2014 Prompt Responses - 11. Prompt 313

“Did you say the crocuses are blooming?” I was folding laundry and not really paying attention to Branden as he was prattling on.

He sighed, exasperated. “Yes! Aren’t you even listening to me?”

I rolled my eyes. It was the same old argument. I never paid attention to poor, neglected Branden. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Like you’re the only one.” He huffed past me.

I let out the breath I was holding and threw the shirt I just folded onto the bed. I didn’t know what to do about Branden. We’d been drifting apart for a while, now. Maybe it was the seven year itch raising its ugly head; or in our case the ten year itch. I wanted nothing more than to go out to the living room, wrap my arms around him, and tell him that I love him and everything was going to be ok. Instead, I finished folding the laundry and put it away.

Branden slept on the couch that night and I let him.

The next two weeks passed in a dance of avoidance. I worked late and ate take-out at the office. I usually remembered to call and let Branden know, but on the days I forgot he left our overcooked dinner on the table and a set of sheets on the couch for me. He left before I woke up in the morning and I came home after he was already in bed. I don’t remember the last time we made love. I knew I was losing him, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Actually, that’s not true. I knew exactly what to do about it, but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to my best friend, partner, and lover of the past ten years.

“Are you having an affair?” He whispered. We were actually home at the same time, trying to have a pleasant dinner.

My fork clattered to the table and I put my head in my hands. “How can you ask me that?”

“You haven’t answered the question, Adam.” Branden’s voice was strained, like he was trying not to cry.

I looked up at him. “I would never cheat on you. You know me better than that, Bran.”

He looked away. “I thought I did.” He stood up and put his half-eaten dinner in the sink, and then retreated to our bedroom.

I washed the dishes before falling asleep on the couch with the white noise of some mindless TV show playing in the background.

I knew things couldn’t continue the way they were for much longer. I wondered how much time was left before Branden left me. The thought made me want to throw up. I didn’t know how to fix us, or even if I wanted to.

Branden texted me midafternoon the next day: What time will you be home? We need to talk.

I tried to swallow, but my throat had suddenly dried up. I texted him back: 7:00

So the time had finally come. He was going to leave me. I started shaking at the thought and broke down in wracking sobs. I knew in that instant that I didn’t want to lose him, but my deepest fears told me that I was too late.

The lights were off when I got home and my blood ran cold thinking that he had already left. I clutched the small package in my hand and shakily opened the door. Branden was seated on the couch in the living room. He had cleared off the coffee table and it was now set for a candlelit dinner for two. The aroma of my favorite meal wafted from the kitchen and I couldn’t stop the tears flowing freely down my face.

“Adam…”

I walked over to Branden and handed him the small bouquet of crocuses. “These flowers are the first signs of the rebirth of spring.” I whispered. “I want them to be symbols of our rebirth, too.”