain a relationship with the fickle man she loves. Some days he is caring and loving, and other days he acts as if she isn't there. Then, one morning, he is suddenly gone, leaving no evidence...
