It all felt like a blur. Like she was living in some twisted, cruel reality that she was subject to. She barely remembered the words Joe whispered as he walked out the door. The words that would be the last ones he ever spoke to her face.
And she didn't even know what they were.
Maybe it was because her eyes were glued to the floor. When someone's explaining why they don't love you anymore, it's hard to look them in the eye. But now she'd do anything to go back and take one last glimpse of his face. Then she could capture it in her mind, and tuck it away forever.
But now that moment was gone. And her eyes stayed glued to the floor. She hadn't moved in the past four hours. Maybe it was five, she had lost count. The ringing of the door slamming was still echoing, ricocheting off the walls of a cavern that one would call her mind.
Her legs were trembling at this point, but that was the last thing that she cared about. She didn't care as she fell down and somehow managed to crawl into their, no, her bedroom. She didn't care as she could barely feel her hands, achieving hypothermia in her heated house. She cared a little bit more when she collapsed in a pile of Joe's sweatshirts in the corner of the room, because at least they still smelled like him.
If she closed her eyes and inhaled in, she could lie and tell herself everything was okay. Joe was there, next to her, his hands wrapped around her waist. Murmuring encouraging words as he patted her back like he always did. She would reach her hand up to let her fingers run across his stubble like she always did.
It was difficult. Having so many habits to unlearn.
It took her a week to stop reaching for him in the middle of the night when she woke up from a nightmare. For the first time she found herself yearning to go back into the nightmare, since somehow it felt safer then out there.
It took her another week to delete his contact off of her phone. She didn't know why it took her so long. Maybe because when she had it, it felt like she still had a small glimmer of hope to hold onto that he would come back.
It took a month for that glimmer to fade.
She wished she said sorry. After the endless fights parading around the house, she never said sorry. So many opportunities, and she never said sorry. It seemed her words always got in the way.
"For fucks sake," Joe groaned, slamming his hands down on the kitchen counter. "I'm so fucking exhausted of having this argument with you every damn day."
"Well then stop starting this argument, 'every damn day'," Taylor said in a mocking tone.
Joe rubbed his temples, dragging his skin down as he covered his face with his hands, "I can't do this anymore, I just can't."
"Then don't," Taylor huffed, kicking the bottom of the kitchen stool. "It's not that hard."
And then he left. Taylor kicked herself every morning for not pleading for him to say, or just uttering the simple fucking words 'I'm sorry'.
__________
She didn't expect to hear from Patrick. Well, maybe she did. Just a quick call to say goodbye or check in. Now she doesn't even remember the last time she heard from him. She found herself missing his family. She missed Elizabeth's advice, Richard's energetic 'woops' as his favorite football team scored a goal, Tom's visit's back to London so they could all have a family dinner.
They were a family. Then suddenly they weren't anymore.
Mom 2/12/21 6:06 PM
Mom 2/12/21 8:34 PM
