A Dead Heart Loved

It was just a little thing. Something stupid. Mostly me being overly sensitive and inconsiderate. But I got in bed irritated and didn't snuggle up close like usual. He knew something was wrong, and I knew he knew. Usually he'll ask what it is and I'll tell him and we'll work it out eventually, I thought. He tried to pull me close but I didn't want to. I wanted him to ask. But he just rolled over, and I steamed.

Who knows how much time went by? I never looked at the clock. Just steamed. He rolled back over and tried to pull me close again, but I didn't want to. I wanted him to ask. And I wasn't going to say anything until he did. That's not very mature. Why don't you just say something? He'll listen. Silence. But he should ask.

More time went by, but how much more I do not know. And I only got angrier, and his breathing only got heavier as he went in and out of sleep. And I just told the newlyweds to not go to bed angry. And here I am. But he should have asked.

More time spent in internal fits and struggles went by. He was certainly asleep by now. And I was nowhere near sleep of my own. It's hard when his steady breathing that usually lulls me to sleep only makes me more resentful. I knew I wouldn't get to sleep like this. He was surely asleep, so he wouldn't know if I snuggled up to his back and wrapped my arms around him and listened to his heartbeat. So I did. And then I was asleep.

The alarm went off and I was so tired. Then I remembered that I was mad. Happy Monday. Some text messages were exchanged. I sent the last one and he never responded. He thought everything was resolved. They weren't. Never try to resolve issues with texts. And I didn't hear anything else for the rest of that long, miserable day.

And what a day. Last minute appointments. Inconsiderate bullies. Email, after email, after email. Would she ever shut up. Why won't he just be polite. Another offer letter, another FedEx box, another investigator, another file, another phone call. But secretly, I was glad, because it kept me from thinking about him. But it gave me this soul-sucking feeling of separation from the man I love most. Not a text, not a word...that's all I wanted. But my pride wouldn't let me send any of my own.

5:00 came and I couldn't have been happier. But what was this? My coworker said something and it started a story and before I knew it, I was slouched back in her cube with my feet kicked out like I had nowhere else to be. Usually I leave as soon as I can. So what was this? It was something in my subconsciousness that said I didn't want to be home. I didn't want to go to him. It should have concerned me, but I didn't really think about it. He'll wonder why you aren't back yet. ..... Let him wonder.

I stood up, wishing her story wasn't over. I guessed it was time to leave. 30 minutes had gone by and I was in my car going home, my whole heart dull like it couldn't even feel. I was hardly mad anymore. Just wounded; just limp; just numb. I didn't even feel like he was at home waiting for me. I almost felt like he didn't exist. Like he was a memory from a long time ago. Or a very long day ago. I thought this must be a little bit like what people feel like whose spouses have died, but after they've had many years to get used to it. That scared me. Maybe I grieved, but I don't really know. Whatever my heart was feeling, I don't exactly remember feeling it before.

At the stop light. Maybe he'll have put flowers on the table and have dinner cooking and welcome me home with open arms and I'll melt into tears and everything will be better. ..... That's not going to happen.

I opened the door, and it was dark. He was taking a kind-of nap on the couch. No flowers, no dinner, no open arms. I could hardly see when I came in, and it was irritating. I tried to prepare myself for what would be the next 2 hours, but how can you?

Time passed, the tears flowed, the heart and soul were laid out bare. I felt ignored, I felt worthless, I felt unloved, even though all of those things were lies sent to corrupt. He said that in the darkness of that room, he should have asked. I said I shouldn't have had the stupid problem from the beginning. How did that minor detail turn into the deadness of heart I felt less than 24 hours later? He said I should have just said something, and I agreed. Because really, most of the problem was me all along.

Now that it was all over, I just wanted him, and I wanted him to make me feel those things he is best at making me feel. Valued, cherished, loved, adored. Everything was resolved, but in the flurry of those destructive emotions, my heart still felt dead, and I couldn't handle that anymore. I would love to be taken out to the town center for dinner just because. But to say that would defeat the purpose. I want him to do that, not me. Like the flowers, and the dinner, and the open arms, except those didn't happen. Just forget it and try to be happy again.

He said we could go out to dinner if I wanted. I could re-do my makeup and change my clothes and we could go out and walk there and hold hands it could be a date and it would be fun. Just if I wanted, but it's ok if I don't. I told him what I had thought. I told him I wasn't going to say anything. I told him he had done it again. He had astonished me, and my heart melted within.

My face was washed, my makeup was fresh, and I was wearing my new sparkly earrings. I felt beautiful and I felt happy. He took my hand and we walked. We laughed, we hugged, we kissed, and we were happy. We waited for our food and talked like we were dating. Because we were. He had won my numb heart over and I was his prize. He had done it again. He had really, truly, unconditionally loved me. And my heart could not sing louder.