22
Annabelle
The windeffortlessly sweeps through the tall grass while the butterflies feed off the foxglove that grows between the blades.
Somewhere the birds chirp happily as the early morning dew disperses in the air and the city comes alive.
What must it be like to be free of feelings?
To have no worries or responsibilities?
I sip my tea and try to quiet my brain, taking in the stunning scenery before me until I hear the daunting sound of his footsteps throughout the house.
I’ve come to dread the sound. It means he’s leaving for the day and I won’t see him again until this time tomorrow.
It’s been a few days since I exposed my secret, a few days since I broke Jack’s heart, yet we haven’t discussed it once. He wants to, he’s tried even, but it’s too much too soon for him to wrap his head around it all.
He hasn’t left me, though, which I take as a good sign.
I won’t force him to talk. He needs to come to me when he’s ready. Though his quietness only worries me more, because he’s going through the days emotionlessly.
Not that I’m any better. I hid my phone and haven’t checked my messages since Sadie and Nora left that first night.
Sometimes denial is easier to deal with than anything else.
My back is to the door so I only know he’s here from the different sounds I’ve started to recognize his shoes make. I lift my teacup. “Fancy a cuppa?” I ask like I’ve done every morning, waiting for him to bite.
But just as he has the past few days, he says, “I’m leaving for the office, don’t wait up—”
“I know, Jack… you’ll be late.” I sigh.
I feel him hesitate. “I have a meeting in St. John’s Wood, near that bakery you love. Would you like me to grab anything for you?”He’s trying.
“Sure, whatever you think I’d like. Thank you, Jack.”
When I don’t hear his retreat, I glance in his direction but swiftly turn back when I see his lifeless green eyes taking in my disheveled appearance.
It’s why I sit facing the garden every day. I can’t bear to see his eyes any way but sparkling. It’s his best attribute. Even when he’s having a bad day, he can always see the best in everything.
Not anymore.
I’ve dimmed his light, but I’ll be here to help spark it back alight when he’s ready.
When the door closes and I know he’s gone, I allow myself a small amount of tears. Some perhaps from exhaustion since I’m bloody knackered. I haven’t been sleeping well, and when I finally manage to shut my eyes, it’s time to get up so I don’t miss Jack leaving for work.
A few tears are shed for Jack and the strain I’ve put on our relationship. But the rest is for our baby, who, although I’ve mourned before, I’m now mourning all over again alongside my husband.
When the tears dry, that’s my sign to start my day of doing nothing. I tried to go to the office the first day Jack did, but I couldn’t expose myself to the public yet.
Trust me when I say I’m a walking disaster.
Heading inside, I walk right to my makeshift bed—the sofa—and turn on the telly. I can’t bear sleeping in our bed alone knowing he’s on the other side of the house, so I’ve been camped out here until we figure everything out between us.
Before jumping back intoDownton Abbey—which reminds me of Jack and our time in Paris—I check my emails on my laptop. I ignore the ones from everyone except Lola, who flags anything I need to attend to urgently.
I may be useless in the office, but I won’t leave her completely hanging. Working remotely has been effective so far, and it’s good practice for when she leaves for Africa.
It’s also put my work-life balance into perspective.
