A Night At The Gala

Part 10: Burden's End

She was quite all the way home in the cab and well into the house. Though it's killing him, Max doesn't push or pry. He figures when his wife is ready, she will tell him what's going on. His mind is still trying to formulate a feasible reason however. Is it him? Is he stressing her out with all of his plans to help her? Or is it the marriage that literally bloomed in the last 12 hours? Maybe it's Kaia that has her worried and stressed out. Or possibly an underlying health issue she has no knowledge of. Whatever the reason, Max is still waiting for her to say something. Anything. Watching her walk up the steps with her purse and the diaper bag, he watches her struggle with her keys as she takes them out and tries to find the right one. He simply holds Luna and has her stroller collapsed in his left hand. When she gets the door open, she flicks on the light and Max heads up the front steps and into the house. She deafly removes her jacket and heels- places them neatly in their proper places by the door and sets Luna's diaper bag down and her purse so she can help Max. Instead of taking Luna like he expected her to, she takes the stroller instead and places it in her downstairs coat closet. Before take the bags upstairs and into her bedroom. It's weird. Having her be so quiet and acting like he's not even there in her home. The way she just skirts around him and his gaze as if he's a tree in the middle of a meadow and she needs to go around him to continue on her way. Removing his own shoes and and jacket without waking Luna, he goes upstairs and finds Helen in her room, removing her blouse to reveal her white camisole and then taking out her hoop earrings and other jewelry to place them on her vanity. Looking around, her room hasn't changed since last Friday. The grey duvet is still neatly pressed against the queen sized bed, shades drawn closed, bedside lamp still dimly illuminating the eggplant walls. All of it is the same, except Helen. Helen is clouded over and opaque. She's like a picture being taken in a very dark room with no way to enable the flash. Max just stands in the doorway watching his wife remove her skirt and place it in the hamper in the bathroom, along with her blouse. He notices the slight tremor in her hands and the way her knees seem to buckle just a bit if she stands in one place too long. He just watches her. Takes her in. Examines each distinct part of her. Then categorizes it in a special box in his mind for later use. When she slips into a pair of night shorts, she finally looks at him. Her face still blank and her bottom lip quivering inward as if she's cold. She finally speaks.

"She can sleep in between us tonight." That's all she says before climbing up into bed by the windows on the right side. It seems to be her side of the bed because she always ends up there. Which is fine by Max, because he's always slept on the left- what is with women and the right side of the bed? He asked his dad that after he was married to Georgia and he brought it up. He father said his mother has to sleep there as well. Women choose the right side of the bed because women are always right. That's the nugget of wisdom his dad shared with him that day. So, Helen is always right- even when she's wrong. Coming over, he lays Luna in the middle and gets in beside her. He wishes he was close to Helen so they could at least cuddle and share a good night kiss, but something tells him- it wouldn't be genuine right now anyway. Not with this weird mood she's in. Crawling under the covers, Max lays there and Helen switches the light switch above her bed frame and the room darkens. The only bit of light that comes in is from the street lamps outside shining through the small slits in the blinds. The only sound to be heard is from the few cars that pass on the snowy road. "Good night."

"Helen...is something upsetting you? Something I did or didn't do?" Helen remains quiet and listens for her there in the dark- her breath, the rustle of the sheets, her hair on the silk pillow cases. Anything. He listens and yet hears nothing from her. "Are you regretting...us?"

"No." She doesn't hesitate to answer- which makes him feel a bit better, but not fully.

"Okay...then...what?"

"I'm just...I just...I don't know, Max."

"Let's talk and figure it out then. Okay? Cause this morning and before we left, you were happy and excited and just...you. Now, you seem...distant and unhappy." He listens and hears nothing once more. "Just tell me..."