“We need to talk,” she said, shaking me awake.
No matter how many times she woke me up this way, it never lost its shock factor. The thought of what laid ahead made my already racing heart beat faster. I let out a moan and took a deep breath.
She wore that accusatory smirk I hated so much. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
“No, babe.” I tried keeping a patient tone. “What’s happened since last night? I thought things were cool when we said good night.” When would this bullshit end?
Narrowing her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbow. “I’m not going to keep living like this,” she began. “As much as I hate starting your day like this,” her sarcastic tone was anything but apologetic; “I can’t pretend there’s nothing wrong.”
Sometimes I felt like ripping that look off of her face. I failed to repress my bewildered look, even though I knew it would fuel her fire. Now what? Was this going to be a repeat of last night, or had she latched onto some other irrational idea? Not knowing where to begin, I waited for her to continue.
“I just can’t stomach playing second fiddle all the time.”
“Babe, you know there’s no one else. We’ve been over this,” I pleaded. “I don’t know how else to prove this to you.” Or why I had to continuously be subjected to this unmerited jealousy and paranoia, I reflected. I leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I love you, silly. When are you going to let that sink in?” It took every ounce of self-control to keep my tone and expression patient. Aaaaaaggggggghhhhhh!
“I’m sorry,” she said. And I knew in the most ridiculous way, she meant it.
“Why don’t we grab breakfast after I hit the shower?”
She nodded and left me alone with my thoughts.
While I showered, I sorted through my frustrated feelings. How much more could one person take? Every time I let my guard down, the shit started up again. Even though I knew that it was insane to continue doing the same thing, expecting a different outcome, I was lost for a solution, or resolution, or whatever it was I needed to do to make this madness stop.
She was already waiting for me in the car. With my smile in place, I greeted her expectant expression. I leaned over the console and playfully kissed her.
Letting out a sigh, she pulled away from me. “We need to talk,” she began.
Just a circular narrative exercise I came across that made me smile.