Speaker 1: It was already creeping past ten when I finally shut
Speaker 1: my laptop, the blue glow leaving thin lines burned against
Speaker 1: my retinas. I've been on back to back holsincey, trying
Speaker 1: unsuccessfully to line a client I didn't even want. Somewhere
Speaker 1: in that blur of faces and sly decks, I lost
Speaker 1: track of Lauren's trivia and I only when I clicked
Speaker 1: open our shared Google calendar to schedule yet another meeting
Speaker 1: did I notice a gap where those trivia or Nose
Speaker 1: all stars usually anchored the week. The entry, which has
Speaker 1: recurred loyal as the sun every Thursday for years, was
Speaker 1: just gone, a faint ghost in the past, deleted with
Speaker 1: no trace but a hollow space. I told myself it
Speaker 1: meant nothing. Maybe she forgot to add it back after
Speaker 1: last week's ran out. Maybe after half a decade of
Speaker 1: the same old East Side tap, even Lauren could get bored.
Speaker 1: She'd said she was just not feeling it this week,
Speaker 1: that it was good to rest sometimes. But Lauren th
Speaker 1: ive on routine. Her calendar color coded so even brunch
Speaker 1: had a category forest green for girls, blue for us.
Speaker 1: I stared at the absence for too long, want me
Speaker 1: to call her I mumble, mostly to the empty living room.
Speaker 1: Trivia is almost sacred for Lauren, one of those minor
Speaker 1: rituals couples end up designing together until they are indistinguishable
Speaker 1: from love itself. I missed those first spring nights, her
Speaker 1: hand in mine after winds, a laughter echoing on Peachtree.
Speaker 1: Lauren's voice shrobe but triumphant as she recounted how she
Speaker 1: single handedly kept us from tanking geography. Lately, though trivia
Speaker 1: night's seen more social networking than gains a deeper circle,
Speaker 1: I felt less and less like ours. She hadn't texted
Speaker 1: to night. Normally, she'd at least send a selfie of
Speaker 1: the team huddling or shot of craft beer. I picked
Speaker 1: up my phone and diled, hearing her answer on the
Speaker 1: second ring, voice stretched too tight, Hey, she said, breathless,
Speaker 1: the sound of music and laughter muggy in the background.
Speaker 1: It was damply, cheerful, art official, as if she were
Speaker 1: imitating some one else's idea of fun. I'll good here,
Speaker 1: are you working late? Still at my desk? Water ride home?
Speaker 1: I asked, trying to keep it light. I can swing
Speaker 1: by or just meet you somewhere if you're stuck in
Speaker 1: the rain. Oh no, don't worry, she cut in a
Speaker 1: little too quickly. Actually, I'm near by, just as with
Speaker 1: the usuals. Didn't want to bug you while you're slammed.
Speaker 1: She led a beat. Han, we wrapped up early to
Speaker 1: night anyway you focus o K. It sounded plausible, but
Speaker 1: off If they'd finished early, why was she still out?
Speaker 1: Usually she'd be eager to debrief, complain about Meg's obsession
Speaker 1: with obscure ninety sickcombs, or ask me which dessert I
Speaker 1: wanted on her way home. This time she was deliberately vague.
Speaker 1: The usuals meant trivia crew, but she didn't say names
Speaker 1: the background noise then she might have stepped outside or
Speaker 1: muted me. Save me a mini cupcake, I joked, but
Speaker 1: she only laughed. The sund sharpened metallic shore babe, see
Speaker 1: you soon. When she got in an hour later, her
Speaker 1: hair was slick from rain, skin glinting with city grime.
Speaker 1: She looked beautiful, as she always did when flushed from
Speaker 1: the Socia jungle, but the sad trailing after her was different.
Speaker 1: I know her usual, a faint spring florl shampoo, the
Speaker 1: sitters of her dry shampoo. To night there was another
Speaker 1: odre cologne, almost musky, faint but out of place. Not
Speaker 1: Meg Mick always wore that vanilla body spray. Maybe one
Speaker 1: of the guys was heavy handed. I let my eyes
Speaker 1: slip to the jacket draped over Lauren's folded arm, water dappled.
Speaker 1: It wasn't hers navy, too big even for her window layer,
Speaker 1: A faded patch on the cuff. She smiled as she
Speaker 1: saw me looking though. I borrowed this from Meg, she said,
Speaker 1: tossing it on to the mill post down, poor hit.
Speaker 1: As I left, she said I could bring it monday.
Speaker 1: She peeled off her boots, her bare feet pale on
Speaker 1: the hall man Any dinner left? Yeah, I roasted these
Speaker 1: sweet tat as you like, perfect, she chirruped a little forest.
Speaker 1: It was late for her to eat, but she nibbled
Speaker 1: and teased, scrolling through her phone under the table with
Speaker 1: a show of energy, she recapped her boring rainy night,
Speaker 1: horribly memorable trivia. No prize is the usual bar banter.
Speaker 1: But I noticed her gaze clipped away from the wooden
Speaker 1: trivia box perch by the door, now collecting a faint
Speaker 1: layer of dust. She used to bring home every silly
Speaker 1: trink at the one, rubber ducks, plastic trophies, a sign
Speaker 1: poster from the Drag Queen host. Last spring, she'd line
Speaker 1: them up, give each a story, laugh as she decorated shelves.
Speaker 1: Now they just sat untouched. I almost asked if everything
Speaker 1: was okay, but instead I made her tea while she
Speaker 1: takes it under the table, her thumb moving fast, smile faint,
Speaker 1: she awn as she had it upstairs. I'll shower then bed. Okay.
Speaker 1: Her perfume, the one I bought for a last anniversary,
Speaker 1: lingered on her neck. She only wore it for special occasions,
Speaker 1: dinner parties, work pitches, anniversaries. Trivia was never special enough.
Speaker 1: I convince myself it's nothing that I'm reading too much
Speaker 1: into a busy week. Still, when she's gone, I checked
Speaker 1: the trivia box, remembering last August when she baked me
Speaker 1: to make room for yet another bubblehead, both of us
Speaker 1: nearly crying with laughter. Now it's just another dusty thing.
Speaker 1: I guess that's how it starts a moment that feels
Speaker 1: too thin to matter, but still keeps he from sleeping.
Speaker 1: I've plenty of time to think about that emptiness over
Speaker 1: coffee the next morning Lauren's presence in the house oddly faint.
Speaker 1: She leaves early for a work meeting, promising to call
Speaker 1: after lunch. Her calendar is back to back, she says,
Speaker 1: and she wants to land that crazy start of project.
Speaker 1: I let myself get distracted by emails until the house
Speaker 1: grows quiet, but her energy seems to ham in the air,
Speaker 1: anxious and unfinished. Six isn't a short story. If you
Speaker 1: told someone at dinner party how we met, it had
Speaker 1: sound overly simple, too ambitious. Young adults in Atlanta both
Speaker 1: knewis not just to the city, but to its possibilities.
Speaker 1: Colliding at a crowded indie books through downtown, I was
Speaker 1: looking for a book about the civil rights movement. She
Speaker 1: was hunting a collection of mid century design essays. We
Speaker 1: bickered over the last copy of something neither of us
Speaker 1: would finish and mound up swapping phone numbers whiles splitting
Speaker 1: a sticky barn at a bickery around the corner. Within
Speaker 1: three months, it felt as if our lives snack together
Speaker 1: by a secret language, quick text with inside jokes, city
Speaker 1: walking tours, sundays at farmers' markets, drinks that stretch into
Speaker 1: brunch dinners, we cook together just because Lauren's anstey is
Speaker 1: what drew me, and she could be bracing, sometimes almost
Speaker 1: surgical with her constructive criticism, but she was always kind.
Speaker 1: She looked into my eyes, laugh about my sweat of
Speaker 1: being objectively hideous, and then fixed the callers so it
Speaker 1: was at least presentable. That kind of open sincerity is
Speaker 1: rare in a city that likes its secrets. We both
Speaker 1: got used to busy, my job as a marketing director
Speaker 1: for a ristless phintic firm, her hustle since founding her
Speaker 1: own interiors consultancy two years ago. Lauren could go without sleep,
Speaker 1: running design boards after midnight, fielding clients who wanted their
Speaker 1: entire lives overhouled in four weeks. Still, we held Thursday
Speaker 1: Trivia as untouchable, our friends envied to reliability. You two
Speaker 1: are like clockwork. Even when the world melts, you show up.
Speaker 1: Some one joked once at a bar, and Lauren grinned,
Speaker 1: squeezing my hand, saying, well, he never lets me flag
Speaker 1: on trivia. It was unmutual excuse to turn off eat
Speaker 1: fried food debrief. Our weeks with Meg sometimes Chris, familiar
Speaker 1: faces swapped stories. Looking back, Maybe I should have paid
Speaker 1: more attention to what changed Among all those familiar faces.
Speaker 1: Our circles started to widen, and not just thanks to
Speaker 1: Lauren's work. There was Brian added just last season, charming, funny, quick,
Speaker 1: with the trivia facts that always luded me. Lauren seemed
Speaker 1: to light up around him, but she lit up around everyone.
Speaker 1: He was harmless. I thought Meg was still her trivia partner,
Speaker 1: easy enough to talk to. Chris was my closest office friend.
Speaker 1: Part of our couple's routines we'd host in as. Lauren
Speaker 1: was meticulous about seating, charts, wine perrying's playless curation. Even
Speaker 1: for six I admired her loyalty. She turned down and
Speaker 1: out of state contract last year. The flant is home,
Speaker 1: So or are you? It wasn't just words. She made
Speaker 1: it clear she built this life for us. Our guest
Speaker 1: room stacked with home design samples, the table where we'd
Speaker 1: sketch future travel plans, the shaded back yard where she'd
Speaker 1: read a lad from the new fiction books we'd open
Speaker 1: loan from our friends. The routines grounded me. If you
Speaker 1: saw us out, we looked happy. Maybe not the loudest,
Speaker 1: but certainly the most in sync. Trivin Knights were my
Speaker 1: proof that things were still solid. No matter how spread
Speaker 1: she seemed by work or how many new scene friends
Speaker 1: appeared at parties, she always came home with this story
Speaker 1: about our team. She planned silly group costumes, hunted dancraft
Speaker 1: be as nobody else wanted, remembered every one's birthdays. Whenever
Speaker 1: she said, let's never stop doing this, I believed her.
Speaker 1: So even small changes stick out the trivia box collecting dust,
Speaker 1: the skid Knights law and guarding her phone, or the
Speaker 1: way she started changing plans, not just once, but again
Speaker 1: and again. I told myself I was imagining it that
Speaker 1: every couple gets busy, that the Laura and I knew
Speaker 1: was too honest for anything else. Then in the next
Speaker 1: few weeks those changes did and faintly sharpened. I noticed
Speaker 1: first that Thursday came and went, and Laura never left
Speaker 1: for trivia, claiming a late work call yet. But I
Speaker 1: walked past the kitchen, coming up stairted down below of laundry,
Speaker 1: I heard her on the phone, voice softened, not her
Speaker 1: business tone gigglin, the words blurred by the clatter of utensils,
Speaker 1: but the group text fread on her phone pop beside
Speaker 1: her wineglass reed trivia crue. Tonight came on, notifications bloomed.
Speaker 1: She hung up as I entered a quick swide clearing
Speaker 1: her screen. Did you all we schedule? I asked, I
Speaker 1: can grab us Vietnamese? Oh no, baby, don't wait up,
Speaker 1: I'm having snacks here. Got to power through emails, she said,
Speaker 1: a little too fast, eyes on her laptop. The room
Speaker 1: smelled faintly of smoke, which was unusual for Lauren's mild cigarettes,
Speaker 1: more like some one else had stood by the open window.
Speaker 1: When she disappeared upstairs, I checked the trash, expecting the
Speaker 1: usual fruit rap. Is nothing, just coffee, grounds and tissues
Speaker 1: Saturday instead of our usual coffee with friends. Lauren biked off,
Speaker 1: mumbling she kneeded downtime. That was so unlike her. She
Speaker 1: must have seen my show. Surprise. She fixed it quickly.
Speaker 1: Too many late nights for clients. Sorry, can we make
Speaker 1: it next week? Usually, she bounds out of bed to
Speaker 1: read the paper. Takes Meg and Chris about brunch plan
Speaker 1: the weekend. Now, she retreated, a phone in hand, scrolling
Speaker 1: in silence. When I tried to coax or want me
Speaker 1: to make that lemon rick at of pancakes. You love
Speaker 1: she only smiled weakly. I've got a call at noon, babe.
Speaker 1: Later okay. I tried to ignore the acdolphob that came
Speaker 1: in when like a bruise, he can't explain. I felt
Speaker 1: childish and secure, even as Lauren acted affectionate at dusk,
Speaker 1: curling her legs onto my lap as we washed a
Speaker 1: true crime documentary. She kept her foe near, glancing at
Speaker 1: near notification. She didn't show me when I pressed anything
Speaker 1: fun going on for trivia next week, she only changed
Speaker 1: the subject, launching into a story about a client's impossible taste.
Speaker 1: How do you tell someone their teal acx and all
Speaker 1: looks like mould on a slice of cheddar? I left
Speaker 1: it there. I kept telling myself that I was being paranoid,
Speaker 1: inventorying her moods out of habit, not out of need.
Speaker 1: We've both been busier than ever. Maybe Lauren just needed
Speaker 1: another crowd, a little break from her own routines. She
Speaker 1: deserved that. What mattered was she kept coming home, but
Speaker 1: the cracks widened. It started with little nudges. Lauren encouraged
Speaker 1: me to get up more with Chris. Grab a drink,
Speaker 1: re live those college days. She said, with his slig grin.
Speaker 1: The first few times, it seemed normal enough. She'd always
Speaker 1: liked an occasional night at home, a glass of wine,
Speaker 1: a design magazine, prepping for the next client. But one Thursday,
Speaker 1: when I realized I'd left my phone at home after
Speaker 1: a rush meeting at the office, I turned back an
Speaker 1: hour early half expecting to find Lauren hunched over her
Speaker 1: laptop protuped in bed. Instead, the faint thud of laughter
Speaker 1: from the backyard stopped me on the new porch step.
Speaker 1: I saw them. Lauren, Meg and Brian clustered around the
Speaker 1: patio table, wine glasses already half empty. Briane's spoiled like
Speaker 1: he owned the place. Feet propped on our bench. Lauren
Speaker 1: tossed her head back, laughing at something he'd whispered, not
Speaker 1: noticing me until make cold Sam too loud, as if
Speaker 1: covering something. I tried to act like this was normal.
Speaker 1: Didn't know we had a party, I joked, Sitting on
Speaker 1: the edge of the table, Meg smiled, glancing at Brian,
Speaker 1: who shot Laurena a looked quick, unreadable. Lauren invited us
Speaker 1: out back. Sorry he didn't mean to jump the fence.
Speaker 1: Brian stood to shake my hand, his grip was firm
Speaker 1: his shirt now that I could smell at matching the
Speaker 1: musquik alone from Lauren's jacket, dais ager. They climbed up
Speaker 1: a little as I joined conversation, lutching towards safe topics,
Speaker 1: bad movies, traffic. Brian dominated the banter, make darted glances
Speaker 1: at us every time Laurence spoke. Brian's eyes lingered soften away,
Speaker 1: I realized, too late, at once, reserved only for her.
Speaker 1: When Lauren leaned over to refill his glass and brushed
Speaker 1: his arm, it felt like a snare tightening. Meg changed
Speaker 1: the mood. It's getting late hot, too many cooks in
Speaker 1: this kitchen, she grinned, though her tone was brittle. Soon after,
Speaker 1: they made awkward excuses to go, Brian claiming another stop
Speaker 1: make fussing about Eyuber's soad pricing. Lauren cleaned up in silence,
Speaker 1: eyes on her hands. Sorry for the crowd, she said,
Speaker 1: Brian's dropping her off. It was spur of the moment.
Speaker 1: No a big deal, I said, but insisted on doing
Speaker 1: the dishes. Later, I noticed Lauren had marked her in
Speaker 1: time next weekend in the calendar as a design expo
Speaker 1: all day, both days, cross town. That was new, she
Speaker 1: usually invited me to pop by, or at least texted
Speaker 1: photos of fun displays. This time, when I offered, she fidgeted,
Speaker 1: did back to back meeting's babe, I'll be lucky if
Speaker 1: I eat lunch. I'll bring you a swag tea. The
Speaker 1: next afternoon, my phone pained a message for mech Hey,
Speaker 1: hope I'll get a home. For some reason, it felt loaded.
Speaker 1: When I texted back, Why wouldn't it be? She went
Speaker 1: radio silent, returning only just checking in for the smiley
Speaker 1: unis curdled as I pulled up this man's credit card statement,
Speaker 1: several charges I didn't recognize, for at a rooftop bar
Speaker 1: we'd visited once months back. Date of charge Thursday. Lauren
Speaker 1: had told me she worked late. The total was too
Speaker 1: high for solo drinks. I asked Lauren about it over
Speaker 1: take out, play casual follow that's art trivicrue. We went
Speaker 1: out after for a round deer to group tab. I
Speaker 1: just grabbed it. She poked at her food, as darting
Speaker 1: to the window. Which night again, you said you worked late?
Speaker 1: Oh maybe it was for I can't keep the week
Speaker 1: straight lawn month. Sorry, she smiled. Let's curling as if
Speaker 1: I closed the topic. As winter tried to thaw, I
Speaker 1: noticed the trivia trophy was missing from the living room,
Speaker 1: the one Lauren once polished before friends came over a
Speaker 1: silly best geographical fat plaque from two years ago. When
Speaker 1: I joked upgrading your shelf, as she shrug spring cleaning
Speaker 1: figures stuffy shelves on to good design vibe. I searched
Speaker 1: the usual closet. No sign could have gone in storage,
Speaker 1: I told myself. I suggested we host trivia friends soon.
Speaker 1: Lauren's answer was instant, cheerful, dismissive. Let's do a dinner
Speaker 1: for just us. We've been too social and you're always workingly.
Speaker 1: The next day, Matt, and mutual friend who floated between
Speaker 1: my work and has social scenes, spotted me at a
Speaker 1: coffee shop. Is Lauren o kay missed her at trivia
Speaker 1: two weeks running. People are kind of bund It's not
Speaker 1: the same crew without her. There was something careful in
Speaker 1: his expression, a way he said it that invited more questions.
Speaker 1: I tried to make light of it. Work's eating her alive,
Speaker 1: that's all I said. But yet I'll pass it on.
Speaker 1: Lauren planned a sudden girl's night with make and too nearer.
Speaker 1: A Quintin is leaving in one of her best dresses
Speaker 1: and the puffume I bought for our fifth anniversary. She
Speaker 1: hadn't won it in months, not for me, not even
Speaker 1: for our last date. Want to use a car, I offered,
Speaker 1: watching her do her make up at the bedroom mirror.
Speaker 1: Can drop you off, pick you up, and now I'll
Speaker 1: lift The place is downtown Parking's a mess. She kissed
Speaker 1: me on the forehead, absently, almost as if elsewhere. I
Speaker 1: washed her leave, still brushing her smooth fuone already pressed
Speaker 1: to her cheek. When she returned after midnight, she was
Speaker 1: bright eyed, flush cheet, the scent of gin and a
Speaker 1: trace of the unfamiliar cologne mixing as she tossed her coat,
Speaker 1: humming in her pocket. Later, as I did laundry, I
Speaker 1: found a fold of a seat handreton two cocktails and dinner,
Speaker 1: signed with the last name, unmistakably Brian's sloping hand. I
Speaker 1: waited for Lauren to mention it. She didn't. I started
Speaker 1: noticing how when I press Lauren's circle of friends for details, joking,
Speaker 1: trying to sound casual conversations, butun off course Meghan particular
Speaker 1: scene nervos shifting topics of asked whether she and Lorna
Speaker 1: had stayed out late or who else joined the bar gathering. Chris,
Speaker 1: when I brought up Brian, only smiled tightly, muttering he's
Speaker 1: an interesting character, before turning to talk about work. The
Speaker 1: distance yawned wider. Lauren's phone became a fixture in the bathroom,
Speaker 1: her notifications dimmed but ever present. When I tried plafully
Speaker 1: to steal her phone for a music request at dinner,
Speaker 1: she recalled a just let me look, babe, it's got
Speaker 1: my playlist in a weird folding. Now I felt isolated,
Speaker 1: as if every social bond we built was subtly repelling me,
Speaker 1: closing ranks and ways. I couldn't see the old trivitine
Speaker 1: chat once a riot of memes and plans went cold
Speaker 1: on my side. Lawrence seemed to keep her phone glued
Speaker 1: to her while cooking, texting rapid fire, and smiling at
Speaker 1: her screen, Yet whenever I came close, she'd flip it
Speaker 1: face down, all too casual. One morning, as I let
Speaker 1: the dog out into the back yard, I saw fresh
Speaker 1: cigarette butts clustered behind the hydrange of bush menthals, not
Speaker 1: the brand, Lawrence mockd that same thing lone han in
Speaker 1: the cold air, the memory of Brian's handschick from the
Speaker 1: backy party prickled under my skin. It became the backdrop
Speaker 1: for every moment. Lauren's explanations didn't align with my reality.
Speaker 1: Weak nights, She'd have to work late, but arrive with
Speaker 1: perfectly applied lipstick, telling stories about fuss client, but unable
Speaker 1: to recall the latest project codes. When I pressed innocently,
Speaker 1: she blocked off yet another entire Saturday for supposed design
Speaker 1: saw scouting trip. Yet when I later texted, Meg replied,
Speaker 1: I thought Lauren was with you to day my jo Clynch.
Speaker 1: But I told myself there must be an explanation. There
Speaker 1: were too many evenings Lauren encouraged me to be out,
Speaker 1: too many just girls nights, too many odd silences. When
Speaker 1: she was home, she peppered me with affection, as though
Speaker 1: overcompensating for something. One night, she joined me on the couch,
Speaker 1: almost clinging, talking about resetting our routines, planning a weekend
Speaker 1: tript AshEL Together for a few days, things eased, I
Speaker 1: convinced myself she'd just been overwhelmed that Brian was a
Speaker 1: phase of friend, nothing more. But then Chris, stopping by
Speaker 1: my office, shouted that short piece. He lingered in my
Speaker 1: doorway after everyone else headed out. Saw Lauren at the
Speaker 1: rooftop ball last Thursday. He said, casual, as if it
Speaker 1: barely mattered. She looked good, was with that brin guy
Speaker 1: from her trivia right, look cozy after midnight? You stay
Speaker 1: out too, I swallow, masking surprise. No, I had a deadline.
Speaker 1: She said it was all business. Humph. Chris's look was careful.
Speaker 1: Guess it was a fun business dinner anyway, got a
Speaker 1: sack for lunch. It could have meant anything, But Lauren
Speaker 1: told me she'd been home before ten alone. I felt
Speaker 1: the floor shift under my feet. I wanted to trust Lauren,
Speaker 1: but the facts no longer fit together. The calendar holes,
Speaker 1: the missing trivie routines, the careful silences. I started questioning myself.
Speaker 1: Was I seeing patterns that didn't exist? Was I unreasonably
Speaker 1: jealous or just finally noticing what every one else already saw.
Speaker 1: I tried to remind myself of all the years Lauren
Speaker 1: was the one I could rely on for raw, sometimes
Speaker 1: difficult honesty, the one who told me after our third
Speaker 1: date after we both admitted to messy break ups and
Speaker 1: too many secrets in the past. That should never keep
Speaker 1: anything hidden, no matter how painful. We're only as strong
Speaker 1: as what we share it right, She'd whispered into my ear,
Speaker 1: convincing me that real, no bushel love was possible. But
Speaker 1: what if sharing had become the casualty of her ambition
Speaker 1: or of whatever connected her to Brian that I couldn't name.
Speaker 1: Not yet it came to a head to following Thursday,
Speaker 1: just before midnight, I'd spend the evening pacing between half
Speaker 1: hearted emails and scrolling through Lauren's muted Instagram posts, searching
Speaker 1: for any clue that wasn't there. She came home, tired,
Speaker 1: as if beyond conversation, her eyes guarded above a two
Speaker 1: bright smile. I took a breath, held up the crumpled
Speaker 1: receipt I'd found in her coat, and asked, decent cocktails
Speaker 1: at Skylange. You signed for two? She paused just long enough.
Speaker 1: Oh that that was weeks ago, she said, a little
Speaker 1: too careful. Bryan paid me back. It was a group
Speaker 1: thing after trivia. We laugh. Really, you told me you
Speaker 1: stayed at the studio late. Wasn't that the night your
Speaker 1: presentation crashed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. It's
Speaker 1: all blurring together at Sam, I've had so much one
Speaker 1: at work, I can barely keep date straight. She leaned
Speaker 1: in as if making a confession. Honestly, I'm embarrassed. I
Speaker 1: didn't want to say, but my business is it's hit
Speaker 1: a rough patch. Bryane offered to introduce me to some
Speaker 1: potential investors. We met twice to talk option. I kept
Speaker 1: it to myself in case it flopped. I didn't want
Speaker 1: you to worry if nothing came of it. I wanted
Speaker 1: to believe her. She looked worn, real eyes shining with tension.
Speaker 1: So that why you haven't been at trivia, I asked softly. Yeah,
Speaker 1: and honestly, I felt it disconnected from the group, like
Speaker 1: I was letting everyone down. If I showed up so
Speaker 1: distracted the Thursday trivia thing, it started feeling force. She
Speaker 1: reached for my hand. I'm so sorry for hiding it, Sam,
Speaker 1: I should have told you there is absolutely nothing between
Speaker 1: me and Briangard. No, it's been business, and I was
Speaker 1: ashamed to admit my firm's hurting. She looked up at me, waiting.
Speaker 1: I hesitated, then nodded, feeling both relieving guilty. You can
Speaker 1: tell me anything. YE know that she squeezed my hand.
Speaker 1: I do, I know I screwed out. I want us
Speaker 1: to get past this. The relief in her voice was
Speaker 1: almost real. For a few days, things improved. Lauren left
Speaker 1: her phone on the table, planned a date night for us,
Speaker 1: tuppers a poetry, reading old stories. She said she wanted
Speaker 1: to hit her set on our routines reconnect. We spent
Speaker 1: a Saturday hiking Laurence, snapping selfie's, her smile, never slipping.
Speaker 1: I Bret easier, told myself I'd been overacting. Lauren was right,
Speaker 1: running a business was messy and everyone deserves a little
Speaker 1: privacy sometimes. But a few days later, as I I
Speaker 1: shut down my computer late on a Friday, Chris dropped
Speaker 1: by again, unusually hesitant. Hey, if it's not weird, is
Speaker 1: Lauren mad at me? I mentioned seeing her at s
Speaker 1: gay lounge last week? She seemed caught off guard. She
Speaker 1: and Brian were, you know, deep in conversation, seemed cozy,
Speaker 1: he both making up for lost time. There was something
Speaker 1: in his face. I'll worry he couldn't voice. My relief
Speaker 1: drained away, replaced with that cold calling feeling. I realized
Speaker 1: with a quiet certainty that Lauren's elegant explanations only covered
Speaker 1: more holes than they filled. That weekend, while Lawen worked
Speaker 1: late at his studio, something in me broke. I sat
Speaker 1: at the kitchen table, staring at the trivia box and
Speaker 1: now sheer calendar were tracing text logs and her scheduled appointments.
Speaker 1: Every detail flashed up, like bad camera photos, her absence
Speaker 1: at trivia, sudden silences in chat groups that once popped
Speaker 1: with our friend memes, the trophy gone, the odd messages
Speaker 1: from Meg, the receipts with Brian's name. I kept coming
Speaker 1: back to what Lauren said about her business troubles, about
Speaker 1: Brian's role as investor, but it made no sense. Her
Speaker 1: meetings always at night, across a roofed up bar, always him,
Speaker 1: never any one else, and nobody from her work had
Speaker 1: met him. If this were networking, why did she never
Speaker 1: want me there? Why did she dress for it? Were
Speaker 1: perfume otherwise reserved for events we'd both care about. I
Speaker 1: finally admitted a louren and exhausted that my story about
Speaker 1: being the husband Lauren told everything to was just that
Speaker 1: a story. The facts stacked up heavy as brooks, the
Speaker 1: scent of some one else's cologne, the missing trophy, the
Speaker 1: casual way friend shifted when I walked in Lauren's fowe
Speaker 1: never left alone, her absences at the one event we
Speaker 1: built our life round, and her new reluctance to even
Speaker 1: name who was at her side. I wanted to trust
Speaker 1: her so badly I hurt. The question pulsed through the silence.
Speaker 1: Was I seeing the truth or just betraying it by asking?
Speaker 1: I tried to avoid sneaping, hating myself for thinking about it.
Speaker 1: But each time Lauren dismissed my worries, swore nothing is wrong,
Speaker 1: my doubt only deepened. I started noticing details notes jotted
Speaker 1: in our planner and indecipherable shorthand a sudden floral arrangement
Speaker 1: next to the trivia box, a gift, she said from
Speaker 1: a client, though there was no card. Spotify playlists with
Speaker 1: tracks I had never heard her mentioned titles like Midnight Moves.
Speaker 1: I tried reasoning, if Meg goes word enough to text
Speaker 1: to help all good at home? Did she know or suspect?
Speaker 1: Why was Trevie dissolving? Just as Lauren grew more attached
Speaker 1: to Bryan's company. Why was Brian, a relative newcomer, suddenly
Speaker 1: fixed at the center of all these changes, while our
Speaker 1: old sopaubonds quietly disintegrated. One night, unable to sleep, a
Speaker 1: flged through Lauren's public organs to grim, hoping for a
Speaker 1: sign we had simply drifted quietly into separate words by accident.
Speaker 1: She posted a sleek photo of her studio, empty but
Speaker 1: with two glasses on the side table. The caption rey
Speaker 1: late Night's Big Dreams. No tax i assumed in one
Speaker 1: glass looks made at the rim, A ghostly print Whillips
Speaker 1: to comit the glass. I shut my phone off, sick
Speaker 1: at heart, and went out to the porch in the dark.
Speaker 1: The city lights pulsed indifferent and the air bic cold
Speaker 1: against my skin. I stood there for a long time,
Speaker 1: staring up at the sky I had once shared with Lauren,
Speaker 1: counting how many ways the distance between us could be
Speaker 1: measured without ever speaking her name. And yet some part
Speaker 1: of me still wanted to be wrong. Whatever hope I
Speaker 1: had of being mistaken, of some plausible for sick answer
Speaker 1: was starting to slip grain by grain, And the more
Speaker 1: I tried not to look, the more I saw Pattens
Speaker 1: emerged out of the corner of my eye, litzle vanishings
Speaker 1: and odd recalibrations in our life, my place shifting, wabbling,
Speaker 1: as if at Lanta itself had turned on its axis.
Speaker 1: On Monday morning, I found Law and pacing in her studio,
Speaker 1: phone cradled between chin and shoulder, her words low, urgent syllables,
Speaker 1: rising and falling too quickly to catch more than fragments.
Speaker 1: I lean on the doorway, pretending to tie my shoe,
Speaker 1: and waited for her to finish. She turned so her
Speaker 1: back faced me and whispered, yeah, next week. I think
Speaker 1: it's safe. I'll tell you if you know, not yet,
Speaker 1: just please. Something in her tone softer plain to felt
Speaker 1: too intimate. Not the Lauren who could snap instructions to
Speaker 1: contract her a hundred yards away. When she saw me,
Speaker 1: she snapped upright, slipping the phone away so quickly her
Speaker 1: elbow Corde Design magazine and send it skittering across the floor. Sorry,
Speaker 1: just Meg, being a perfectionist about girls night logistics, who
Speaker 1: knew dinner could take so much planning? She forced her laugh,
Speaker 1: cheeks pink, what's up? I hesitated. I was going to
Speaker 1: see if he wanted an armlet or coffee. She smiled
Speaker 1: like she wanted to mean it. Rain check, I'm behind
Speaker 1: on in vases. Maybe you could bring me something later.
Speaker 1: Her gaze led away before I could ask anything else.
Speaker 1: I started to count the small derelictions chare routine she
Speaker 1: once prized, now discarded with off hand excuses. She stopped
Speaker 1: reading my work newsletters to stop ripping on my favorite podcasts,
Speaker 1: left my suggestions of movie nights floating and claim between us.
Speaker 1: More and more our conversations yoped themselves to her schedule.
Speaker 1: Her moods home, which once felt like a chorus, now
Speaker 1: felt like a solo act I performed while she orbited
Speaker 1: somewhat just out of sight. Lauren's phone became not just private,
Speaker 1: but deliberately shielded. She started carrying it from room to room,
Speaker 1: even during quick showers, leaving it face down with notifications silenced.
Speaker 1: If I so much as glanced at the screen, she
Speaker 1: shifted the angles of protecting a secret. Once, while she
Speaker 1: was twisting her hair into a not a glimpse of
Speaker 1: message from just an initial, no photo, two flame emojis,
Speaker 1: she swiped it away, replying with such speed it made
Speaker 1: my chest height. When we did eat together dinners hastily
Speaker 1: constructed from whatever could be thrown in napan Her stories
Speaker 1: won tied around clients whom I'd never met, but who
Speaker 1: apparently required urgent night and consultations. I tried casually. Will
Speaker 1: any of them ever come to a dinner party? Or
Speaker 1: they too fancy for homemade pizza? Laurn's eyes glinted with
Speaker 1: something wounded. Most of them prefer to keep stuff professional.
Speaker 1: You know how this world is. Thursday came again, and
Speaker 1: with it another abrupt change of plan. I'm too white
Speaker 1: for trivia, Laurn announced over her shoulder, breezing through the
Speaker 1: hallway in a roche and Meg stuck at her brother's,
Speaker 1: so I told the crew to play without us. I
Speaker 1: might just grab a drink with Meg, or get a massage,
Speaker 1: don't wait up. As she left, she paused by the door,
Speaker 1: doubling back to pick up the same navy jacket from
Speaker 1: the last week. She wore it, despite the mildness the
Speaker 1: smell trailed after her assent is misplaced in our home
Speaker 1: as an errant stone inside a shoe. By ten that night,
Speaker 1: I was a knod of nerves, fighting down the urge
Speaker 1: to text her. I tried to distract myself of work
Speaker 1: with music, with t V, but none of it stuck.
Speaker 1: After midnight, she slipped in, cheeks ridened, mascar faintly smudged
Speaker 1: round her eyes, forced so cassle. It nearly tripped me.
Speaker 1: You're up late? Want the couple cameom, Mile, did you
Speaker 1: go out with Meg? I made my tongue light, but
Speaker 1: my heart was pounding kinda. We met up after a thing.
Speaker 1: She was white, so I didn't stay long. She hesitated, yawned,
Speaker 1: as if overwhelmed by fatigue. I'm going to crash big
Speaker 1: client tomorrow. No bags under her eyes, though no sign
Speaker 1: of exhaustion. The next day, MC texted me for the
Speaker 1: first time in weeks, just a meme, no reference to
Speaker 1: last night. When I replied, hope Lauren cheered you up
Speaker 1: after your brother's thing, there was a long lag in
Speaker 1: then oh, yeah, she's the best. It was around then
Speaker 1: that I started checking Lauren's movements with a kind of
Speaker 1: forensic attention, one I despised, one that made me feel
Speaker 1: like a trespaser inside my own marriage. After she left
Speaker 1: for work one Friday, an early meeting at new client's
Speaker 1: downtown condor, she said, I found myself in our bedroom
Speaker 1: pulling open her side of the closet were tender dread.
Speaker 1: The navy jacket with the faded sleeve patch was still there,
Speaker 1: but fresh. Perfectly pressed a receipt poking from the left pocket.
Speaker 1: This time it wasn't a bar tap, but a dry
Speaker 1: cleaning slip with Bryan's naming the customers lap. My stomach clipped.
Speaker 1: I returned it exactly as I'd found it, heart hammering
Speaker 1: our late march. Lauren's calender belonged more to go, A
Speaker 1: scent to us whole blocks mark private did not disturb
Speaker 1: purple swasfer calls, meetings, drinks. I tried not to hover,
Speaker 1: tried to fill my time with colleagues, with Chris and
Speaker 1: his new obsessions Gulf Craft beer flights, trivia up he
Speaker 1: downloaded but never played. But I always came back to
Speaker 1: the silent question, where is Lauren really and why can't
Speaker 1: she just tell me? One day, while making lunch, I
Speaker 1: heard her phone buzzing in the next room. She stepped
Speaker 1: outside to take a call. For a moment, I felt
Speaker 1: the gravity of temptation, the urge to pick it up
Speaker 1: and see, to become the guy who reads his wife's messages.
Speaker 1: I left it handshaking. I was not going to be
Speaker 1: that person. Instead, I used the moment Lauren returned to
Speaker 1: watch her face. She guarded her phone, quickly tapping out
Speaker 1: a reply before turning to me. You okay, Sam, you
Speaker 1: look stressed. Just work, I guess the last starm That night,
Speaker 1: as we lay side by side in bed, I tried
Speaker 1: to bridge the gap, my hand resting lightly on her thigh.
Speaker 1: Let's get out of town this weekend, I urged quietly.
Speaker 1: Just year in me, no plans, no phones, Ashville maybe
Speaker 1: or the coast. She exhaled a long breath. God, that's perfect,
Speaker 1: but it's not the best timing. I promised I'd cover
Speaker 1: for make she's prepping for her brother's engagement party, and
Speaker 1: then I've got the consult with the new spaw on Saturday, AILI.
Speaker 1: She leaned over, kissed me gently. I was sliding away.
Speaker 1: Let's do it soon, Okay, when it's all less nuts,
Speaker 1: I nodded, but the words echoed empty. Less nuts never came.
Speaker 1: It would be almost funny if it didn't hurt. How
Speaker 1: many people started asking after Lauren in indirect ways. A
Speaker 1: friend's birthday dinner matsa delivered to me at the drink
Speaker 1: station said trivia is not the same without her. Did
Speaker 1: she get sick of our bad puns or what? I
Speaker 1: laughed it off, but Matt's glance lingered. She ohjus, some
Speaker 1: folks said she used to be the ringleader. Now nobody
Speaker 1: knows who's coming. He shrugged, then drifted away, leaving me
Speaker 1: a wash in a sense that everyone else was aware
Speaker 1: of a drama for which I didn't have the script.
Speaker 1: On one of those clawing Sundays where pollen dusted the
Speaker 1: whole city, I walked with Christer Piedmont park idly flicking
Speaker 1: a Frisby while he talked about some officer shuffle I
Speaker 1: was supposedly involved in. I tried to confess in softer
Speaker 1: language when I fell that Lauren and I were missing
Speaker 1: each other lately at her new work pace was crazy. Chris,
Speaker 1: who had never much liked giving advice, only said, it'll
Speaker 1: even out, man, You too are solid. Just remember to
Speaker 1: show up, you know. But things weren't even out. Lauren's
Speaker 1: mouse grew more variable, sometimes animated over the top affectionate,
Speaker 1: other times glassy eyed and remote. She pinpond between eager
Speaker 1: plans and sudden cancelations. Between dull like perfect chair and
Speaker 1: the distracted silence I couldn't reach. Sunday dinner, once routine,
Speaker 1: now depended on whether she was behind on clenty briefs.
Speaker 1: Even her touch, though small reassurance, is a squeeze of
Speaker 1: my hand ruffling my hair as she passed, became rationed,
Speaker 1: almost staged. I'd reach for her and she'd slid away,
Speaker 1: a claiming I'd just need a second beep ore, I'm wiped.
Speaker 1: Can we just watch something? No big conversations, So we watch,
Speaker 1: but I wasn't sure either of us was really seeing
Speaker 1: the screen. I couldn't stop asking myself where Brian fit
Speaker 1: into all this. His presence at Trivia had seen casual,
Speaker 1: just another funny guy with sharp eyes. But more and
Speaker 1: more I saw his name floating at weird intersections of
Speaker 1: our world. Suggestive friends on Facebook, someone who now sometimes
Speaker 1: liked in Sta grumpos from people Lauren followed. Even though
Speaker 1: he and I remained only faint acquaintances, I found myself
Speaker 1: stalking his social media late at night, piecing three tagged photos,
Speaker 1: mostly landscapes, drinks, big group shots, nothing of vert. But
Speaker 1: then in one group selfie at about Lauren was in
Speaker 1: the corner, laughing, eyes closed, Brian's arm draped lightly but
Speaker 1: possessively round her shoulder. I didn't know what to do
Speaker 1: with my suspicions. To confront herr without proof would be
Speaker 1: to say to crisis for nothing, to let it go.
Speaker 1: Men lying awake, constructing scenarios more damning than anything real
Speaker 1: or less, which could sometimes feel even worse. I tried
Speaker 1: to talk it out with Chris, but at the last
Speaker 1: minute I clamed up. I couldn't bear the embarrassment, what
Speaker 1: if it was all in my head? Instead I focused
Speaker 1: on the details, the receipts that didn't make sense, the
Speaker 1: messages Lauren once shared with me now gone, the missing
Speaker 1: trivia trophy, which I'd loved only for how much she
Speaker 1: cared about it. I kept opening the closet, expecting to
Speaker 1: see some grand explanation. Maybe she'd boxed it away for
Speaker 1: a design client or let a friend borrow for luck.
Speaker 1: But nothing. Every time I raised the possibility, Laura neither
Speaker 1: avoided the question or made gentle fun of her fosseness.
Speaker 1: You do love a routine, sam, she teas, But the
Speaker 1: warmth was gone. One night after she grabbed her keys
Speaker 1: hastily and told me not to wait up a studious staff.
Speaker 1: I'll be late. I've found myself locked in our bathroom,
Speaker 1: staring at my reflection, hands braced on the sink. I
Speaker 1: felt the weight of accusation pressing down, even though I
Speaker 1: said nothing aloud. Am I jealous? Insecure? Trying to control
Speaker 1: someone who is simply outgrowing me? To make myself fully useful?
Speaker 1: I cleaned the living room, sorting the stack of games
Speaker 1: and books, realigning the shelf where the trivia trophy once sat.
Speaker 1: As I dusted, a slip of paper fluttered from between
Speaker 1: two books of faded trivia flyer scrolled with team Jennis
Speaker 1: and a series of tally marks. Someone had written Brian
Speaker 1: and VP with huts and different inks. Lawren's handwriting unmistakable.
Speaker 1: At the bottom a lipsix smere faded, but there Team
Speaker 1: Janis had been there, Joe, Chlorin and Bryan up against
Speaker 1: the rest. I read and read the silly flyer, harp
Speaker 1: pounding until I heard the front door open and Lauren's
Speaker 1: voice ring out. Sam the flyer back as quickly as
Speaker 1: I could. She breezed into the room in a wash
Speaker 1: of cold city ere cheeks glossy. Did you fall asleep?
Speaker 1: Cleaning things again, she said, teasing. She moved to loosen
Speaker 1: her necklace, then paused, watching me too closely. You okay, yeah,
Speaker 1: just tired. My voice sounded dumber, emptier than I intended
Speaker 1: meto client's insane once two hundred yards of berber carpet
Speaker 1: by next Thursday. You ever try fitting that in a
Speaker 1: mini she forced to laugh, hair tumbling from her button.
Speaker 1: We went to bed and lay side by side, not touching,
Speaker 1: neither of us speaking for a long while. I listened
Speaker 1: to her breathing a faint hitchen exshaled That made me
Speaker 1: wonder if she was awake, and whose name she whispered
Speaker 1: to herself in the dark. A few days later, intentions
Speaker 1: slid into action. Lauren left her work bag on the
Speaker 1: dining table, slipping into the shower after muttering about a
Speaker 1: glass of wine staining her dress. I stood in the
Speaker 1: kitchen staring at that bag for a full minute before
Speaker 1: giving in. I unzipped the side pocket, hot thudding in
Speaker 1: my chest. Inside I found Lauren's batter trvy not book,
Speaker 1: pages littered with scores, quips, and little sketches. Tucked in
Speaker 1: the back, almost hidden was an ANSWER's sheet from a
Speaker 1: recent trivia night, one Lauren had claimed to have missed
Speaker 1: due to a client emergency. At the top was a
Speaker 1: scrolled note in Brian's writing, Congrats team Janis Bryan plus
Speaker 1: Lauren equals dynamite. Next to it a cartoon hat the
Speaker 1: date match to night. She told me she was stuck
Speaker 1: at work. My hand shook as I thumbed through the
Speaker 1: rest of her receipt from yet another bar, this one
Speaker 1: again in Brian's name, and a set of sparkly stickers.
Speaker 1: Had never seen. Nothing incriminating, really, but the accumulation was crushing.
Speaker 1: I heard her moving up stairs, water piped creaking as
Speaker 1: the shower shut off. Desperate, I put everything back, sipped
Speaker 1: up the bag, and returned to the kitchen. But I
Speaker 1: crossed a line, one that couldn't be on cross for
Speaker 1: either of us. I felt both guilt and relief, like
Speaker 1: someone who's finally seen the forest. For the trees, fox,
Speaker 1: unbowed and ugly were lining up in plain view. That night,
Speaker 1: Laurence seemed brighter, as if she was trying on the
Speaker 1: mood like a borrow dress. She asked more about my work,
Speaker 1: suggested going to a new art exhibit, even coax meat
Speaker 1: taste a dish shed cooked for a new client. Every
Speaker 1: move was graceful and charming. I played along, smiling when
Speaker 1: I heard keeping my answers short. The following afternoon, I
Speaker 1: found an excuse to pass Lauren's studio to return a
Speaker 1: book she'd lent to make weeks ago, ostensibly for Karr
Speaker 1: was there, but the lights were out. As I walked up,
Speaker 1: I glimpsed a flurry of movement through the window. Brian Carr,
Speaker 1: unmistakably was double parked out front, engine idling From inside.
Speaker 1: I could hear a burst of laughter, Lawrence, high and clear,
Speaker 1: not muffled the way she laughed with me lately. I
Speaker 1: almost knocked then dead. Instead, I slipped the book through
Speaker 1: the mail slot and walked away fast, Hoping I hadn't
Speaker 1: been seen. I texted make a simple studio stuff going
Speaker 1: okay with Lauren to day. After two hours of silence,
Speaker 1: she replied, haven't seen her in days. You two get
Speaker 1: fabric of our shared lives was unraveling, and now I
Speaker 1: wasn't sure if anyone would acknowledge it if they saw
Speaker 1: me falling through next morning, needing some sign that I
Speaker 1: wasn't losing my mind. As crawled through our shared foto album,
Speaker 1: A foldo Laurence set up to cattle of all our
Speaker 1: travel holidays, even dinner putties. There were dozens of recent uphoads,
Speaker 1: Laurna parties, a client launches, smiling and posed. No sign
Speaker 1: of Brian even in the crowded charts. Then bro using
Speaker 1: Lauren's work tablet for old files i'd backed up, I
Speaker 1: found a set of images instinct hidden in a buried
Speaker 1: photod directory. Among design mock ups and sight visits were
Speaker 1: three clear selfies Lauren and Brian at sky lounge, arms
Speaker 1: around each other, drinks raised. One had Brian pecking her
Speaker 1: on the cheek, Lauren grinning, flushed and happy, happier than
Speaker 1: I had seen her in months. I dropped the tablet,
Speaker 1: my hand cold, the ache in my chess impossibly sharp.
Speaker 1: There was nothing left I could deny my marriage, my
Speaker 1: safest story staggered with the weight of those images. But
Speaker 1: one last stread needed to be ticked, one last voice
Speaker 1: to confirm what was unspoken everywhere I turned. I called Meg,
Speaker 1: not knowing what I'd say until her tied voice came
Speaker 1: through the line. Meg, I can I ask you something?
Speaker 1: A long, silent then, of course Sam is Lauren, is
Speaker 1: there something going on between her and Brian? Her hesitation
Speaker 1: was almost audible, breathing stall. Finally, she said, I don't
Speaker 1: want to lie to you. Laurn's been different. She's barely
Speaker 1: around even with me. Group chats are mostly her and
Speaker 1: Brian now, at least late at night. She started doing trivia,
Speaker 1: but just them, or invites only after hours. I felt
Speaker 1: all I stopped asking, So you think I couldn't finish.
Speaker 1: I don't know for sure, but Brian draws her home
Speaker 1: a lot. She tells people to keep things moll don't
Speaker 1: post photos, Sam. I'm sorry she's changed around all of us.
Speaker 1: I felt weird for weeks. A pause. You deserve better
Speaker 1: than whisper networks. Whatever's happening, Lauren's not letting anyone else in.
Speaker 1: Something broke inside me, grief maybe, or relief that I
Speaker 1: wasn't crazy. I thanked Meg. Unable to find the right words,
Speaker 1: we hung up the silence after heavy as an ocean
Speaker 1: with shaking hands. I opened Lauren's laptop and searched her
Speaker 1: work email, expecting only dry designed threads, maybe a schedule
Speaker 1: of for her calend. Instead, I found several chains between
Speaker 1: her and Brayne, ostensibly about a joint project, but lettered
Speaker 1: within Drovety plus me equals trivia royalteed suggestive emergies. One
Speaker 1: thread titled secret plans for references to late nights at
Speaker 1: rooftop bars, plans to escape North Georgia at one weekend
Speaker 1: nicknames I'd never heard. There were attachments photos of the
Speaker 1: two of them. A selfie of Lawrence sprowled on a barkouch,
Speaker 1: Brian's hand visible against her waist, no explicit declary of love,
Speaker 1: but enough to make everything plain. Suddenly, every half strange thing,
Speaker 1: Lauren's vtive glances, the block calendar, weekends, the private meetings
Speaker 1: clicked into focus. There were no more plausible denials, no
Speaker 1: more honors mistakes. Even the social air had gone bad.
Speaker 1: Our friends orbiting silently, watching the slow collapse, like witnesses
Speaker 1: to private implosion, They were powerless to stop. When she
Speaker 1: got home that night, Laura enacted as if nothing was amiss,
Speaker 1: Settling into the couch, curling up with her phone. She
Speaker 1: asked about my day, laughed at the dog's antics. I
Speaker 1: watched her, knowing that the real conversation, the one I dreaded,
Speaker 1: now hovered just out of reach, waiting to arrive not
Speaker 1: with a crash, but as the next inevitable truth, bruising
Speaker 1: in final as a harve fall. I went to bed early,
Speaker 1: stomach twisted, and lay awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping
Speaker 1: the answers might shift in the dark. But nothing did,
Speaker 1: only the slow accumulation of certainty, thick and undeniable in
Speaker 1: the quiet house. When I finally slept, adrined Louren's voice
Speaker 1: across a crowd, but her face was always tone away.
Speaker 1: In the morning, the world was unchanged, but everything inside
Speaker 1: me was different. The distance between us was no longer
Speaker 1: You're a function of suspicion or jealousy, but of facts.
Speaker 1: I could not erase the day pulse with things unsaid.
Speaker 1: I knew what I had to do next, I just
Speaker 1: didn't know how it survived it. I stood at a
Speaker 1: kitchen counter, hans still pressed flat to a col marble
Speaker 1: after hanging up with Meg, and listened as the sounds
Speaker 1: of Atlanta's morning, distant sirens, a dog barking somewhere at
Speaker 1: the block, the slow rumble of a garbage truck filled
Speaker 1: the silent spaces of our house, my house, a house
Speaker 1: that suddenly felt emptied of meaning. Every room, a quiet
Speaker 1: witnessed a story I was no longer part of. I
Speaker 1: wanted to scream, jump out of my own skin, but
Speaker 1: my voice stuck in my chest. I approove now, receipts, notes, emails,
Speaker 1: The photos on Loin's tablet makes exhausted honesty. She hadn't
Speaker 1: even tried to pretty up her confession, just let it
Speaker 1: fall between us like a drop face. I ran a
Speaker 1: thumb over the edge of the kitchen sink, feeling the
Speaker 1: ghost of Laurence an next to mine, anchoring me on
Speaker 1: trivia nights or Sunday mornings. Years of small ritual suddenly meaningless.
Speaker 1: I couldn't concentrate on anything. My phone vibrated with a
Speaker 1: message from work that I ignored, then another from Crystal lunch
Speaker 1: at Brickworks with that sat am red until the screen demned.
Speaker 1: I paced, spent a fruitless minute stacking a mug, re
Speaker 1: stacking it. Tried to eat toast, gave up after one bite.
Speaker 1: Every time the front gate rattled or a cartload out
Speaker 1: of front, I felt my breath catch, half fearful, half
Speaker 1: hopeful that Lauren would appear and explain everything, offer a
Speaker 1: reason so good it could burn away every doubt but
Speaker 1: that was impossible. There were no explanations left. I told
Speaker 1: myself I'd wait for her to come to me, to
Speaker 1: say something. First ten minutes passed, then an hour. I
Speaker 1: set the trivia flower of Team Janie Brawne m BP one,
Speaker 1: a counter and plain view, like a marker, waiting for
Speaker 1: someone to claim it. Watch the sunlight shift cross it,
Speaker 1: turning the in first blue, then faded gray. By noon,
Speaker 1: the anxiety had turned to a thick impatience, jittering in
Speaker 1: my limbs, forcing me to get up, sit down, get
Speaker 1: up again. Circle through the house. The living room felt hostile,
Speaker 1: every book, every pillow placed by Lauren's hand now grating
Speaker 1: and wrong. I opened her side of the closet, staring
Speaker 1: at the empty devot where the Triber trophy once stood,
Speaker 1: gone neatly wiped away like everything else. We'd celebrate it together. Eventually,
Speaker 1: I gave up pretending to work and grab my de jacket.
Speaker 1: Driving aimlessly around the block, I went nowhere, just moving,
Speaker 1: watching the city pass, people going about their Thursday coffee shops, playgrounds,
Speaker 1: sidewalks were Lauren and I used a stroll with her
Speaker 1: arm in mine. For a moment, I hated her for
Speaker 1: ruining every street corner in the city, for building all
Speaker 1: our routines so tightly that even silence now wore her shape.
Speaker 1: Back in the kitchen, I found myself refreshing my texts.
Speaker 1: I typed Lauren's name, opened the thread, stared at the
Speaker 1: last messages Wednesday night, bring home oat milk and love you.
Speaker 1: Can you grab raad? They seemed from another life. I
Speaker 1: started to type something now, then deleted. There was nothing
Speaker 1: I could say by texts that wouldn't trivialize what I'd uncovered,
Speaker 1: or that I could bear to see ignored. When the
Speaker 1: garage door finally hissed open mid afternoon, tires crunching on
Speaker 1: the bricks, I nearly recoiled. I listened to Lauren commonside,
Speaker 1: keys dropped on the whole table that practiced s ih
Speaker 1: she always gave to mark the end of an errand oblivious,
Speaker 1: And for a second I watched her noba clutched to
Speaker 1: her chest, hair loosened her eyes, as if nothing at
Speaker 1: all had changed. She walked into the kitchen, pausing by
Speaker 1: the counter when she saw the trivia flyer in the center.
Speaker 1: Color drained a little from her cheeks, but she forced
Speaker 1: a weak smile. You cleaning out our old junk. Her
Speaker 1: voice wavered, just a touch. I've found it in your bag,
Speaker 1: I said, steady. No accusation yet the answer she from
Speaker 1: last month, Ye said, ye, miss trivia emergency at work.
Speaker 1: She looked at me for a moment. It was just
Speaker 1: as again, a married couple with a small misunderstanding, not
Speaker 1: a bomb ticking between us. Sam, I don't. I shook
Speaker 1: my head, voiced low, and she stopped. I'd tapped the paper.
Speaker 1: Why are you lying to me? She started to answer,
Speaker 1: Stop again, sinking onto the bar stool. Her hands were shaking.
Speaker 1: I'm not don't make this a thing. Sam. I was
Speaker 1: with Meg and Brian. It was just one trivia night.
Speaker 1: I needed a break. I didn't want to fight, That's all.
Speaker 1: One night. I slid my Fernicos encounter bright with a
Speaker 1: photo of her and Brian at Skylanch, laughing, too close
Speaker 1: to be accidental. I watched her jewel set eyes going glassy.
Speaker 1: Ye said, your business was struggling. You say Brian was helping,
Speaker 1: But these aren't business dinners, are they. Her fingers went
Speaker 1: white around her notebook. She looked down, then up at me.
Speaker 1: The fight draining out of her features. He went through
Speaker 1: my things. Don't turn this back on me. My voice
Speaker 1: came out raw, unfamiliar. I only started digging because he
Speaker 1: stopped telling the truth. The house was so quiet I
Speaker 1: could hear her shallow breath. Please just She paused, then
Speaker 1: found some reserves of composure. O, K, do you want honesty.
Speaker 1: I've screwed up. I know I have, but I was scared.
Speaker 1: I was scared to tell you. I wasn't happy. That's
Speaker 1: the real story. I didn't speak. I waited for the rest,
Speaker 1: not out of kindness, but because I needed to know
Speaker 1: if she would lie all the way to the end.
Speaker 1: She stood, pacing once around the kitchen island. At first,
Speaker 1: it was nothing ook. Brian was neat, and he was funny.
Speaker 1: He felt he made me feel seen. I wasn't looking
Speaker 1: for it. Trivia was my thing arthy, But suddenly it
Speaker 1: felt like every night I came home, you were working.
Speaker 1: He hardly looked up my friends, barely talked to me.
Speaker 1: Accept about trivia. At Brian was easy. He just paid attention.
Speaker 1: He cared about what I thought, without needing me to explain. Oh,
Speaker 1: justify it. I know it sounds dumb, it sounds pathetic.
Speaker 1: I stared at the fire, unable to look at her.
Speaker 1: You could have told me, I said, softly, all these
Speaker 1: years of visaying, you'd always tell me if you needed something,
Speaker 1: if you were in trouble. Her laugh was bleak. You
Speaker 1: don't get it. I couldn't tell you because it wasn't
Speaker 1: just about being sad. I liked the secret. I felt
Speaker 1: special having something nobody else could see, including you, even Meg.
Speaker 1: I hated myself for it sometimes, but not enough to stop.
Speaker 1: I felt anger, sadness, betrayala was so intense it blurred
Speaker 1: the edges of the room. So how long I asked,
Speaker 1: the words came out too, even like I'd rehearsed them.
Speaker 1: She closed her eyes. A few months, the trivia nights,
Speaker 1: the bar, the meetings. It was more than just business,
Speaker 1: way sooner than I admitted, even to myself. And I
Speaker 1: tried to keep it just friendly. But one thing led
Speaker 1: to another. It wasn't a plan, but it happened, And
Speaker 1: now if you lied. The first time, Lauren looked straight
Speaker 1: at me, muscourage just beginning to smote under her eyes.
Speaker 1: After the first time, I thought I could contain it,
Speaker 1: that maybe I could fix it before you noticed I
Speaker 1: was wrong. I started lying about trivia, then about work,
Speaker 1: then about Meg everything. It got easier not to tell
Speaker 1: you than to face what I'd done. I shut everyone out.
Speaker 1: My voice sounded unfamiliar, trembling as I asked, Was it
Speaker 1: just trivia or more? She hesitated for a long moment. No,
Speaker 1: it was after dinners drinks. We slept together, Sam a
Speaker 1: few times, then a few more. Her hands twisted guilty.
Speaker 1: I'm not in love with him. God no, but I
Speaker 1: lost control. I let myself have this part of my
Speaker 1: life when nothing else mattered, even you. Why, I whispered,
Speaker 1: What did I do? She shook her head, stepping closer,
Speaker 1: her hands coming up as if she might touch me.
Speaker 1: It's not your fault, not really. You got busy focused,
Speaker 1: we lost our glue, Sam, But you didn't chase this.
Speaker 1: This was me. I wanted something dangerous, a place where
Speaker 1: I wasn't just the wife the host of the trivia
Speaker 1: queen Bryan wanted me because I could be whatever I
Speaker 1: wanted around him. I stepped backward. She reached for me.
Speaker 1: He made me the last to know, I said, unable
Speaker 1: to hide the pain. You didn't even let me fight
Speaker 1: for us. Her voice cracked. I was afraid it got
Speaker 1: so tangled, Sam, and I knew if I told you
Speaker 1: to be over that our friends would know, my business
Speaker 1: might suffer. I'd lose everything. And I loved you, God,
Speaker 1: I still love you, but I was hiding from the
Speaker 1: loneliness for so long I barely recognized myself. It all
Speaker 1: crashed down, the lies, the excuses, the borrowed jacket, her
Speaker 1: late nights, the friends stepping gingerly around me. I don't
Speaker 1: care about Brian, I said, for sharp. I care that
Speaker 1: you looked in my eyes and lied every day, that
Speaker 1: you build all whole world around this and let me
Speaker 1: feel crazy for asking questions. Lauren's lip was trembling. I
Speaker 1: never wanted to hurt you, but you did, I said.
Speaker 1: The weight of it settled on my chest, pinning me
Speaker 1: to the spot. I expected to feel anger, to want
Speaker 1: to rage, but instead all I felt was emptiness, like
Speaker 1: some one had opened a trap or beneath my feet
Speaker 1: and I was still falling. I'm sorry, Sam, Lauren whispered,
Speaker 1: nearly inaudible. I nodded, not trusting myself to answer. The
Speaker 1: dog barked outside, a jolt of normalcy, in a whirld
Speaker 1: that would never be normal again. I walked to the
Speaker 1: front door, opened it, and let the colder by my
Speaker 1: skin until I could speak. You need to pack a
Speaker 1: bag to night, they said, without looking at her. Stay
Speaker 1: at Meg's or wherever I need you to be gone.
Speaker 1: She didn't protest, just gathered herself, wiping her face at
Speaker 1: the back of her hand like a child. Her feet
Speaker 1: were silent against the wood as she headed down the hall,
Speaker 1: leaving the kitchen, the trivia flyer and me all adrift.
Speaker 1: The door closed with a softness that felt crueler than
Speaker 1: any slam. Alone. I drifted from room to room, unsure
Speaker 1: how to exist in the aftermath. I closed the blinds,
Speaker 1: clean dishes that weren't dirty, trying to busy my hands
Speaker 1: while my mind tumbled. I texted Chris things with Loriner
Speaker 1: over taking time off work. My voice, even in text,
Speaker 1: seemed distant. I gathered of everything that suddenly felt poisonous,
Speaker 1: Lawren's coat, the teen Janus trivia flyer, the barer receipts,
Speaker 1: and tapped them in a cardboard box at the bottom
Speaker 1: of the hull closet. The living room seemed stripped of color,
Speaker 1: my own face unfamiliar in the window reflection. Within twenty minutes,
Speaker 1: my phone buzz Meg, Lauren's sister, even an email from
Speaker 1: my boss, all checking in, but I left them unanswered.
Speaker 1: I tied a short message to our closest friends, stating
Speaker 1: that Louren and I were separating, that I needed distance
Speaker 1: in space. The short replies I got back were awkward, stilted,
Speaker 1: sprouting platitudes. I almost laughed for how predictable grief could be.
Speaker 1: I opened up the trivia app on my phone, stared
Speaker 1: at it for a long moment, then pressed and held
Speaker 1: and told the lettle ex appeared, deleted it without ceremony.
Speaker 1: The shelf where Lawrences trophy used as it was empty.
Speaker 1: I gathered every renant of that routine and packed it
Speaker 1: away one by one. I left her perfume on the
Speaker 1: bathroom counter for now, unable to touch it. I called
Speaker 1: a therapist and left a shaky voicemail, my voice barely
Speaker 1: recognizable even to me. I need someone to talk to,
Speaker 1: I said, my wife, JE died. My marriage is it's
Speaker 1: all blown up. Please call when you can. It didn't help,
Speaker 1: not yet, but at least the aft of asking for
Speaker 1: help meant I wasn't entirely erased. My sunset. I disconnected
Speaker 1: from work, sent my boss a brief note about needing
Speaker 1: days off the council, the only dinner party we'd left
Speaker 1: in our calendar. I ejected myself from the group chat
Speaker 1: with Lawrence Trivy Crew, no explanation, no final joke. When
Speaker 1: the sound of Lawrence Suki's wheels echoed on the flooring,
Speaker 1: I didn't meet her at the door. I listened as
Speaker 1: she moved quietly, sobbing softly at one point, as she
Speaker 1: zipped on and zip drawers in the bedroom, she didn't call
Speaker 1: out to me. The final thunk of the door, her
Speaker 1: leaving with whatever she could carry, was the last punctuition
Speaker 1: in a day that already felt a decade long. Everything
Speaker 1: in the apartment was too loud, the creak of floorboards,
Speaker 1: the hummer, the fridge, the pulse in my ears. I
Speaker 1: poured a drink, stood at the living room window and
Speaker 1: watched the sun sink below the city sky line. Traffic
Speaker 1: rolled past, heedless, the same as it always was. I
Speaker 1: repled Lauren's words, her apologies, her justifications. Part of me
Speaker 1: wanted to text her even now, demnchardy comfort, some last
Speaker 1: oance of honesty or closure, But each time I considered
Speaker 1: it I found only ache, so I let the idea slip.
Speaker 1: I reached over and gently set the trivia fly on
Speaker 1: the counter, flattening it out with trembling fingers. The night prescian,
Speaker 1: thick and quiet. The city blurred an incomprehensible sprawl under
Speaker 1: the windows. I realized, with the flatness of true grief,
Speaker 1: that this was actually the beginning, or not the aftermath.
Speaker 1: When laurence sister called her voice type with the need
Speaker 1: to help, I answered only to say I need time. Please,
Speaker 1: don't ask me to explain. She exhaled, understanding. I didn't
Speaker 1: say more. The next morning, the house was stripped down, silent,
Speaker 1: Lawrence's side of the closet into a third. I found
Speaker 1: two of her sweaters and left them folded on the
Speaker 1: foot of the bed. Old habit. Everything I touched seemed
Speaker 1: to belong to some one else. I counseled our silent routines,
Speaker 1: turned our phone reminders for trivia, replaced the photo on
Speaker 1: my desk with an old one of the two of
Speaker 1: us from our very first hike together. I stared at
Speaker 1: it a long time, feeling nothing but loss. The group
Speaker 1: text once a constant fell quite to only make senda
Speaker 1: short awkward heart emoji, and then nothing. The first email
Speaker 1: from the therapist came before lunch. I didn't open it
Speaker 1: right away, but it felt like a future version of
Speaker 1: myself pushing into the room. I let myself cry, real, racking,
Speaker 1: ugly tears that came with no warning and left me
Speaker 1: gasping for air. I thought about all the little things
Speaker 1: that Fred did, Lauren and me together at the private jokes,
Speaker 1: our knotted circle of friends, the Thursday safeties now just absences.
Speaker 1: I realized none of those routines could protect me from
Speaker 1: the truth. Whatever I'd believed about us, we'd both let
Speaker 1: go of the thread. Later that day, when a friend
Speaker 1: called about trivia, I didn't answer. Chris sent a well
Speaker 1: meaning call me any time, to which I replied only
Speaker 1: not ready. It was true I'd lost my partner, but
Speaker 1: I'd also lost my sure footing inside the world we
Speaker 1: built together the trivia box. Finally, I tucked away on
Speaker 1: a top shelf behind winter boots I might never wear again.
Speaker 1: As I reached up, a tiny plastic duck fell out,
Speaker 1: rolling under the sofa, I let it go. Near midnight,
Speaker 1: I sat alone in the silent house, looking at the
Speaker 1: city to the living room, window that Lauren once insisted
Speaker 1: we washed together every spring. The lights outside blurred, yellow strings,
Speaker 1: breaking and reforming, all those at land A highways flowing on.
Speaker 1: I traced the trivia flies still on the counter, one
Speaker 1: edged horn. Some of Lauren's quick nose faded to the
Speaker 1: point of a legibility. I found myself whispering, almost without
Speaker 1: realizing it. She's gone, Sam And for the first time
Speaker 1: since all of it, the words felt final. I picked
Speaker 1: up the flier, careful not to comple it, and walk
Speaker 1: slowly to the kitchen trash can. I stood for a
Speaker 1: moment with it poised in my hand, seeing in its
Speaker 1: faded ink the whole shape of our life together, the
Speaker 1: mystery in the pane, and that finally reducible answer. I
Speaker 1: dropped it in the bag, heard the paper settle, and,
Speaker 1: with the breath I didn't know i'd been holding, closed
Speaker 1: the lid. The window's reflection caught my face. As I
Speaker 1: toned off the light, the city glimmerred behind me, vast
Speaker 1: and indifferent. For now that was the world I had
Speaker 1: in the shadows, quiet the air, finally free of her profime,
Speaker 1: and let the silence settle. I drifted through the apartment,
Speaker 1: the hush, settling over everything oppressive and implacable. There were noises,
Speaker 1: not from Loreen o'er the street anymore, but inside the walls,
Speaker 1: wood creaking, the radiator ticking as e'er warked through its
Speaker 1: old veins. I walked into the bedroom and addly smooth
Speaker 1: the covers on her side, then stopped myself, hand poisoned
Speaker 1: mid air, I felt the pole to keep our routines alive,
Speaker 1: the old charatik impulse, But there was no hour any more.
Speaker 1: I couldn't bring myself even to lie down. Instead, I
Speaker 1: sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees,
Speaker 1: staring at the den in the pillow where her head
Speaker 1: once rested. Before all this, when we fought, which was rare,
Speaker 1: there was always crept, a sense that each cut had
Speaker 1: a corresponding apology, that we performed the repair with practice care.
Speaker 1: Now no scrip applied. I pictured her somewhere across the
Speaker 1: city at Megg's, made curled up and sobbing oorils out
Speaker 1: in the downtown dark, walking as lost as I felt.
Speaker 1: Maybe she wasn't even sorry now, maybe she was only relieved.
Speaker 1: I tried to imagine what I would say to her
Speaker 1: if she came back to night. Would I scream, but
Speaker 1: just ask her to repeat it all anchor me in
Speaker 1: her version. Even if it was a lie, I couldn't
Speaker 1: resolve whether I wanted her back, not even for conversation,
Speaker 1: not even for the break a commotional rush of a
Speaker 1: final argument. The need to make sense of things, to
Speaker 1: stitch them together, was gone. All that remained was the ache,
Speaker 1: the throb at the center of the apartment. I found
Speaker 1: myself making tea on reflex, filling the silence with the
Speaker 1: kettle's hiss, the ordinary thrum of life it i'd known it.
Speaker 1: The kitchen felt hostile, now an alien landscape. I opened
Speaker 1: the fridge, saw the yogurt she bore, the little jaws
Speaker 1: of homemade pickles. She liked everything ordinary and offensive in
Speaker 1: its persistence. I slammed it shut, rattling the magnet's lorn
Speaker 1: had arranged into a jerked month's back. The clatter startled me.
Speaker 1: I waited for her laughter, for her chiding, careful chief,
Speaker 1: but the silence answered. Above the sink, a window looked
Speaker 1: out at the backyard, the patio where I'd found Lauren
Speaker 1: and Brian and Meghan, the soft spring dark where I'd
Speaker 1: first felt the start of dread. The light twinkled in
Speaker 1: the garden and touched too cheerful now of the string
Speaker 1: Bulb's lor and had wound with so much care. My
Speaker 1: phone pained. This time. It was Brian, of all people,
Speaker 1: a number I didn't have saved, but straightforward enough after
Speaker 1: all these months, he texted, I'm sorry, truly didn't mean
Speaker 1: for any of this to happen. I stared for a
Speaker 1: long time before deleting the message. I wanted to respond
Speaker 1: with fury, with curses, with all the clever lines I
Speaker 1: would never be able to say without trembling, But nothing
Speaker 1: would make a difference. There was no comfort in imagining
Speaker 1: how his guilt felt, or whether it was real. I
Speaker 1: was beyond caring about his motivations, beyond needing his explanations.
Speaker 1: Another hour crawled by. I found myself opening the closet,
Speaker 1: staring at the rows of Laurence shoes lined up in patents, boots, sneakers,
Speaker 1: flats like pieces, and a memory puzzle. I studied a
Speaker 1: single scuff on her favorite pair, thought hazily of the
Speaker 1: night we danced once on Peachtree after a trivia whinn
Speaker 1: hrain washing the city, the world small and private. I
Speaker 1: closed the door, carefully, sealing the memory back. Hunger finally
Speaker 1: forced me to eat. I chewed absently and hum to
Speaker 1: the taste. Every forkful felt like an obligation performed for
Speaker 1: a future I didn't believe in. I glanced again at
Speaker 1: the kitchen counter, half expecting Lorne's keys, her open notebook,
Speaker 1: her breezy how was the day, but the emptiness he
Speaker 1: on wide of them before. At some point, a heavy
Speaker 1: knock rattled the front door. For a flicker of a second,
Speaker 1: expected Lauren romossful suit case in hand, ready to plead,
Speaker 1: or beg or explain some new negotiation. Instead it was
Speaker 1: Meg as read ba jaw set, standing there as if
Speaker 1: afraid to enter the threshold. Ies. I have her things,
Speaker 1: she said, quietly, holding out afolded jacket, a bundle charger,
Speaker 1: some notebooks. I stepped aside and let her in. She
Speaker 1: put the items carefully on the whole bench, A hand
Speaker 1: shaking sam I'm sorry, she said, I know none of
Speaker 1: this is fair. I nodded for it too tight for words.
Speaker 1: She doesn't know I'm here. I just you should know
Speaker 1: if she's not herself either, Meg began, voice trembling. I
Speaker 1: don't mean excuses. I just mean you can. You can
Speaker 1: call me if you need or not. I'll go. There
Speaker 1: were no words for this rift, no self for the awkwardness.
Speaker 1: I reached out, unsure whether a hug was allowed, but
Speaker 1: she was already backing up. Jess, You're not alone, even
Speaker 1: when it feels like it. I am christ I'm sorry, Sam.
Speaker 1: She left me standing in the foy, jacket in hand.
Speaker 1: When her cock peeled away. The door closed softly, but
Speaker 1: it shook the floor. Back in the kitchen, I noticed
Speaker 1: the jackets still carried the ghost of Bryanne's cologne, barely damasque.
Speaker 1: I almost threw it out of the window, but stopped
Speaker 1: something stubborn or refusal to let Laurence betrayal and make
Speaker 1: who I was what I valued. I folded it, placed
Speaker 1: it in the pile of her things a mass by
Speaker 1: the door, and turned away. I tried to tax Chris
Speaker 1: to apologize for dropping off the face of the earth
Speaker 1: post announcement, but only got as far as hate before
Speaker 1: e raising it. It felt absurd to reach for small
Speaker 1: talk when the foundation of everything had been shadowed. It
Speaker 1: wasn't just Lauren I missed, It was the wab of people,
Speaker 1: the little community. Drovia Knight had built the sense of
Speaker 1: belonging that threaded through every friend and partner and joke.
Speaker 1: Now there would be fishers, people would chwo sides were
Speaker 1: just stripted, intimidated by the blust raetius. I cracked a window,
Speaker 1: like cold city air, floed in, shivering through August. It
Speaker 1: felt good to feel something real, even if it was discomfort.
Speaker 1: For the first time in days. Afflaked on music, not
Speaker 1: Lauren's playlists, not anything from our years together, but a
Speaker 1: Rundom album, staticky jazz that filled the space, pushing back
Speaker 1: the silence. I cleaned vigorously, as if somehowed the simple
Speaker 1: act of oordicab restowed the old sanctity to my home.
Speaker 1: The spun has appeared from corners I rarely touched. I
Speaker 1: found receipt stuffed in corners, noun damning just to tritus
Speaker 1: of the before times. I paused in the hallway, staring
Speaker 1: at the closet door of the guest room, which Lauren
Speaker 1: had claimed for her designed project Overflow. Now it was
Speaker 1: just filled with boxes, her business cards, rolls of wallpaper,
Speaker 1: bolts of fabric spilling out. I push the door open,
Speaker 1: and airless some the space met me her world but
Speaker 1: not mine, a world to be accounted for, grieved but
Speaker 1: not rescued. That night, the insognia was different and not frantic,
Speaker 1: but spent, drained. I didn't even bother with the bedroom,
Speaker 1: instead lying on the living room rug as on the ceiling,
Speaker 1: where string lights still cast in focus shapes through dusty glass.
Speaker 1: I let the cold seep through me, neither angry nor resign,
Speaker 1: thinking nothing, just breathing, just being. I'm mourning, I found
Speaker 1: myself responding to Miss Cole's a quick chatter with my boss. Yes,
Speaker 1: I need a few more days, thank you. In a
Speaker 1: short choking message to Lauren's sister, I'll return her mail
Speaker 1: if it comes. Tell her that practicalities wore down the
Speaker 1: sharp point of pane, rounding it into dull acceptance. I
Speaker 1: spoke briefly to Chris, whose voice sounded nervous, thinly hopeful
Speaker 1: as he asked, do you want company? I declined, not unkindly,
Speaker 1: not yet, but thanks really. He offered to handle things
Speaker 1: at work for me, said he'd cover the trivia pool
Speaker 1: so nobody would hassle me. What surprised me the absence
Speaker 1: of rage. It was grief, not fury. That's at the
Speaker 1: rhythm of these days. I didn't want her suffering or begging,
Speaker 1: or even to see Brian's ruin. Even if my pride
Speaker 1: tried to script something else. The injury lived elsewhere, hollow
Speaker 1: behind the ribs, a hush where a life used to sit, comfortable, unremarked, invincible,
Speaker 1: a thought I found that a still moved through the
Speaker 1: house like we were sharing it, tiptoin in the mornings,
Speaker 1: not turning on the overheads in case at would wicker,
Speaker 1: glancing in the mirror of for a sign she might
Speaker 1: come down the hall. Slowly, the memory decayed. I cooked
Speaker 1: breakfast for one, poured a single cup of coffee, read
Speaker 1: the paper in silence, heard every tick of the wall clock.
Speaker 1: Every friend who messaged me now had to rehearse phrase
Speaker 1: if you need anything, let me know. There was kindness
Speaker 1: in it, but also distance. Nobody wanted to get too
Speaker 1: close to the wound. I didn't blame them. Lauren stopped texting,
Speaker 1: stopped emiling. The space she left behind had no shape,
Speaker 1: but it was enough for me to begin making decisions.
Speaker 1: I started assembling things Lauren would need, back clothes, business papers,
Speaker 1: sample books, and made a mental note to leave them
Speaker 1: on Meg's porch, not out of anger, but because closure
Speaker 1: doesn't come from claiming to what belonged to some one else.
Speaker 1: For everything assorted, there were reminders that couldn't be boxed
Speaker 1: or erased. A sticker half peeled on the fridge, or
Speaker 1: shop handwriting on a posted eggs burrout lines for Drivia night,
Speaker 1: a small chip in her favor at s a raamic mark.
Speaker 1: They caught the light, as if let for memory alone.
Speaker 1: No answers to the old questions appeared. What if I
Speaker 1: had done just one thing differently, skipped a meeting, said
Speaker 1: I love you in some missing moment, pressed harder when
Speaker 1: the distance first crept in. There were no satisfying her rites,
Speaker 1: no speech to summon her back from the place she
Speaker 1: had gone, not just at the door, but out of
Speaker 1: reach forever. I kept the therapists appointment. I'm marked time
Speaker 1: by it a small north star amid the confusionist stuttering
Speaker 1: first word effort to move through something so tightly woven
Speaker 1: into identity had mistaken it all for permanence. As I
Speaker 1: walked back from the mail books late that afternoon, I
Speaker 1: passed the ult Trivia box, still on the shelf by
Speaker 1: the hall. My hand hovered over it. I contemplated tossing it,
Speaker 1: burning it, smashing it against the alley bricks, but instead
Speaker 1: I slid it gently into a storage bin, wrapped in
Speaker 1: a towel. I wasn't ready to destroy memories, not yet,
Speaker 1: but I needed them out of sight. Evening settled into
Speaker 1: the apartment with the sound of distant rain. I sat
Speaker 1: on the floor of the living room, knees pulled up,
Speaker 1: head resting against the couch. I watched car streak across
Speaker 1: into sections outside the window, brake lights winking rid against
Speaker 1: wed ashot. All the while the same realization pressed on me.
Speaker 1: This was my world, now unbuffered, unmirrored, newly catastrophically mine.
Speaker 1: None of us would end to night, none of the rawners,
Speaker 1: none of the jagged points where Lauren's absence start at
Speaker 1: my routines. But for the first time, the truth no
Speaker 1: longer shocked. It simply was la rain, like nightfall, inevitable
Speaker 1: as the city shifting, and personal grace beyond my glass.
Speaker 1: At last, just before midnight, I stood and flicked off
Speaker 1: the last lamp. Through the dark, my hands found the
Speaker 1: window handle. Laren always made me close, fussing about drag
Speaker 1: I pressed my forehead to the cool glass that condensation
Speaker 1: collect as I breathe quietly. There was no more story
Speaker 1: to chase, no explanation left n spoken, only me in
Speaker 1: the solid house, the uld trivia flier tucked out of sight,
Speaker 1: the puzzle solve, if not healed. For now, that was enough.
Speaker 1: I drew back, let the dark saddle, and turned away.