- 3.
I staved in the hospital for a week.
く
When the doctor said I was fine, I finally went
home.
Greg didn’t call once, and I didn’t bother
looking at Instagram to see where him and
Brittany were gallivanting off to next.
I opened the door to find Greg standing in the
living room.
He had his phone in his hand and looked up
at me with a frown.
“I told you to stay home. Where’d you go?”
He put his phone away, so he was probably
going to call me.
Unless I wasn’t doing what he wanted, he
wouldn’t give me the time of day.
く
“I fell down the stairs and just got out of the
hospital. What’s up?”
Greg started to say something, then stopped.
He sat down on the couch, rubbing his
forehead.
“I’m hungry. Make me something to eat.”
I ignored him and headed upstairs.
He kicked his suitcase, then yelled, “! Is
that how a wife should act?”
I grabbed the railing and turned to face him.
“Who’s your wife? Isn’t it Brittany?”
I went upstairs.
く
I heard him kick the coffee table.
I locked the bedroom door. He hasn’t been in
there in forever.
I rested for a bit, then woke up the next day.
I would have rushed downstairs to make him
breakfast and pack his things.
But Greg always finds something to complain
about.
The clothes I picked out suck, the food I
made was too boring.
I’m not high–class enough for him.
So I wasn’t going to try anymore.
But downstairs, Greg was cleaning up the
glass he broke last night.
He looked up when I came down, then looked
away.
“I know Dad’s death hit you hard, but I came
back for you yesterday. Are you still jealous
of Brittany?”
Yesterday?
“Five days late counts as coming back for
me?”
Greg dropped the broom. “You don’t
remember what day it was? You forgot our
anniversary?”
He pointed at a gift box on the couch. “You
barely try with me, and then you try to
compare yourself to Brittany…”
He stopped.
He looked at my smile as I reminded him, “It
was two days ago, Greg.”
Greg looked awkward, so he changed the
subject. “You said you fell down the stairs?
What happened?”
“I was taking care of dad’s funeral, and then I
was on the beach all night. I didn’t eat
anything, so I passed out.”
“Brittany’s altitude sickness was more
important. It’s fine.”
Greg bit his lip, his hand hanging awkwardly
<
“Are you hungry? I made reservations at that
French restaurant you love.”
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m
tired.”
“And I don’t like French food.”
“I’m a small–town girl. I can’t handle raw stuff.
I’m allergic.”
I didn’t want to deal with his pity.
