I need to get my life together, I knew that deep down, but never knew it needed to happen right now. He’s talking about kids? No way.
My mind is so overloaded I just sit there reeling. I feel my mouth fall open.
“What?” He turns on his heel to face me.
“I—I—” I stutter. I have never fought with Darren. Never needed to, we’ve always had the philosophy that who ever cared more gets their way. I guess I never really cared.
I care now. I really, really care.
All at once I am done. I can’t hold it in any longer, and I burst into tears. I hate myself for crying; I just wanted to come home and take a long hot bath. The past 24 hours have just been too much.
“Jesus, Nora. What happened to you?” He looks concerned now. I am sobbing and can’t talk.
“I’m 24,” I blurt out. “I need to a take a bath.” I march back to the bathroom.
The water is soothing and Darren leaves me alone for a while. I can’t hear what he is doing, but I think he is still here. I can’t tell if I overreacted, but he just seemed so mean-spirited tonight. He’s always been annoyed by my law school dreams, but never so callous. He has never liked me in heels, but never said I look horrible in them.
I expected so much after the last couple of days, and instead I get this? This is why I never expect anything. Mom always said, ‘expect nothing and never be disappointed, always be surprised.’ I expected Darren to ask me to move in with him a while back, that didn’t happen. I didn’t even get a commitment to our relationship, just an ‘I like what we have.’ All I wanted to do was talk about the possibility of living a real life, about what it felt like to be so alive.
My problem now is I have expectations. I want to express my opinions, and I want to be able to shout at the top of my lungs what goes on in my head. I want a little control. I don’t need a lot, just a little control over where my life is going.
Darren comes in with a glass of wine.
“Hi,” he says, tentatively. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
I sit up in the bath to reach for the wine glass. “Sure, thanks.”
“So, you wanna talk about it? Bad day a work?” Using the toilet as a stool, he sits.
“I could ask you the same thing. You seem out of sorts tonight.” I almost pout, but stop myself.
His eyes widen in surprise. “Look Nora, every time you bring up law school, you do this to yourself. You work yourself up to this, this—well this!” He gestures to the bathtub. “You’ve been really happy recently and then, bam! First comes the law school comment, and then total meltdown.” He takes a deep breath. I sip my wine, letting the cold crisp flavor cool my throat.
“You’re happy with the way things are. You have a good job, a great apartment, good friends, and me. Why do you keep trying to change things?”
“But I don’t have a good job. It’s my placeholder job. Maybe I didn’t express myself well enough about that. And I don’t have you. We don’t live together, we see each other. At times we are great and at others—Well, it’s left me wanting.”
“Left you wanting? I don’t satisfy you?” His tone is contemptuous again. How can he go from soothing to hateful so quickly? I shrink in the bath.
“Really, Darren? That’s your take away?”
“And no,” Darren rants on as if he didn’t hear me. “You don’t express yourself. You never have. You wait for me to take care of everything.”
“You don’t have to take care of everything. You don’t let me have an opinion. Ever,” I shout back at him, splashing the water as I stand.
Now, I’m angry again. So much for this being an easy relationship. For three years I played it so cool, never wanting to fight, never wanting to be too strong or too pushy. He misread everything I did. Or I misread everything I did. Not knowing what to do next, I stare at him while he looks back at me with pity. Pity.
“I do express myself. You just don’t listen,” I
My mind is so overloaded I just sit there reeling. I feel my mouth fall open.
“What?” He turns on his heel to face me.
“I—I—” I stutter. I have never fought with Darren. Never needed to, we’ve always had the philosophy that who ever cared more gets their way. I guess I never really cared.
I care now. I really, really care.
All at once I am done. I can’t hold it in any longer, and I burst into tears. I hate myself for crying; I just wanted to come home and take a long hot bath. The past 24 hours have just been too much.
“Jesus, Nora. What happened to you?” He looks concerned now. I am sobbing and can’t talk.
“I’m 24,” I blurt out. “I need to a take a bath.” I march back to the bathroom.
The water is soothing and Darren leaves me alone for a while. I can’t hear what he is doing, but I think he is still here. I can’t tell if I overreacted, but he just seemed so mean-spirited tonight. He’s always been annoyed by my law school dreams, but never so callous. He has never liked me in heels, but never said I look horrible in them.
I expected so much after the last couple of days, and instead I get this? This is why I never expect anything. Mom always said, ‘expect nothing and never be disappointed, always be surprised.’ I expected Darren to ask me to move in with him a while back, that didn’t happen. I didn’t even get a commitment to our relationship, just an ‘I like what we have.’ All I wanted to do was talk about the possibility of living a real life, about what it felt like to be so alive.
My problem now is I have expectations. I want to express my opinions, and I want to be able to shout at the top of my lungs what goes on in my head. I want a little control. I don’t need a lot, just a little control over where my life is going.
Darren comes in with a glass of wine.
“Hi,” he says, tentatively. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
I sit up in the bath to reach for the wine glass. “Sure, thanks.”
“So, you wanna talk about it? Bad day a work?” Using the toilet as a stool, he sits.
“I could ask you the same thing. You seem out of sorts tonight.” I almost pout, but stop myself.
His eyes widen in surprise. “Look Nora, every time you bring up law school, you do this to yourself. You work yourself up to this, this—well this!” He gestures to the bathtub. “You’ve been really happy recently and then, bam! First comes the law school comment, and then total meltdown.” He takes a deep breath. I sip my wine, letting the cold crisp flavor cool my throat.
“You’re happy with the way things are. You have a good job, a great apartment, good friends, and me. Why do you keep trying to change things?”
“But I don’t have a good job. It’s my placeholder job. Maybe I didn’t express myself well enough about that. And I don’t have you. We don’t live together, we see each other. At times we are great and at others—Well, it’s left me wanting.”
“Left you wanting? I don’t satisfy you?” His tone is contemptuous again. How can he go from soothing to hateful so quickly? I shrink in the bath.
“Really, Darren? That’s your take away?”
“And no,” Darren rants on as if he didn’t hear me. “You don’t express yourself. You never have. You wait for me to take care of everything.”
“You don’t have to take care of everything. You don’t let me have an opinion. Ever,” I shout back at him, splashing the water as I stand.
Now, I’m angry again. So much for this being an easy relationship. For three years I played it so cool, never wanting to fight, never wanting to be too strong or too pushy. He misread everything I did. Or I misread everything I did. Not knowing what to do next, I stare at him while he looks back at me with pity. Pity.
“I do express myself. You just don’t listen,” I
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