Jack Avery
➵
I fall against the door, shutting it with my back.
I try holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut but that obviously doesn't stop tears from coming.
Dread blocks up my chest. I try to hold it in... but I break. Sobs ring in the air of the small space next to the front door.
After several minutes pass, I draw myself to my feet and shuffle into the kitchen, willing myself not to break down again.
And then I see a stack of bills on the kitchen counter.
My vision becomes cloudy again.
My attention drifts numbly to the sink. Dirty dishes sit in and around it.
I walk over to the mess, turning on the water, knowing I should already be working on my paper instead of cleaning.
For some reason, that thought makes me sob harder than I had before.
I don't register the sound of the front door closing until it's too late to dry away the tears.
"Baby?" Jack's voice, concerned, behind me.
I bite my lip and try to stop shaking.
Why are you hiding your emotions from him? You need his help. You can't do this alone. Not this time.
"Honey, what's wrong?" I hear his footsteps coming closer.
I turn off the faucet and turn to face him, knowing my face is streaked with water and contorted in stress.
Jack's eyes widen and I can tell he doesn't know if he should comfort me or keep his distance.
"Baby...."
He trails off, just staring at me.
"There's too much," I say, shaking my head. My simple statement comes out as a whimper.
I break down again. This time I fall into Jack instead of crumpling into myself.
We hit the floor and he grabs onto the back of my neck as the gravity of the situation I'm in hits me with full force.
"What needs to be done?" Jack whispers gently in my ear after several minutes have passed.
"Too much," I say again, breathless, and exhausted.
"Just tell me, (y/n). I need you to try so I can understand. Try. Please."
"There... we have bills everywhere. We can barely afford this house and yet we're both working so hard... and then my college bills... I'm digging us a pit that we can't get out of. The house is a mess. I feel like my whole life is a mess. That paper that I spent the past two afternoons writing... I had my professor check it today and he told me I took the essay question in an incorrect direction and that... that I need to rewrite it all and hand it in by tomorrow, the due date, no mercy or grace given whatsoever."
Jack takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
"I just... I have no motivation to do anything," I whisper.
Silence grips the atmosphere of the room, along with my heart, for a long time.
"What do you want to do?" Jack asks me, again, gently.
"I don't want to do any of it. I'm just so...."
I don't finish my sentence and I don't cry anymore. All I do is stare at the hardwood floor.
Jack pulls me into a hug, his head resting on top of mine.
"Do you need to write this paper?" he says.
"Yes," I say, after I force myself to take several controlled breaths. "I know I need to."
"Okay," he says, "then here's what you're going to do. You're going to go back to our bedroom and change into something comfortable. Put your hair up, wear sweats, take off your makeup," he says gently, holding my face in one hand.
"Then you'll come in here and sit at the kitchen table and write your paper. I won't be of any help because I'm absolutely clueless in the area of your studies."
That makes me laugh, just a little.
"However, I will be here the entire time, so if you need me, I'll be ready to help in any way I possibly can. Please don't worry about making dinner; I'll take care of it. And I'll clean the house while you zip right through this paper, okay?"
I stare into his eyes. How did I ever get so lucky to have someone who cares about my well being so much?
"Okay," I repeat.
"And don't worry about the bills. I'm not ever leaving your side and I won't ever leave you in something too deep that you can't handle. You're strong. We're strong together and we'll get through this, no matter what."
I nod, he kisses my forehead, and then I stand, ready to work.
