The Attic

Chapter 15 - Diary Entry No. 5

Date: February 2, 2003

Time: 10:18 P.M.

Dear Diary,

                Got a call from my boss today. He asked how the project was going. I told him that everything’s fine. But if he’d asked how my life was, I would’ve answered differently. I’m not even sure if I could call this life. By the way, when I told my boss that I’m doing great on my design, I lied. I’ll tell you about it. I curse this day.

                Nothing’s alive in this house. And I thought everything will work out fine now that we’re closer to each other. I’ve tried setting my alarm to wake me up the same time as Stella gets up. Fuck sleep, I told myself, I’ll just go back to bed after she’d left for work. For once I’ve decided to man up and spend more time with my girl, even if it’s only breakfast when I get to be with her.

                 I missed the alarm.

                Hell, I’m not even sure if it rang. Stella would’ve shaken me from my sleep thinking that I wouldn’t set a wakeup call if there’s nothing important to do. I guessed she must have left her side of the bed before my cell buzzed off. It then became like any of my ordinary days - me, alone in the house, my breakfast waiting for me.

                Maybe I’m overdoing this, don’t you think? My work? I’m starting to think that I’m putting so much effort into this project that my life revolves only around it, at least until it’s done. Actually, I’m quite convinced that this project isn’t what’s bugging this relationship.

                It’s me - me and my lack of priority sense.

                I thought I’ve learned time management during my college days, but working on an actual design that would rise from the ground up shows that I have much to learn still. Not that I’m not confident with my skills. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve accomplished harder designs than this. What I lack in my opinion is time for myself. God, I haven’t been out of the house since I can’t remember. Stella’s been doing all the shopping and the bills. I just noticed one day that our fridge was replenished with contents from the grocery store and the papers pinned on the cork board gone. I assume she’s taken care of the electric and water bill. I know I should be the one doing this, but she beat me to it.

                There’s a lot of stuff going on in my head as I’m writing this. I’m pretty certain that you’re already bored listening to just how crap I am every time I make an entry. So I figured I’m going to tell you something else. I didn’t want to write about this, but I guess it’s all I have, and I’ve got to give you something or writing about how bad of a live-in partner I am redundantly would make me a dull song on repeat.

                Do you remember when I said that she never complains? Well, she broke her silence for the very first time. She stormed my office earlier when she got home. You see, this is why I’m writing an entry tonight. I wouldn’t have because you know well how busy I am and I seldom flip this journal to a clean page where I could record how I fared so far since my last entry.

                I could tell you that I’m lost.

                Stella came home today rubbing it in my face how insensitive I am towards her. I figured that she’s finally reached her limit and that it’s undoubtedly my fault. She was close to raging at me while I remained seated, not wanting to fight fire with fire despite the increase in her tone. She wanted to yell at me, but I saw that she struggled to stay calm. Unfortunately, I got irritated that she chose to argue with me while I was working, so I shouted back.

                That was my mistake.

                I never wanted to make her cry, but I did. Unintentionally, but I still did. I dropped my pen and followed her when she ran up the stairs. I apologized repeatedly as we raced along the flights but only until she locked me out of our bedroom. I pounded heavily on the door but all I heard was her sobbing and I panicked when I heard her say that she’s going to kill herself. I fearfully begged her to unlock the door but it remained closed. Yelling at her would only make things worse, so I said sorry one last time and waited for her to open up. I stood outside the room for a couple of minutes until I heard footsteps heading towards the door. She finally decided to get out but it wasn’t for me. I was about to hug her but she stopped me as she bumped me by the shoulder and headed downstairs.

                I should’ve stopped her by then.

                I heard my office door squeak before I decided to follow her down the first floor. I didn’t know what business she had in there but I was halfway there to find out when I smelled something burning. Worried that a fire just started, I quickly checked the kitchen. There was no gas leak, just the smell of something burnt. I was surprised to even have smelled it despite being faint. After finding nothing sort of a hazard, I decided to check on Stella, something I now think I should’ve done earlier.

                She was rooted to a spot as tear were rolling down her cheeks when I came in. The burnt smell got stronger the moment I entered the office and which assured me that something’s literally being reduced to ash. As I stepped closer, I noticed the metal bin closest to my work desk glowing with orange inside. I saw a lighter on Stella’s hand and wondered what she did.

                I almost lost my mind when I realized what was being kindled.

                I tried to save what was left of the design in desperation. I knew well that a single blot was unacceptable in architectural works let alone a mere cigarette burn but I kept on digging through the flame to salvage anything. All those hours of staying up late and tracing lines were reduced to nothing. For all it’s worth, I’m doomed. She just stood there watching me as I dipped my hand into the burning trash bin, weeping like a kid. The thing was already too hot for me to endure and I was sweating heavily due to mixed shock and anger. Had she not been the one I loved, I would’ve killed her. I went out to cool myself with some fresh air. She was gone when I returned. I found out that she burned along my early drafts which I thought I could use to base my next attempt.

                I couldn’t forgive her for her childishness but I couldn’t possibly blame her either. I thought she understood me. She didn’t have to do what she did. You agree, right?

                We haven’t spoken until now. She’s upstairs, probably crying herself to sleep while I’m here trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to redo everything after I received a call from my boss about an hour ago checking on me and the design.

                I know.

                I’m screwed.

                God help me.