My phone kept lighting up repeatedly. Before, whenever I went out for meetings, I always documented every detail with pictures, terrified of giving her any reason to doubt me.
But whenever I needed the same reassurance, she acted like I was suffocating her.
“I’m a person, not some pet you can whistle for. I need space. I need freedom.”
On the way back from the retreat, we hit a major accident on the highway. By the time I finally got home, it was close to midnight. Dragging my suitcase into the living room, I was surprised to find Arianne still awake.
“So you do remember how to come home. I thought you fell in love with the outside world and couldn’t bear to return.”
I was exhausted, eyelids heavy, with no energy for an argument. “There was an accident. Traffic was backed up for hours.”
Arianne shot to her feet, her voice tightening with anger.
“That’s not what I’m asking, Clyde. Why didn’t you answer any of my messages for two days?”
She threw her hands up, frustration spilling over.
“You just disappear like some moody teenager. If you’re upset, can’t you just say it? Do you really have to give me the silent treatment?”