[for Natalya]
Jun. 15th, 2014 01:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
manwithoutfearThe bed is cold and Zeus is whimpering.
I try to stay asleep, denial of the inevitable a powerful motivator. As long as I don’t wake up, I can convince myself this is just a dream. Ellen is awake in the next room, feeding the baby. Zeus is upset because she closed the door behind her, trapping him inside with me. The comfort of dreaming makes the lie sound too much like the truth. My heart doesn’t even skip a beat, it’s so convincing.
But then Alex starts to cry — starts to shriek — for his mother, and the illusion is shattered within the space of two breaths.
I ought to be angry. I ought to shout and scream and try to find someone to hit, because there’s always someone to hit. Instead I swallow down all the hurt and fear, and get out of bed to take care of a screaming infant.
I get Alex through the usual morning routine, the dog glued to my side all the while. I don’t have the heart to push him away. I’m numb, body on autopilot while my mind checks out, and as long as he’s not under my feet, he can stay there.
She left me with our six-month-old son and her damn dog. She just left. The idea strikes me as absurd hours later, and I start to laugh, a big, belly laugh that bounces off the walls, filling my ears with incredulity, and I’m still laughing when there’s a knock at the door.
I try to stay asleep, denial of the inevitable a powerful motivator. As long as I don’t wake up, I can convince myself this is just a dream. Ellen is awake in the next room, feeding the baby. Zeus is upset because she closed the door behind her, trapping him inside with me. The comfort of dreaming makes the lie sound too much like the truth. My heart doesn’t even skip a beat, it’s so convincing.
But then Alex starts to cry — starts to shriek — for his mother, and the illusion is shattered within the space of two breaths.
I ought to be angry. I ought to shout and scream and try to find someone to hit, because there’s always someone to hit. Instead I swallow down all the hurt and fear, and get out of bed to take care of a screaming infant.
I get Alex through the usual morning routine, the dog glued to my side all the while. I don’t have the heart to push him away. I’m numb, body on autopilot while my mind checks out, and as long as he’s not under my feet, he can stay there.
She left me with our six-month-old son and her damn dog. She just left. The idea strikes me as absurd hours later, and I start to laugh, a big, belly laugh that bounces off the walls, filling my ears with incredulity, and I’m still laughing when there’s a knock at the door.