He was carefully gluing the pieces of his mini Westminster Abbey back together. At his elbow was the glass shoe I had ruined last night, whole once again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Flynn didn’t say anything. He didn’t acknowledge that he heard me at all. But his hands paused for a second before continuing his task.
I sat down on the other side of the table and waited for him to look at me. We sat in complete silence for another twenty minute until he put the sculpture to the side, once the pieces were all glued back together.
“Are you going to talk to me?” I asked.
“Do you want some coffee? I’m going to make some,” Flynn said, getting to his feet.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I replied, watching him disappear into the kitchen. I absently scratched Murphy’s head, feeling completely wretched.
Flynn came back a few minutes later with my cup of coffee, just how I liked it.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the mug from him.
Flynn resumed his seat at the table and opened up a container of clay, pulling out a lump and flattening it in front of him.
My frustration mounted. “We need to talk about what happened last night, Flynn,” I said sharply.
Flynn rolled the clay between his palms. “Why?” he asked and I wanted to throttle him.
“Because we had a fight! We need to talk about it! We can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen,” I fumed. Flynn smacked the wet clay on the worktop with a slap and looked up at me…finally.
“You upset me last night, Ellie. You made me really, really mad. And you hurt my feelings. You broke my sculpture and my mom’s glass shoe. She loved that glass shoe. I tried to glue it back together but there are pieces missing. I can’t find them.”
He pushed the reconstructed figurine towards me. “Look at it! It’s different now. It won’t ever be the same. Because you broke it. You threw it against a wall because you were mad. I don’t know why you were mad at me. I was the one who was mad. You didn’t call me. You came home drunk. I should have been mad. Not you,” he stated as though the subject were closed.
“I was wrong, I understand that. But you’re kind of frustrating sometimes, Flynn,” I argued, knowing that I sounded incredibly immature.
Flynn’s brows scrunched together. “I’m frustrating? I wasn’t drunk. You were.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I know that. But you think I’m just supposed to wait here for you to come home? That every single day of our lives is supposed to be the same? Because I can’t live like that, Flynn! I just can’t!” My voice started to rise and Flynn’s face began to flush red. He buried his fingers in the clay and balled up his fists.
“You live with me. We’re supposed to be together in the evenings. I know when you get a job that will change. But I like having dinner with you. I thought you liked it too!” He was getting upset again. This was heading towards dangerous territory.
His mention of my lack of job fueled the blaze. “I do like having dinner with you, Flynn! But not every goddamned fucking night!” I declared.
“I hate it when you cuss,” Flynn muttered.
“And I hate it when you’re completely inflexible!” I fired back.
“I’m trying not to be!” he stated, rolling the clay into a ball. His movements fluid.
I sighed, knowing we were getting nowhere. I was feeling overwhelmed. My head hurt and the last thing I wanted was to get into another screaming argument that ended with Flynn throwing things and me feeling like a total asshole for provoking him.
I was starting to feel…trapped.
“I’m going to New York,” I said suddenly.
Flynn nodded. “I know. We’re planning the trip,” he said.
I braced myself and then continued. “No, I’m going to New York by myself.”
Flynn looked confused and bewildered. “No, Ellie, we’re going together. We talked to Leonard about it, remember?”
“I know that was the original plan, but I think…” I took a deep breath. “I think I need to go by myself. I need a break. I need to think about some things and get my head on straight.”
