“I don’t like being mad at you, Flynn. It sucks,” I agreed.
Flynn shook his head, looking sad. “Yeah, it does suck.”
He had reached around me and picked up a fork that was lying on the counter. He dug it in the lasagna that was still on the stove where I had left it after taking it from the oven.
He scooped out a large forkful and shoved it in his mouth, sauce smearing his lips. He made a face but then started chewing.
After he swallowed, he scooped some on a plate and went to sit down at the table again.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, Flynn,” I had told him, watching him as he ate the pile of pasta on his plate.
Flynn didn’t say anything but he finished the lasagna. And when he was done he took his then empty dish to the sink, washed it, and put it on the drying rack.
He leaned down and kissed me. “Thank you for making me dinner, Ellie,” he said before grabbing Murphy’s leash and taking the dog outside.
I had stood in the middle of the kitchen, completely bewildered by what had happened.
That hadn’t been the only instance of contention between us. Yesterday Flynn had come home from work and walked into the bedroom, where I was putting away laundry. I had just finished hanging up his shirts in the closet when he came into the room.
“Hey,” I had said, looking over my shoulder. Flynn was stood just inside the door watching me.
“What are you doing?” he had asked.
I looked at the shirt in my hands and then back at my less than happy boyfriend.
“Uh, putting clothes away,” I had answered, not sure what his problem was.
Flynn had marched across the room and practically ripped the shirt from my hands. He lifted it to his nose and smelled the fabric.
“What in the world?” I had asked, laughing nervously.
“What detergent did you use?” he demanded and then had started pulling all of the shirts I had just hung up off the hangers, smelling each of them.
“I used the detergent in the laundry room,” I had told him, confused.
“The one with the purple cap?” he had asked, throwing the shirts on the floor and walking across the room to the basket of clean clothes I had put on the bed.
“Um, yeah. I think so,” I answered, watching in complete shock as he dumped the clothes on the floor.
“That’s not right! That’s the detergent for the sheets! I only use that detergent for the sheets, Ellie! The bottle with the green cap is for the clothes! I can’t wear these! I’ll have to wash them again! You can’t use the detergent with the purple cap for my clothes! It doesn’t smell right!” he yelled, getting himself worked up.
He had balled up all of the clothes and left the room. I followed him to the laundry room where he had started the washing machine and was measuring out detergent from the bottle with a green cap.
He held out the detergent bottle. “See! This is the right one!” he hollered. “Don’t ever use the other one on clothes!”
I felt myself starting to get angry. I couldn’t help it. My reaction was instantaneous and instinctual to his criticism.
In the past, I had always tried to handle his outbursts with a patience that I hadn’t been aware I possessed. I had taken his freak-outs in stride. But that had been before we were living together.
Things were so different now. I felt suddenly trapped by his irrational mood swings. I had nowhere to go that was just mine. I was living in Flynn’s house. Subject to his rules and eccentricities.
And those things that I had always accepted and loved about him were now driving me insane.
“Fine! I won’t use the stupid detergent with the purple cap!” I had yelled at him. Flynn looked like a dog that had been kicked and I instantly felt bad for losing my cool. He couldn’t help it. I had to remember that. I always had before.
I didn’t touch Flynn; I knew from experience that he needed physical distance after having a meltdown. Instead I left him to fill the washing machine with the freshly clean clothes. I had gone into the living room and sat down, watching television. Murphy had come in and lain at my feet, giving me his doggy comfort.
After fifteen minutes or so, Flynn came into the living room and sat down beside me. He hadn’t said anything. I didn’t say anything. We just sat there together watching re-runs of Laverne and Shirley.
