Seated across the table from me is a stranger. I don’t know this person, though she looks and sounds like my fiancee Vanessa. She hasn’t been herself since we got back from our trip to Mexico four months ago and I am the only person that seems to notice a change in her. Our friends keep telling me that I’m being silly and her father, well, he never really knew the real Vanessa, he’s always used his money to try to buy her love so he’s content with whatever version of Vanessa allows him to continue doing so.
“What’s the matter, aren’t you hungry?” I stare at the shell of the woman I love, studying her face, reading her body language. “Rick? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” I pick up my fork and push around the scrambled eggs that have already gone cold. These eggs are a perfect example of what I am talking about. Before our trip, Vanessa used to make us omelets, now, she’s making scrambled eggs. By itself, it’s not a big deal, preferences change over time, but it is just one of many changes I’ve seen in her.
“Were you up late working on the pictures from yesterday’s shoot? I dozed off early so I didn’t notice what time you came to bed.” She jabs her fork into a lump of egg and I watch her lift it to her mouth. The fork hovers just before her lips but she lowers it without taking a single bite. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Yeah,” I get up and head to the kitchen. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix.” But a cup of coffee can’t fix Vanessa. Dozed off early? My Vanessa was a night owl, up all night working on the latest novel or article she was writing. And when she wasn’t writing, she was reading. She used to say there was no better cure for writer’s block than insomnia because after a few nights of not sleeping, inspiration and creativity would begin to whisper in her ear for only then would she be mad enough to truly listen. “How is the book going? You haven’t let me read anything in a while.”
I return to the table with my coffee and watch her closely. She shrugs her shoulders, slowly chewing a piece of toast. “That’s because I haven’t written anything in a while.”
“Too wrapped up in the latest book you’re reading?” I prompt. “What could be so good that it keeps you away from your writing?”
A pause and then another shrug, “Nothing. I haven’t felt much like reading lately either. I fell asleep watching a movie.”
The room is filled with an awkward silence. I don’t know this person that is sitting across from me. The woman I love was left in Mexico and it is up to me to try to get her back.
YOU ARE READING
2013 NaNoWriMo Project
HororVanessa is an author. Her fiancé Rick, is a photographer. The two take a trip to Mexico during the annual Day of the Dead 3-day festival on a job assignment. When they return home, Rick starts noticing changes in Vanessa. But Vanessa thinks it is Ri...
