Chapter 1
“I’m home! Stopped on the way to get your favorite cake.”
Smiling, he walked in that lush morning sunshine to the kitchen, balancing a paper bag in his right hand and tugging a suitcase in the left. No answer, but Trent used to sleep late on Saturdays, so he put the bag on the counter, and loosened his tie on that crumpled shirt. He ditched his suit jacket and kicked his shoes off.Heaven.
“Trent?”
Whistling, he walked to the bedroom door with a small smile, and knocked. “Trent? Sleepy head…”
He pushed the door open, and stepped in. His heart skipped at the sight of that empty bed. One with too tidy sheets. One where nobody had slept in.Shit.He looked around, but the room was empty, the blinds still half lowered. He hurried back to the kitchen and took his phone out.Stupid. He slept at a friend’s, maybe…Checking his messages, but there were none. He typed; a bit pissed above that fatigue.
-am back where are you?
Watching the screen, but nothing came, but that mild fear, that Trent had gone out and gotten into an accident. His eyes went to their photo on the wall, Trent and him, at their friends’ wedding, Trent’s arms laced around his chest from the back, his wide smile, his grey hair and beard next to his black hair and grey eyes, both of them in suits, a promise of that wedding they had been planning.Soon.He frowned, a tiny icicle growing into his heart. Worry. Fear, too.Maybe call the police if he doesn’t answer.The phone buzzed then in that silence. In that white kitchen flooded with light, a single red flower in a vase. Trent loved red roses.
He swiped it open.
-sorry, babe I can’t do this anymore I’ll leave you a few days to pack and find a place
That icicle had blown up in his chest, spreading to his lungs.What…?Blinking at those few words, that anger poised at the edge of his shock.What…? Motherfucker.
Dialling.Pick up bastard!
“Hi…”
“You…” He had to take a breath, fill those tight lungs when his whole chest was in a cage. “You… left? You’re leaving me?”
“I’m sorry, babe. I can’t anymore, not with your work, the constant stress, you being away… the worry…”
“We’re getting married…” That disbelief, still. His eyes drifted to the paper bag, to that stain on it as the cake started leaking into the side. Breathing softly, trying to use his discipline not to lose it as his hand clenched on that innocent phone. “I quit… I left my client so we could have that time you were missing?” That sudden anger made him dizzy. “I even brought you a fucking cake!”
“I’m sorry about your job, but it’s too late for us, babe. Don’t be mad, ok? It’s for the best. Before we commit to something? Right?”
“Is this how you fucking break up with me after all these years? Over the phone?”
“Now, now… you see how angry you are? It’s better this way. You would have shouted. You’re shouting now.”
“Of course I’m fucking shouting! You… you’re breaking our life apart!”
“I’m just doing what’s best for us.”
“What’s best for you!”
“You never understood how much I gave up for us… how I spent days in agony, worrying about you… how it made me feel…”
“Oh, you, you, you… is that it? It’s my fault now! You knew what I was doing when we met! You fucking knew! Don’t blame me for this!” That anger, sifting into despair. “Don’t… can you come home? We could talk… talk this over. Please.”
“No. I can’t… I won’t be reasonable when I’m around you, and you know that. We’d end up in bed and fuck…”
“And maybe we should, and you wouldn’t leave…” He had to shut up, his tears clogging his throat.Please, please…
“You’re a grown man, babe. You’ll get over this.”
“Fuck you, I still love you!”
“And I will think of you fondly too. Call me when you moved out.”
He sighed, his lips trembling with wrath and grief. “Fuck you.”
