A week went by and it felt like the longest fuckin’ week of my life, and the worst part was that every day blended into the next like we was trapped inside the same argument that never ended. The mansion felt too big and too quiet at the same time. The halls felt cold even when the sun was hittin’ through all them big ass windows, and every time I walked past our bedroom door it felt like somebody was puttin’ pressure on my chest. I kept sleepin’ in the guest room ‘cause I couldn’t keep lettin’ Kay’Lo pull me back into that cycle of apology, chaos, apology, then chaos again. I loved him, but lovin’ him was startin’ to make me feel like I was losin’ myself.
At night, I could hear him pacin’ on the other side of the house. His footsteps would go back and forth, steady, then faster when his mind slipped into whatever space it kept draggin’ him to. I would lay there with my eyes open, starin’ at the ceilin’, listenin’ to him mumble to himself. It would start with frustration, then turn into anger, then confusion, then silence, then sometimes this soft whisper of my name like he ain’t even realize he was sayin’ it. Every time I heard that, I would curl up tighter in the bed and tell myself not to go check on him ‘cause I knew if I touched him or looked at him too long, I would fold all over again.
Every mornin’ was the same shit. He would knock real soft on the guest bedroom door, then open it slow like he was scared of what version of me he was ‘bout to see. He’d ask if I needed anything or if I wanted breakfast or if I wanted to ride with him to his shop, ‘Lo Motion. Sometimes he wouldn’t even talk. Hewould just stand there leanin’ in the doorway lookin’ like he ain’t slept in days, rubbin’ the back of his head while his eyes stayed stuck on me like he was scared to blink. And I would talk to him soft, ‘cause no matter how mad I was, I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel. I would tell him I was alright. I would tell him I needed space. I would tell him I wasn’t ready to be in the same bed with him until he agreed to get some real help, and he would nod like he heard me, but I knew he wasn’t really hearin’ me at all.
By midweek, the arguments got worse. He started pacin’ the house more. He would slam a cabinet or throw a glass when he got overwhelmed, then immediately try to clean it up while apologizin’ over and over. “Baby I’m tryin’,” he kept sayin’. “I ain’t tryna scare you. I’m just...” But the second I told him again that he needed medicine or needed to talk to somebody professional, he shut right down like I was attackin’ him.
“You tryna call me crazy,” he snapped one night, his voice shakin’. “You tryna put a label on me. I ain’t no fuckin’ project, Toni. I’m a man.”
“And a man can get help” I told him, but he turned his face away like the words stung.
We slept apart again.
Every room in the house felt like tension was hiding’ in the corners. Every meal was quiet. Every hug turned into him holdin’ me too tight, grippin’ my arms like he was afraid I would disappear. And I started feelin’ guilty just for wantin’ some peace. I felt guilty for breathin’ different and for not rushin’ to his side every moment he stumbled.
By the seventh day, I realized I couldn’t stay here like this. I couldn’t watch the man I loved unravel and pretend I wasn’t unravelin’ right along with him. He wasn’t choosin’ this, but neither was I, and if he refused to get help, then one of us had to save ourselves.
So that night I walked into the guest room with my small suitcase, the same one I kept packin’ then unpackin’ all week. My hands felt heavy while I grabbed clothes from the closet, foldin’ them slow ‘cause every piece of fabric felt like a memory. My chest hurt and my throat felt tight, but I kept movin’. I had to. If I stopped, I knew I would fall apart and run right back to him.
While I packed, the house was quiet in that eerie way where you knew the silence wasn’t real. Kay’Lo hadn’t said two words to me since earlier when we had another argument about him needin’ medicine. He kept tellin’ me I ain’t understand him. He kept sayin’ he wasn’t weak, and I kept tryna explain that needin’ help didn’t make him weak, but nothin’ got through to him.
I had just zipped the bag halfway when I heard somethin’ downstairs.
At first, it sounded like he dropped something. It was a small crash. Then somethin’ heavier hit the floor. Then his voice, low, angry, then breakin’, then risin’ again like he was fightin’ with somebody who wasn’t even there.
“Man get the fuck back,” he muttered. “Stop playin’ with me. I ain’t stupid. I know what the fuck goin’ on.”
My hands froze on the suitcase handle.
Then came the pacin’, but this time. I heard heavy footsteps draggin’ across the marble floor, then speedin’ up, then stoppin’ all at once.
“Fuck!” he snapped, his voice risin’ so sharp it made my heart jump.
I stepped out into the hallway and listened. His voice was shaky now.
My chest tightened so hard it pushed tears straight to my eyes. I leaned against the doorway and covered my mouth, tryna muffle the sound of my breathin’ ‘cause the last thing he needed was to hear me cryin’. But hearin’ him like this…hearin’ the manI loved fight a battle inside his mind that I couldn’t see or fix, felt like somethin’ was tearin’ open inside me.
He started pacin’ again, this time faster, his footsteps echoin’ up the steps like each one carried a different argument with himself. Something’ else fell over. Glass broke. He cursed. Then I heard him shove somethin’ heavy across the floor.
“Stop muthafucka,” he whispered, his voice raw.
And that was when I knew…
I couldn’t stay in this house with him like this.
I walked back into the room and grabbed the bag fully zipped this time. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand even though new ones kept formin’. I loved him more than I loved my own reflection, but love wasn’t enough to keep either of us sane right now.
As I picked up the bag, the floor below shook hard like he slammed somethin’ big. Then I heard him breathin’ loud and rough like he was choking on air.
Then he shouted my name.
“Toni!”
My knees buckled.
He wasn’t callin’ me like he needed comfort.
He was callin’ me like I was the only lifeline he had left.
