Fuck.
Distressed was too simple a word for the emotional breakdown she was experiencing.
"What stuff, baby?" I asked, approaching her like I would a frightened animal.
She pulled back, her arms making agitated gestures toward the room at large. "Our things! The photos. The bowls we bought in Cambodia. Photos of our engagement. That god-awful meerkat statue you gave me for our anniversary." She turned to me, tears glistening on her lashes. "Where's our meerkat statue, Calvin? Where is he?"
God, the statue. I hadn't thought of it in… too long.
"I'm not sure, baby. You wanted to give him to Goodwill when we moved from the—"
"No." She shook her head brutally, immediately clutching at it as if in pain. "No, no, no! I wouldn't have done that! I wouldn't have just given away our things as if they had no value. This…." She looked around, still clutching her head. "This isn't my house. This isn’t my life."
She blinked up at me, one hand dropping to press against her lips. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit!"
"Emily—"
She whirled, racing for the door.
"Fuck!" I raced after her, catching her before she managed to get to the stairs.
"Let me go!" She screamed, kicking at my shins and attempting to beat at my chest. "Let me go! You're not my husband! This isn't my life!"
"Jesus, baby. Stop." I tried to soothe her, tried to pull her closer and wrap her in my arms. She broke, her body wracked with grief and confusion and sobs so hard I worried she'd vomit.
I let her clutch me close and let her cry until I was sure she wouldn't run. Then I bent slightly, boosted her legs up and settled them around my waist, carrying her to the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her wrapped around me like a koala. Her face pressed to my chest, her sobs uncontrollable.
The selfish fucker in me trotted back out.
She's back. This time? Don't let her escape.
I shoved the thought away, burying the guilt deep.
It took a long time. Longer than even I had thought for Em to calm. By that time, I'd moved us onto the bed. We were lying side-by-side, front-to-front, my fingers running through her hair, her gaze locked on my chest as she let out the occasional sniffle.
She finally looked up at me, her eyes and nose red and swollen. "Can you tell me what happened? How we got here?"
I blew out a breath, my fingers stilling in her hair. "It's hard to know, really."
"Cal, I look in the mirror and don't recognise myself." She lifted a hand to finger to her chemically straightened hair. "My hair is different, my body is different, my clothes, our house." She dropped her hand to my chest. "Only you're familiar. Only you feel like home."
I closed my eyes, savouring her words.
"And yet you're different too. You don't…. Just tell me."
Where to start?
"To be honest, I don't really know. We got married. A bigger wedding than either of us wanted." I smiled, remembering our joy. "But we did what we said we would."
"Snuck away to town hall?"
I nodded. "The day before. You got married in a dress you made. I was wearing the navy suit you liked. Our witnesses were a guy there to pay a parking fine and a woman who was seeking a divorce."
She chuckled. "I hope the divorcee didn't try to talk me out of it."
"Nah, she was still a believer in true love," I remembered watching my beautiful Em, her curves accentuated by the lace of the dress, walk down the aisle toward me. I remembered the smile that I couldn't contain, the laughter as we awkwardly pushed the rings onto each other's fingers. The taste of her kiss as she became my wife.
"I'm glad you have that memory,” she said, sounding bittersweet. "I'm glad we did that."
