So Long

I walked through the door, expecting to hear dinner. It had been left slightly ajar and the house was silent. “Hello?” I called into the darkness. I lay my keys down on the table and got a glass of water. You promised you’d be home. Upstairs I hear the floorboards creaking. “Hello?” The creaks turn to heavy steps, slowly shuffling down the hall. My breathing becomes shallow; I am not brave like you. “Hello?” I croak. I cannot disguise my fear. The footsteps stop. Being calm is not my strong point but I manage to navigate my way to the phone. I begin dialing your number and the footsteps return, eagerly making their way to the stairs. My fingers must have tripled in size because I can’t dial the right numbers. Tears begin to well in my eyes. You promised you’d be home.

My body begins to fold into itself on the floor and I wonder; when did I become this woman? My home is dark and empty besides myself and the footsteps. And I lay crumpled on the kitchen floor. I am afraid but I can manage. I am disappointed, even that I can manage. But, I am alone. And that I cannot fathom. Is this what happens when you’ve molded your existence around the person you love? I look up and realize the footsteps have reached the kitchen and are watching me from the doorway. Quietly, I dissolve into panic but never look away.

The light flickers on and I hear someone scream, ravenously. You said you’d be home, and there you are. “Did I scare you?” You ask me gently. You sit on the cold tile next to me and take my hand. “What the hell were you doing?” I cannot disguise my exasperation. “I have a surprise for you.”

You carry me up the stairs as I try to steady my breathing. You’ve never carried me anywhere.