"Dave!", she screamed from across the crowded bookstore.
I hate it when she talks so loud in public places. It makes me feel so... noticed. I hate feeling like that guy everyone looks at. I hate interrupting coffee shop conversations with a loud voice or a terse scream. She knows this. She senses my discomfort. She presses her lips together, waiting for a response. I close my book and begin to walk towards her, nodding to the young employee who has been raptured by my wife's screams.
"Dave!", she screams again. "Fucking hell, would you please come here".
My ears are burning. I'm aware of every single nerve ending in my body. My walk feels awkward. I'm trying to assimilate the fact that she both swore at me and said please at the same time. Please do not yell again. I want to be home, alone in my misery. "I'm coming", I said from across 2 aisles. I'm in self-help; she's looking for books for the kids. It's the second time in 3 months we've been out together without children. I'm sad. I miss having friends. I miss being friendly.
I'm finally next to her.
"Did you have to yell?", I ask. She is annoyed and looking for a fight. I should have backed off. I didn't mean to accuse her. Just feeling so insecure in this place.
"Did you have to ignore me the first 4 times I called?", she says. She's not looking at me. I'm looking at her ears. I used to kiss those ears. I miss those ears. I miss the way they felt when I first touched them. She's so bored with me. She's so impatient with me. She doesn't want me anymore. She won't admit it, she wants her idea of me. But I'm just me.
I'm just me.
