Everything Has Changed: Book Four

Chapter Three: 5AM

Chapter Three: 5AM

Thunder crackles loudly outside and I roll over in bed. I can hear the rain pelting against the window and sigh, staring at the clock.

5:22AM.

Danny and I made a promise a long time ago that we would never go to sleep if we were mad at each other.

Now I'm in bed wide awake, as I have been since I hung up the phone, and he's clear across the country probably fast asleep.

I stare at his empty side of the bed and reach over to feel the sheets like I do every morning, but they're ice cold.

It hurts to be awake knowing my little girl is going to wake up in an hour hoping to see her Daddy, and he's not here.

It's starting to feel like he's never coming back. I'm mad at him for not understanding, and honestly, I'm sure the woman he's working for won't mind if he misses a few days here and there to visit his damn family.

He has young children and a wife.

You would think she would understand that, but maybe she does.

Maybe my husband doesn't.

I roll over to shove my face in the pillow, jumping slightly at the sound of the thunder booming.

I shake my head and sit up, rubbing my face.

I just don't understand.

Danny and I have been long distance before, for seven years. Sure, we were just friends back then, but we handled it fine.

So my question is, why is it so difficult now?

It's a stupid question. It's difficult because we have two kids together. Because we're married and for the past thirteen years, we've been in a relationship. I've seen him almost every single day for thirteen years.

But now I haven't seen him in five months.

Five months of communicating with a four year old and a two year old, both of which don't understand adult things.

Two months ago I popped a tire on the side of the interstate and I had to call a tow truck.

A fucking tow truck.

Two and a half years ago I was with Emily when she was younger and I got a flat when I was an hour and a half home.

Back then, I called my husband.

When something breaks, I called my husband. When I couldn't reach something, I called my husband. When the kids were acting up, I called my husband.

Now? I call a professional or I call my Dad or Caleb. When I can't reach something, I get a chair. When the kids are acting up, I have to figure out a way to solve it myself.

I have to sit here and console our babies when they're crying because they miss their Daddy.

But at the end of the day, who is there to console me? Who's there to watch movies with me? I take care of my kids when they're sick, but who takes care of me?

People always say to nap when the kids are sleeping, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when my house is almost five thousand square feet? That's my chance to do laundry or clean the kitchen, or do something else I need to take care of first.

And then at night I sit up staring at my husbands spot in the bed, and it hurts to walk around this house. This house that took me two years to design from everything down to the pattern of the wood floor and the exact position the furniture sits.