The One Where Rolf Decides We Should Hug Every Hour

Rolf has been working from 10-7 at his new assignment downtown. 10-7, plus an hour and fifteen minutes on DC's crap subway system, puts him home at 8:15 at the earliest. It's gotten upsetting. That, and him not talking to me except to look at me with this piercing glare of extreme emptiness, which I'm left to interpret. Mornings start that way, no good morning, evenings begin that way, no, sorry I'm late, I'm so glad to be home. . .

Wednesday, he came home, Bailey rushed off to greet him, I steeled myself for a moment and followed:

"Have you started the Jeep?"

"What?"

"Have you started . . . "

"yes"

". . . because you have to . . . "

"it's done, don't worry"

"when did you do it, because . . ."

"recently"

"you have to start it to keep . . ."

"it's done. quit it."

"I just want to be sure . . . "

"Oh go to hell. and welcome home."

"What?! "

"I told you it was fine,
I don't need a lecture on taking care of my car when you walk in the door!
You didn't even say hello. Just walk in . . . forget it"

And I spun on my heels and pouted away. I am an idiot.

I'd been in the kitchen. I was eating alone that night. I was making lamb chops, a salad of tomato, parsley, and roasted peppers with lemon and olive oil.

I don't know why I wrote that down. I've been picking fights like that, and he's been trying to escalate everything into a fight himself, for weeks. He was jealous of my time away doing The Last Five Years, I've been angry that he's been sleeping in on the work days so he can't get home until 8:30. And I am lonely. Embarrassed and defeated about my boring job, that I've had for seven fucking years; and realizing that no one can rescue me, even though that's all Rolf would want to do.

He got home at 8:15, and was gone by 8:45, off to play geezerball. I was probably drunk and still pouting when he got home at 10:15. And we were in bed by 11. I clung tightly to the side of the bed, my back to him - my heart pounding as it sometime does - and I took a deep sigh to catch my breath.

"What's wrong?" I heard him say through my earplugs.

"Nothing's wrong,"

"What' happened?" he says with concern.

"Nothing happened."I say with another deep sigh.

"Why are you doing that?

"It was a long, boring, lonely day; and nothing happened.
I'm glad it's over."

"I'm sorry." he says defeated.

I couldn't sleep. I grabbed a magazine and got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" he said as I opened the door.

"Out there!" I said with seething impatience and closed the door.