When All is Lost

Chapter 34

Two plates of food sat on the table before me. A discarded knitting project lay by my feet, but rather than working on it, I tugged anxiously at the end of my ponytail. I tried to see the time on the watch that rested between the plates, but the more I looked, the more the numbers seemed to blur.

I jumped when my apartment door opened, the sound crashing into my senses. Rather than my usual excitement, I felt forlorn. Chris closed the door, entering our small space. Weariness sat heavily on his shoulders as he turned to me with a sad smile.

"Hi," I said breathlessly. A warm feeling bloomed in my chest as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining me at the table.

He glanced down at the spam-on-bread concoction. It clearly tempted him, but he took the time to look back up at me. "Hey."

"How was your day?" I asked, feeling the familiar deep ache of loneliness that settled in me most days.

"Fine," he answered. His tone was warm, but he was withdrawn again, unwilling to share. "Uneventful."

I watched as he took a bite of the food, basking in the small amount of pride I took in sneaking him a slightly bigger portion. "Mine too," I said unprompted. "I knitted another sock today."

"Mmm." He took another bite not meeting my eyes.

"You never told me anything," I whispered. As though under a spell, Chris kept eating. He took more bites than there was bread. It gave me the courage to continue. "Why didn't you tell me anything? There were so many times you could have told me how bad things were. You never said anything."

He kept eating.

"You kept me ignorant. You left me trapped in a box, completely unprepared for what was coming. You knew. You knew and said nothing."

He took another bite.

"Maybe... maybe I could have saved you. If you had just said something. Anything!" I was breathing hard by the time I was done, emotion strangling my throat.

Carefully, he set his food down, letting it become untouched once again. When he looked up at me, his eyes showed nothing. "I wanted to protect you."

I lost my breath. Anger rolled through me in a way I'd never experienced. Not with Chris – not ever. "Protect me?" I repeated, utterly aghast.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"That's what you always said but you never heard me. I told you so many times – I was always worried!" I was too angry to cry but my chest ached fiercely. "You." My voice shook. "You did this to us. To me. You left me trapped to ease your own worries and fears. It was never about me. You didn't want to tell me anything because then it would have felt too real to you."

He smiled sadly at me. For once, I didn't see it as kind but rather, condescending. "But you are okay. You're doing fine."

I slapped my hands down on the table, partially standing as I did. "I'm not okay. Nothing about this is okay!"

Chris looked surprised. I'd never talked to him in such a way before.

"How can I be okay?" I slumped back into my chair, looking at the bloody hand prints I'd left on our clean table. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You're doing fine."

"I've lost everything." I could feel my scar throbbing on my chest. To resist touching it, I balled my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. "I lost you."

"You'll survive it." A tinge of humor was in his voice, though it sounded sad.

I sneered, unable to meet his eyes. "Will I?"