A World That Is Not Mine

V.

Rick entered their bedroom---only to see Stevie scribbling away in her journal. He stood in the doorway a moment to admire her. He loved her, he thought she was gorgeous and he loved the life they had created prior to their son dying, but their son dying---just tore them apart. He so desperately wanted to help her and he wanted to cope with her and he wanted to be her coping mechanism, but he just wasn't. He was like her enemy and he hated that.

"It's not polite to stare," her eyes never left the page she was writing on. She could've have said nicer things, but she didn't want to be vial or vulgar.

"Sorry, I still like to look at you---I love you, y'know?"

She shut her eyes and let off a light huff. "Mm, is that why you took me to a shrink? because, you love me enough to put me on drugs?" she said calmly, still writing her notes for tomorrow's schedule. She had one task, contacting her son.

"Dear God, Stephanie, you're so dramatic!" he nearly growled. "It was to help you calm down. I was never going to let her put you on medication. You can't make someone take medication if they don't want it."

"But you think, I need medicine?" she looked up, eyes looking over her glasses.

"No!"

"Well, you just admitted that to me, so I don't see the need to continue this conversation," she shut her journal and place it in her drawer, that had a combination. She didn't trust her husband enough---not in the last seven years at least, had she. She knew her husband to be a snoop and her journal was the only thing she had.

"Where are you going?" he watched her roam the bedroom and rummage through her dresser drawers.

"I'm gonna run a hot bath---is that okay with you? or do you wanna make sure, I'm not trying to drown myself?" she held a silk tank top and shorts set in her hand and fuzzy socks to go along. She placed it on the dresser for a moment, to clip her hair up. Not for one second did she stop giving her husband a look that could kill.

"Go ahead," he gestured.

"You're a doll, you should get to sleep---you have work tomorrow," she grabbed her belongings and headed for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, she locked it as well. She dimmed the lights and lit some candles, just to get a warm set going. It was the winter time and she was just trying to be cozy, not to mention calm her raging thoughts. She knew she could do so many things to her husband, but she wasn't going to. She did love him a lot, but she had already decided things would be different. She was not going to take orders from him.

On the other side of the door, Rick was changing into some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He got in to his side of the bed and thought about some phone calls he had to make the next day. His mind was always working on the next day---even though he was upset about hurting his wife. He was really just trying to help her.

~

The next morning would arrive and Stevie would get up moderately early. She was preparing, yet another way to talk to her son---she knew she had to.

—

Meanwhile, at work, Rick was in his office going about his day. He had several things to do but the only thing on his mind was his spouse at home. He was imagining all the things she could be doing. He was afraid that one day, he would come home and she would be dead or something. He hated how wild she got, when she was stuck on one thing. She became obsessive. When she was crocheting---he didn't mind, when she was making her own baby food---he didn't mind. But the rituals and incantations, that had to stop. He was believing, she was going to make him crazy. He didn't even know what was going through her mind, when she kept saying their son wasn't dead. He was so lost and he didn't know what to think. He had come across the thought of her being on drugs. But still not logical and he would have to frame her. He hated that his day was spent thinking of what dangerous thing, his wife was doing. He was honestly glad they didn't have any kids because, his wife could be one herself.