He's standing in the aisle, one hand on his half-full cart, the other resting on his hip like he just can't believe he's seeing me here at Mabel's… the same place he's been seeing me regularly and my place of work for the past two months.
I laugh and stand, my knees and back popping. I get in the zone sometimes when I'm stocking and organizing and don't realize just how long I've been stuck in a position until I stand and my body disagrees.
Brushing my hands on my jeans, I place my hands on my hips.
"Well, Mr. Jefferson, fancy seeing you here... in the store I work at... at the same time you come in every week on Sunday."
He grins, "Keeping track, huh, sugar?"
"Morris, if you don't stop flirtin' with my employees," Mabel calls from the end of the aisle, clipboard in hand, glasses halfway down her nose.
"Hush, Mabel, cut this old man some slack," he says, holding a hand over his chest. "This could be my last Christmas, an' all."
"You been sayin' that for the lastfifteenChristmases, and yet here you are," Mabel snarks, gesturing at him. "Lookin' pleased as a pig in shit."
"Don't make it not true," Mr. Jefferson protests. "Could be any of our last Christmases."
"Mhm..." Mabel hums, unimpressed, before turning back to me with a smile. "Wendy, finish up that box and then you can head home. I know those boys must be driving Taylor crazy."
I grin because her assessment is most likely true. For the last month, if Diane and Emmett aren't watching the boys on Sundays when I'm working, then Aunt Taylor is.
Today, she took them to the mall so they could see Santa and get a picture with him for me.
Liam doesn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, and I think Noah is just entertaining me, but still, I'm happy to have another picture with Santa before they get too old and too cool for it.
"Thanks, Mabel," I nod as she heads on her way. I turn back to Mr. Jefferson, who's placing a can of mixed nuts in his cart.
"How's that husband of yours doin'?"
I pause.
Thoughts of Atlas are bittersweet.
I haven't seen him since the day he left our house last month, but I get regular updates from Diane.
After his first appointment with a therapist, they recommended that Atlas be checked into a mental health rehabilitation facility for a month. A detox, of sorts.
His mental health had deteriorated that much.
My heart broke when she told me. I burst into tears, aching for my husband, wanting to hold him. It's a powerless feeling when the man you love so much is fighting something as vicious and cruel as his own mind and thoughts.
I've felt so ignorant, despite the words from Diane, Emmett, and Taylor that this isn't my fault. That nothing I could have done could have changed this.
They still don't know when this even started or what it even is. Atlas has been tight lipped about it when they talk on the phone.
But, they said that he sounds better and is speaking more.
The guilt is relentless. I'm so used to being the fixer, the problem solver, but... I don't think I could fix what's going onwith my husband. That hurts in a way that I can't even name.
I miss him so much.
But I'm also still so hurt by him.
It's confusing to exist in this gray area.
Atlas is being discharged next week, just in time for Christmas. Then he'll continue working with a therapist to help heal whatever is tormenting him inside his mind.
Before he left, he responded to the separation through a lawyer his parents found for him with a simple note:"Whatever my wife needs or wants, give it to her."
