I waited at home for Kyle, staring at the TV screen even though it wasn’t even on. I kept playing out in my head how I’d handle it when he got home, but when he actually got back, I felt this sudden anger rising up. I wasn’t even pissed that he’d lost his job anymore, I was pissed that he’d lied to me.
“You okay?” he asked. I knew he’d have one eyebrow slightly raised from the tone of his voice and didn’t turn around.
"Tired. Why're you staring at the TV?"
“You lied to me,” I snapped, deviating almost immediately from the little script I’d had in my head.
“What?” Was he playing dumb or something? Did he think I was that fucking stupid?
“I had to find out from someone at the restaurant that you got fired. Did it not cross your mind to tell me at all?”
"I didn't want you to get worried."
“You didn’t think I’d find out somehow? What’ve you even been doing the past week when you’ve said you’ve been working?” I was doing my best to keep myself from yelling. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d last.
"Looking for another job."
“Have you found one?”
"Sort of. It doesn't pay as well as my old one, but I'm still looking.”
“Y’know, I’m not even angry at you for losing your job. It’s not like I can’t support us both. I just can’t believe you lied to me. Am I really that hard to talk to?”
"No. But like I said, I didn't want you to worry."
“I wouldn’t have worried!” I shouted.
"Don't yell at me," he frowned.
“Is there anything else you’ve been keeping from me?” I asked, ignoring him and still yelling, getting louder to fight with the noise in my head, “y’know, before I find out from someone else that my husband doesn’t fucking tell me things.” He sort of glared at me and walked off into the kitchen. That doesn’t answer my question, Kyle. “Well?” I followed him, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, suddenly quite aware of how small I was compared to him.
Not that I needed to be concerned about it really, considering he was ignoring me. He drank some of the beer he’d gotten out of the fridge and before I could think about what I was doing I’d grabbed it from him and thrown it in the sink.
“Well?” I repeated myself, louder than before.
"Stop fucking yelling at me," he shouted back at me. A flicker of the fear I had for him warned me to back off, but I didn’t want to. I hadn’t lied to him about anything. I’d bared my fucking all to him and I didn’t feel like I knew anything about him anymore.
“Answer the goddamn question then,” I screamed at him, wishing for a moment that I was bigger so I could scare him like he scared me. Like the thought of him slipping away from me scared me.
"No, there's nothing else I've been keeping from you." With that, he stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. I raged at him through the door for a while until I was all out of steam.
After that, I spent my night somewhere between the sofa and the floor with a needle pushed into a vein.
Having fallen asleep on the sofa, it was a bit odd to wake up in the doorway of the bedroom all curled up. I think I was woken up by Kyle stepping over me. When I looked up, he was making himself something for breakfast. I sat up, watching him plant himself down on the sofa to eat and drink his coffee.
“Get out of my bed,” I croaked at him, stumbling over and trying to push him off the sofa. He just got up and went back into the bedroom. I wanted to steal the comforter but it was too late to do that, so I just cocooned myself in the blanket I’d gotten out last night and curled back up in the corner of the sofa like a pile of emo.
Kyle emerged to shower and wash up his breakfast stuff, only glancing at me on the way back to the bedroom. I looked away from him.
The next thing I knew, he was dressed and going out somewhere. Guess I’ll just sit here, then.