Coffee

Part Sixty-Four: Carol Of The Bells

***December 24th***

The smell of pancakes rouses me from my sleep. The dogs are already downstairs as well as the master chef himself. The last two days have been odd. Max is quieter than normal and is still in doubt over everything- though he doesn't explicitly come out and say it to me.

The other night hurt- watching him break down from fear and self loathing. I honestly never seen a man so broken and hurt before that I'm slightly haunted by it now. How am I to fix him.

He was right.

On both occasions.

I was mad and upset, but in all honesty: I had no reason to be...well at least not any good reason.

So I did lie to Max, but only for his own good.

Wrapping my robe around me, I head downstairs quietly and am not the least bit surprised to find Max having made breakfast and is now watching the dogs run around outside. From behind, he seems smaller- shoulders more rounded, arms not as defined and hair patchy in several places. Walking to him, I wrap my arms around his right arm and look up at him.

"Good morning, Darling. How are you?" I lovingly ask and he glances down at me briefly with a small smile and then focuses back on the dogs.

"I'm okay." Since his breakdown, he has been very short with me. It pains me deeply. I wish he felt better both emotionally and physically. I wish he let me in like he used too.

"Have you eaten?" He refuses to use his tube in front of me or anyone else for that matter. He thinks it's disgusting and unnecessary, but it's vital and doesn't bother me as much as he thinks it does.

"...Yes..."

"I hope so- because you're losing weight, Baby. I'm worried..."

"It's fine." He snaps slightly and I would normally step back from such an aggressive form of communication, but I will myself to stay clinging to him like moss on a stream's rock. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I know you're managing everything the best you can."

"And it's not enough. Is it?" His voice is low and growling.

"I didn't say that." I kindly reassure him, by sliding in front of him and placing my palms flat on his chest, but he quickly grabs them by the wrists and pushes them away.

"You didn't have too. You never have to say anything- because your face says it all very clearly." He releases my wrists and walks over to the kitchen to clean up the mess he made. My chest heaves slightly. He is beyond angry this morning. Could be a chemo mood swing, could be he's just mad at me, or more so himself.

"Max, are you..." I step towards him and he puts his palm flat towards me to ward me off and I stop.

"Don't! You're not my doctor any more! So just stop trying to act like it!" His voice echoes and I try my best to push the reverberations from my head.

"No, but I am your girlfriend, who cares and loves you. I just want to..."

"No! Just shut up and eat your breakfast and don't act so stupid!" Shock pours over my face and I gape at him. Eyebrows furrowing and heart breaking- I can't believe him. The dogs are at the door and I let them in. Wiping their paws, I try to calm my nerves so not to cry. When the dogs are dried off, Sophie wiggles her way up to Max at the sink and she jumps on the back of his knee, which gently sends it into the counter. She always does this and he laughs and scoops her up- but not today. "Stop! Go lay down!"

"Max, you stop! You're being mean. She's not doing anything wrong, but trying to love on you." I scold him and he tosses the scrub brush in the sink- it clangs against the steel basin and he grips the edges of the sink. "I'm just trying to love on you and...."