Speaker 1: It's Saturday morning, and the apartment feels oddly huge with
Speaker 1: just me, and it's a thin hush hining between the
Speaker 1: exposed brick walls and the sunlight, the crawls and through
Speaker 1: slatted blinds. I'm sitting by the window with a mug
Speaker 1: of coffee, growing cold, hands wrapped around the ceramic leg.
Speaker 1: Somehow that will borrow me some warmth, even as outside
Speaker 1: the world wakes up in waves. I listen for the
Speaker 1: echo of Jamie's footsteps, the soft scuffle on our faded
Speaker 1: runner by the door. Jamie's up earlier than I am, again,
Speaker 1: moving around carefully, trying not to waken me, but I'm
Speaker 1: already half awake listening. There's the zip and tug of
Speaker 1: the new running tights we picked up together last month,
Speaker 1: tacks only just cut off, the swish of a windbreaker,
Speaker 1: the clatter of keys being dropped and scooped up. I
Speaker 1: tell myself it should be endearing, this new ritual, but
Speaker 1: something about it needles at me like a pebble mushoe.
Speaker 1: I glimpse Jamie in the small hallway mirror. She stands
Speaker 1: checking her phone. She lifts her chin, runs a hand
Speaker 1: through her short, dark hair. Hair there. Until recently, she
Speaker 1: never bothered to tame before stepping out for coffee runs
Speaker 1: or groceries. She's changed, not so anyone would point and
Speaker 1: say it, maybe, but enough that I hear it in
Speaker 1: the music drifting from the bathroom as she gets ready,
Speaker 1: indie bands I've never heard of, all ponchy tempos and bright,
Speaker 1: earnest forces filling up the show esteem with something insistent, restless. Outside,
Speaker 1: I see a blonde guy in a reflective Vessu's name,
Speaker 1: I'll later learn, is saying, bouncing on his heels by
Speaker 1: the curb. Jamie gives her reflection another once over, pockets
Speaker 1: her earbits, and calls out a two cheery SeeU. And
Speaker 1: a couple hours her voice is lighter, pitched for a
Speaker 1: version of me who isn't worrying have fun, I say,
Speaker 1: aiming for casual, but my words tangle in the doorway, unfinished.
Speaker 1: From the window, I watch her job towards Ane, who
Speaker 1: grins and fiss bumps her at the two of them,
Speaker 1: falling into step like they've done this forever. I caught
Speaker 1: the way they lean in to talk as they take
Speaker 1: off toward the river path, already laughing about something private
Speaker 1: Jamie's face flickers through a thousand different moods in half
Speaker 1: a second, tension replaced by something open, almost Katie. If
Speaker 1: I squint, this could be a scene from anyone's relationship.
Speaker 1: Partner's discovering new hobbies, trying to be healthier, connecting with
Speaker 1: local communities. I ought to be happy, or at least pleased, write,
Speaker 1: But there's a small trader's hitching my chest, a hesitant,
Speaker 1: bristling place that warn't relax. I sip my coffee and
Speaker 1: wonder if this disquiet is normal, or if it's a
Speaker 1: start of something else, something I haven't yet put a
Speaker 1: shape or name to. I ask myself, shouldn't I be
Speaker 1: happy for her? Why do I feel so uneasy? I
Speaker 1: stare at the coffee mouk, feeling the echo of her
Speaker 1: running shoes fading down the street, and wait for the
Speaker 1: feeling to pass. It doesn't. The truth is Jamie and
Speaker 1: I have been orbiting each other in this city for
Speaker 1: close to eight years, married for six We met at
Speaker 1: neighborhood street festival, the kind with food trucks, bad cover bands,
Speaker 1: and little kids getting painted as tiger's I remember, with
Speaker 1: the bittersweet precision that refroactive worry brings. How easily Jamie
Speaker 1: became the center of any moment. She wore a red
Speaker 1: bandanna tied pirate style to keep her hair off her face,
Speaker 1: was holding two tacos in one hand and gesturing with
Speaker 1: the other, telling a story about getting lost in the subway.
Speaker 1: I was with friends from my first design gig, but
Speaker 1: I laugh cut through everything, and when our eyes met,
Speaker 1: it was a quiet shock, like some inflict on a
Speaker 1: back light behind a crowd. People always like an attraction
Speaker 1: to lightning, but for me, it was more like noticing
Speaker 1: fresh air after you've been inside too long. Jamie and
Speaker 1: I me the quietless making overthinker, and her the spinball
Speaker 1: machine of jokes and ideas and invitations. Shouldn't have worked,
Speaker 1: but I was smettin', which meant everyone else was doomed
Speaker 1: to play catch up. We move in together within a year,
Speaker 1: to this apartment with high windows and battered floors that
Speaker 1: had been someone's art studio. Wants. Our friends, the ones
Speaker 1: who now try to wrangle us all into dinner parties,
Speaker 1: watched us become a kind of shorthand fustibility. I think
Speaker 1: on Sunday nights we'd cook together, Jamie mixing up a
Speaker 1: lazy shackshico roofing on Brecas burritos, me fussing over the playlist.
Speaker 1: We worked side by side on freelance and day job disasters,
Speaker 1: conned each other after tough meetings, and always always made
Speaker 1: tan for a share drink on the fire escape when
Speaker 1: the weather was good. I never understood people who said
Speaker 1: the spark fades. For us, it just got cozier, like
Speaker 1: learning a tune inside out. Jamie came from a huge family,
Speaker 1: allowed and affectionate, always up for one more round of
Speaker 1: cord or wine. Me my folks bled up when I
Speaker 1: was ten. Conness and my family always felt a little
Speaker 1: stage brittle at the edges. That's part of why Jamie stead,
Speaker 1: and it's meant so much. She was my anchor at
Speaker 1: the person I trusted not to pack up her half
Speaker 1: of the cause at and move on when things got stressful.
Speaker 1: If you'd ask me six months ago what would have
Speaker 1: to happen for me to doubt that, I'd have laughed.
Speaker 1: Trust didn't seem fragile. It was just the air we
Speaker 1: lived in. Things started to fray imperceptibly. We're both thirty
Speaker 1: two with jobs that pay enough to keep us in
Speaker 1: ardisinal bread and addings with friends. Meet a graphic designer
Speaker 1: who mostly works from home. Jamie, a marketing manager with
Speaker 1: a reasonable commute, decent hours. Our share of calendar used
Speaker 1: to be filled with glass clinking brunches and birthdays. But
Speaker 1: over the past few months, something about Jamie's schedule slipped
Speaker 1: out of sync with mine. It was subtle at first,
Speaker 1: Jamie started leaving earlier for work, saying she wanted time
Speaker 1: to clear her head with a walk. She'd work late
Speaker 1: more often, or stay out for Happy Hour. Nothing wild,
Speaker 1: always traceable if I asked. But then the Saturday runs began.
Speaker 1: I was baffled. Honestly, Jamie had always said exercise was
Speaker 1: a necessary evil, one she preferred to avoid at all costs.
Speaker 1: Our inside joke was how she only raman chased the
Speaker 1: first morning she showed up in shiny, brand new trainers
Speaker 1: and a matching jacket. The receipts still called up in
Speaker 1: the back pocket. I want to do something just for myself,
Speaker 1: she announced, bouncing on her toes. I remember looking at her,
Speaker 1: blinking away. Sleep you going to run? Let go for
Speaker 1: a run, run, she laughed. Don't get used to her.
Speaker 1: Might just be to day. She was gone for almost
Speaker 1: two hours. Caane back flushed and buzzing, talking about positive
Speaker 1: endorphins in the group she met at the neighborhood running club.
Speaker 1: That might have been it. Honestly, lots of people hit
Speaker 1: thirty and discover obscure hobbies, then abandon them. Friends of
Speaker 1: ours got into paddle boarding, fermended foods, the slow cycling movement.
Speaker 1: I told myself it would last three weeks, collapse under
Speaker 1: the weight of boredom and chin splints, but Jenny stuck
Speaker 1: with it. Each Saturday, the ritual deepened oatmeal prind in
Speaker 1: the fridge overnight and a ray of protein shakes replacing
Speaker 1: the lazy cossus we used to split. She started shooting
Speaker 1: me Spotify links to songs she said make running bearable.
Speaker 1: I'd lessen, sometimes at my desk, sometimes in the shower,
Speaker 1: and they went bad, but they didn't sound like her,
Speaker 1: all glittery since a rhythic pep nothing like the moody
Speaker 1: rock should favored for the past decade. One Wednesday night,
Speaker 1: I came home from a late brainswum session and found
Speaker 1: Jamie alone at the counter, laptop open, scrolling a running
Speaker 1: blog and sipping something green and viscous from a mason jar.
Speaker 1: Ye joined a colt and didn't tell me. I teased
Speaker 1: drop in my bag on a chair. Is that like kill?
Speaker 1: She grinned, genuine but somehow also distant. Don't knock it
Speaker 1: till you try it. Besides, you're always saying I should
Speaker 1: be healthier. I shrugged, letting the joke hang in the air.
Speaker 1: She left early again the next day. It wasn't all
Speaker 1: dramatic at first. Our routines just shifted imperceptibly. Dinner together
Speaker 1: became more rare. Moving nights yielded to Jamie's fatigue from
Speaker 1: long runs. She still asked about my project. She said
Speaker 1: she liked hearing my design was, but sometimes her eyes
Speaker 1: glazed over, phone buzzing with new notifications. She defended these
Speaker 1: moments as grouped chat staff their funny. I promised you'd
Speaker 1: like them. Sometimes she'd laugh at a message and flip
Speaker 1: the phone face down before I could glance at it.
Speaker 1: I had to remind myself all relationships change, right, people
Speaker 1: grow hobby ship. If Jamie wanted healthier habits and new
Speaker 1: social circles, maybe it wasn't about me. Maybe my knees
Speaker 1: was just garden variety. Jealousy, some left of her ache
Speaker 1: from parents who bailed on how it's stuff instead of
Speaker 1: talking about it. Still, the feeling grew teeth. Three satur
Speaker 1: days ago, Jamie was up before dawn, already stretching in
Speaker 1: the living room. When I woke up, she pat breakfast
Speaker 1: in a gym bag and was bouncing, energized like a
Speaker 1: kid on the first day of camp. He will never
Speaker 1: believe it. There's a trail half marathon in a few months,
Speaker 1: she chirked. Some of the club members are signing up.
Speaker 1: I might actually train for her. I made a joke
Speaker 1: about wilfully running in public, but inside there was a
Speaker 1: pangol wish for all lazy mornings, for the version of
Speaker 1: Jamie who would pretend to hate every step and collapse
Speaker 1: into brunchwood gruns. Instead, she tapped out a fast response
Speaker 1: to someone as her phone lit up, see you soon.
Speaker 1: I studied to name the flash, a series of initials
Speaker 1: and a fire emoji. Not Clara, not Ben, not anyone
Speaker 1: from her old college stories. The message vanished as quickly
Speaker 1: as it appeared. Jamie was at the job before I
Speaker 1: could ask about it. After her run, she lingered in
Speaker 1: the lobby again. Finally, She came up flushed, cheeked, hair
Speaker 1: wet from a quick shower in a gym upstairs. Her
Speaker 1: mood was bright, while almost like she'd have one espresso
Speaker 1: too many. I hit a new personal bess, she announced,
Speaker 1: spinning around as she entered. They all cheer for me
Speaker 1: as I finished. I don't think I've ever run that fast.
Speaker 1: I tried to joke, I almost didn't recognize you. Who
Speaker 1: are you? And what did you do with my wife?
Speaker 1: She laughed, and for a moment I relaxed, But then
Speaker 1: as I opened the fridge to start pancakes, the stupidly
Speaker 1: simple breakfast she always claimed solved any bad mood, she
Speaker 1: stopped me. Actually, could we go to that vegan cafe
Speaker 1: by the park, she suggested. The running group always goes
Speaker 1: there after their tempiece scrambles. Incredible, I hesitated, spatulot in
Speaker 1: hand as she finger combed her hair and reached for
Speaker 1: another playlist to put on. Something in my chest tightened
Speaker 1: the faint premonition of standing on the outside of a
Speaker 1: fogged up window looking in. I told myself to get
Speaker 1: over it, but I was weary, noticing too much, wanting
Speaker 1: to prove to myself it was nothing Was I just
Speaker 1: being possessive? Wasn't this what people meant when they talked
Speaker 1: about letting your partner. The next weekend, Jamie baled last
Speaker 1: minute on our old tradition Saturday brunch at Mariel's with
Speaker 1: Kay and our other friends. She texted in the group
Speaker 1: chat were rapid fire apologies, running clubs prepping for the half,
Speaker 1: can't let the team down, A series of running emojis,
Speaker 1: A hastily snat selfie in the park, unfamiliar faces beaming
Speaker 1: at her side. I felt silly for being let down?
Speaker 1: Was I competing with her running group? I shook it off,
Speaker 1: but then scrolling back through Jamie's feed found it getting
Speaker 1: over and by her inspirational up its, jokes about training,
Speaker 1: food picks from the cafe, A group shot with a
Speaker 1: caption team goals. Most of the faces were strangers. When
Speaker 1: Jamie came home, she jumped straight into the shower, even
Speaker 1: though she didn't seem that sweaty. She sound to herself
Speaker 1: as the water ran, that same new music spelling out
Speaker 1: louder than usual. By the time she finished, a phone
Speaker 1: buzz again, another unfamiliar number initials, an emoji fire this time,
Speaker 1: or sometimes a lock symbol. She silenced it, catching me
Speaker 1: looking and grinned as if disarming me. Group chats out
Speaker 1: of control. Honestly, I can't keep up. She reached for
Speaker 1: her shake and flopped on the couch, turning the t
Speaker 1: V too a bacon competition. You hungry or did you
Speaker 1: already eat? I waited for you. Thought maybe we'd do pancakes,
Speaker 1: I said, hoping. She thummed her phone. Let's just story something,
Speaker 1: maybe that vegan spot. Yea, it became a pattern. I'd
Speaker 1: offer our old favorites, lazy cheese, almets, costs us with
Speaker 1: maple syrup, breakfast burritos, and Jamie dumod shuffling me toward
Speaker 1: tofu and she bowls and whatever music was most popular
Speaker 1: with her new friends. The playlist gradually took over the speakers,
Speaker 1: bands with names like Satellite Hearts and the New Animocks,
Speaker 1: bands neither of us would have willingly picked up. Months ago.
Speaker 1: My first real jot came by accident one Thursday. Looking
Speaker 1: for a charger in Jamie's bag, I spotted a folded
Speaker 1: up receipt from a specialty cafe across the city, nowhere
Speaker 1: near our neighborhood, nowhere near the supposed running routes. The
Speaker 1: date was last Saturday, The time was after brunch, after
Speaker 1: the run should have ended. When she told me she
Speaker 1: was at the park, curling down with a group. When
Speaker 1: I poked, Jamie's replies got fuzzy. Oh, everyone wanted coffee,
Speaker 1: but the place near the river was packed. Chlora said
Speaker 1: there's this other spot, so we drove. She didn't mention Ben,
Speaker 1: who a few days earlier she'd claimed had been her
Speaker 1: ride home. Wait, I thought Ben drove you, I said,
Speaker 1: drawing out the question. She blinked, then smiled. Here, but
Speaker 1: Clara was with us. She picked the spot. I think
Speaker 1: Ben was just hungry. Why I shrugged. But something about
Speaker 1: the way she darted her eyes to her phone set
Speaker 1: every part of me on edge. It became a game
Speaker 1: trying to pin down the details of Jamie's running life.
Speaker 1: Sometimes the club met at the river trail, sometimes at
Speaker 1: the city Park, sometimes miles away. The cast kept changing.
Speaker 1: One week, Jamie talked about Clara, her running wingwoman, who
Speaker 1: was hilarious, always pushing everyone to do one more lap.
Speaker 1: Another week it was Ben, who apparently knew the best
Speaker 1: post run taco stands. But when I tried to ask
Speaker 1: about them. Jamie's responses grew thinner, like she was talking
Speaker 1: about characters from a distant TV show, all texture and
Speaker 1: no substance. Newgear popped up a fancy sat of wireless
Speaker 1: athletic hefphones better than anything I own, arrived by mail.
Speaker 1: Jamie shrugged when I asked about them. They are on sale.
Speaker 1: Music's everything when you run a weird a knees kept
Speaker 1: me compulsively checking our shared credit card app. Little charge
Speaker 1: is piled up, membership at a premium Jim, which Jamie
Speaker 1: never mentioned, tickets to a concert for a band I'd
Speaker 1: never heard of that played the city last month. When
Speaker 1: I asked about the gin bill, Jamie waved it off.
Speaker 1: Everyone from the club signed up for a group rate
Speaker 1: were splitting it. Since when do you go to the gym?
Speaker 1: I pressed, she bristles, glancing at her phone. It's just
Speaker 1: for meet ups. If the wedd's bad, honestly, it's nothing.
Speaker 1: Don't make it weird. Trying to be gracious, I dropped it,
Speaker 1: but even our friends noticed Jamie's absence. Hey, our mutual
Speaker 1: confidante since college texted me after brunch. Hey you ok,
Speaker 1: she typed. Feels like Jamie's kind of a mae these days.
Speaker 1: She seems different, everything cool. I started to type back,
Speaker 1: wanted to explain who at least to claim I wasn't worried,
Speaker 1: but I sopped myself. Just send a vague yeah, all good,
Speaker 1: she's just busy with work stuff too. Later, standing at
Speaker 1: the mirror brushing my teeth, I caught Jamie watching me once,
Speaker 1: a fleeting, distant look in her eyes. She smiled when
Speaker 1: I turned you okay, yeah, I lied duck into spit.
Speaker 1: Jamie's phone habitche it where before she leave it abandoned
Speaker 1: on the kitchen counter. Now she seemed to keep it
Speaker 1: glue to her side, face down every time I passed
Speaker 1: the table. If a chirped during dinner, she'd silence it,
Speaker 1: murmur it can wait, and go back to stabbing at
Speaker 1: her roast to carrots, but her thumb would twitch restlessly
Speaker 1: until she could look. One afternoon, I arranged to meet
Speaker 1: Kay and Jordan at our usual cafe for a late lunch.
Speaker 1: Jedloke from a week of work hale. I nearly crossed
Speaker 1: straight into Jamie as she exited, her hair still damp
Speaker 1: post run, wearing clothes I'd never seen before, not just new,
Speaker 1: but trendy, like something off one of those influence of
Speaker 1: pages she used to roll her eyes at. She froze,
Speaker 1: clutching her phone, tapped behind a cluster of three running friends,
Speaker 1: the only one of whom I recognized from Instagra. For
Speaker 1: a beat, her face went blank, as if caught off guard.
Speaker 1: Then she flashed me a tea bright grin. Hey didn't
Speaker 1: see you there, she said. We were just leaving, ye,
Speaker 1: meeting up with some one yea Kay and Jordan. I
Speaker 1: ductor hug, feeling her friend's eyes flicker over me. Ye,
Speaker 1: guy's done running already. Kind of a short one to day.
Speaker 1: She hitched next week's our big prep, you know, Oh well,
Speaker 1: maybe see you at home. She nodded, held my gaze
Speaker 1: for a half second two long, then turned and murmured
Speaker 1: something to her crew. They faded down the block, laughing
Speaker 1: at some private joke. I watched her go, heart pounding
Speaker 1: in my throat. I know that feeling some one you
Speaker 1: love but can't quite see. That night, as Jamie's left,
Speaker 1: I pulled out my phone and found the Running Club's
Speaker 1: Instagram page. I clicked through photos, slick group shots at sunrise,
Speaker 1: slow motion videos of runners high fiving, hash post from
Speaker 1: brunch tags. There she was my wife at the edge
Speaker 1: of a group shot, pulled in by the elbow, Bay Zane,
Speaker 1: the blonde guy from the street. Sometimes Clare and Ben
Speaker 1: were tagged. Other times it was a rotating cast, all smiles,
Speaker 1: all matching club shirts, nothing to see exactly, just people running,
Speaker 1: yet something underneath didn't fit. Pitches would go up with
Speaker 1: everyone at breakfast place, but Jamie wouldn't post until hours later,
Speaker 1: an image from some other location, seemingly alone. Maybe it
Speaker 1: was nothing. Maybe paranoia breeds where there's no turns backancy.
Speaker 1: The next Saturday post run, Jamie was quieter. She showered
Speaker 1: as soon as she got in, folding her running clothes
Speaker 1: with care and tucking them into a bag I hadn't
Speaker 1: seen before. A sleep black Duffel, the kind only fitness fanatic.
Speaker 1: Spy you off somewhere, I prompted. She paused, considered, Yeah,
Speaker 1: Klora invited me to try recovery smooth spot near the gym.
Speaker 1: You want to come. It caught me off guard her
Speaker 1: inviting me to something running club adjacent. I forced a
Speaker 1: polite maybe next time, and she flushed gratitude in her smile.
Speaker 1: Relieved after she left, I opened our joint iPad and
Speaker 1: searched a Saturday urban runners club. There was a closed
Speaker 1: PHASEB group links to local meat, to trailheads, and lots
Speaker 1: of babbel about paces and FOURM rollers. But none of
Speaker 1: the names Jamie dropped came up in any visible posts.
Speaker 1: Everything was protected photos, all filter forlecks, none of the
Speaker 1: mysterious friends directly tag. I started making list names, faces, details,
Speaker 1: trying to map the world Jamie now seemed to occupy.
Speaker 1: Clora sometimes with blonde calls. Was in a handful of
Speaker 1: club Instagram shots with Jamie, but Ben only showed up
Speaker 1: once or twice. I never in group Selfie's that matched
Speaker 1: Jamie's claim schedules. She said Ben drove her home last Saturday,
Speaker 1: but the map co ordinates for the club runs didn't
Speaker 1: match the cafe receipt from that same morning. I felt
Speaker 1: like a conspiracy theorist in my own kitchen, coming receipts,
Speaker 1: catching myself memorized tiny details. The deeper I looked, the
Speaker 1: less I understood. Then the plilis changed again. Our shared
Speaker 1: Spotify account, which had once reflected both artis plenty of
Speaker 1: course of her between Jane's Vintage Soul and my indeed
Speaker 1: deep cuts now trended sharply towards songs I didn't recognize.
Speaker 1: Jamie played the day and night, chilling on the couch
Speaker 1: with a book, folding laundry tapping were cut reminders on
Speaker 1: her calendar. I'd ask, who's this and she shrug Just
Speaker 1: something Chlora sent me makes running easier. One evening, as
Speaker 1: Jamie choped vegetables for dinner, a breast for details. Are
Speaker 1: you and Cora close? You mentioned her a lot lately,
Speaker 1: Jamie paused, blayed, hovering over a carrot. Yeah, we run
Speaker 1: together most weekend. She's the club's social share of kind
Speaker 1: of the glue. Why she seems nice? I said, careful,
Speaker 1: But you mentioned Ben drove you after the run last week?
Speaker 1: Was he upbrunched too? For a second, Jamie's face rich,
Speaker 1: almost imperceptibly, But there Ben comes sometimes. Carr is usually
Speaker 1: the one organizing. Though she chopped faster, a little too hard.
Speaker 1: I let it drop, heap prickling at the back of
Speaker 1: my neck. Every time I reached for an anchor, Jamie
Speaker 1: gave me a changing current. But then the following Friday,
Speaker 1: another puzzle piece slipped into my hand. Jamie was standing
Speaker 1: at the kitchen island, plugging in her new headphone, swaying
Speaker 1: to an unfamiliar outbeat tune, her phone buzzed to lock
Speaker 1: screen alert can't wait to see you if lash from
Speaker 1: a contact with no name, only a fire emoji. Jamie frowned,
Speaker 1: dismissed the alert, and, thinking I wasn't looking, turned her
Speaker 1: phone to airplane mode. I tried not to react, but
Speaker 1: as I cleared the table that night, her phone chopped
Speaker 1: again a notification from a concert ticketing app. I opened
Speaker 1: our banking app A recent charge for two tickets to
Speaker 1: a band I'd never mentioned, the same group from her
Speaker 1: running playlist? Was that for us? I asked, feigning casualness.
Speaker 1: Did you get concert ticket? She hesitated and then nodded, yeah.
Speaker 1: I mean the club is planning to go as a group.
Speaker 1: I thought you might want to come, but I figured no,
Speaker 1: since you don't really know the music, you could have
Speaker 1: just asked. She'll laughed, but her voice was thin. False
Speaker 1: Next time, promise, I texted Kay later, have you talked
Speaker 1: to Jamie much? She seems kind of different, right, Kay
Speaker 1: took a while to respond. I tried to meet her
Speaker 1: for coffee last week. She counseled said she was slammed
Speaker 1: with work. Is everything okay? I hovered over the reply box.
Speaker 1: Then tight, Yeah, just busy. I guess I wasn't convinced.
Speaker 1: Saturday crept up again, as inevitable as rainfall. Jamie left
Speaker 1: for her run with less ceremonied than you shall know
Speaker 1: playlists just to quick see you for brunch thrown over
Speaker 1: her shoulder. I said i'd meet her at Mariel's at noon,
Speaker 1: and she agreed, promising to text when she was heading back.
Speaker 1: Noon came and went Mariels. We filled our coffee cups twice.
Speaker 1: Kay shot me a sympathetic look. Janie finally arrived closer
Speaker 1: to one beautifully put together, hair damp but make up perfect.
Speaker 1: She's slipped him with a story about the run going
Speaker 1: along the group chatting about marathon meets her voice a
Speaker 1: little defensive. Sorry, lost track of time. The whole club
Speaker 1: wanted to compare stats. I couldn't wrangle them out. She
Speaker 1: checked her watch, apologized again, and offered to cover my meal,
Speaker 1: something she'd never done before. I reached for her hand
Speaker 1: under the table, but she pulled away to answer a message. Sorry,
Speaker 1: ye mind if I it's a work thing, she mumbled,
Speaker 1: Kay and Jordan exchanged a glance. I pretended not to
Speaker 1: see it, told myself I was inventing meaning where there
Speaker 1: was none. As people left, Jamie said ceated, scrolling through
Speaker 1: her phone. When we walked home, I asked, was the
Speaker 1: run really that rough? She nodded. Clora pushed us I'm wiped. Later,
Speaker 1: as she got ready for bed, I noticed she was
Speaker 1: wearing a new sleep shirt, another running brand, with a
Speaker 1: quote about pacing yourself to find freedom. I almost laughed
Speaker 1: at how out of place it looked on her, but
Speaker 1: the ode finished when I saw how carefully she folded
Speaker 1: her all teas into the back of her drawer. The
Speaker 1: next day, I caught her humming along turn another so
Speaker 1: on I didn't recognize as she prepped ods in the
Speaker 1: kitchen something about lost and Found in the middle of
Speaker 1: her run, her phone ping from the bathroom. I caught
Speaker 1: a glimpse of the screen ready coffee before same fire,
Speaker 1: I emoji. I put on my shoes on impulse and
Speaker 1: walked over to the local park, inventing an errand. There
Speaker 1: were small clusters of runners, but I didn't see Jamie
Speaker 1: or Zane. I loitered, feeling awkward, watched a few people
Speaker 1: check their watches, Chad amily. Finally I lit past the
Speaker 1: cafe near the river where Jamie said they'd be. The
Speaker 1: counter was empty except for two barristers and a couple
Speaker 1: couples on laptops, nobody from the club. It felt like
Speaker 1: walking through a theater after the play's over. Props left behind,
Speaker 1: but no actors. That evening, Jamie was distracted prepping gear
Speaker 1: for next weekend's big training session. She laid out socks,
Speaker 1: charged her headphones. I tried to make conversation, but everything
Speaker 1: thinned out quickly. Beneath her pleasantness, I felt the warning,
Speaker 1: the subtle don't ask, don't praw, don't notice too much.
Speaker 1: The next weekday, I called my own bluff. Over lunch,
Speaker 1: I told Jamie I missed us. I feel like I
Speaker 1: barely see you on weekends lately, I said, aiming for
Speaker 1: non accused her. Jamie paused mid toes as wide. YE
Speaker 1: think I'm avoiding you now. It's just the running group,
Speaker 1: all these new plans. I feel like an outside in
Speaker 1: my own house sometimes. She set her plate down gently.
Speaker 1: I'm sorry. I probably have been distant, but the brunches, Honestly,
Speaker 1: I felt out of place. Everyone's got something new going on,
Speaker 1: case planning her whiting, Jordan's moving up state. I just
Speaker 1: needed space. I wanted to believe her. She reached across
Speaker 1: the table squeezed my hand. I wanted to invite you
Speaker 1: to the next post run breakfast. If you're up for it,
Speaker 1: meet the group for real. I think you'll like them.
Speaker 1: We leef, mingled with shame. Maybe it was me, Maybe
Speaker 1: I've blown things up inside my own head. I kissed
Speaker 1: her hand, let her hug me tight, felt her heart
Speaker 1: beat so against my ribs. Saturday arrived, and for once,
Speaker 1: Jamie was excited to share her world with me. She
Speaker 1: coached me alma to wear, told me the group's pretty chill. Honestly,
Speaker 1: it's not like a sports team. I pictured a crowd
Speaker 1: of cheerful, nerdy runners and neon shorts and reflective sunglasses.
Speaker 1: When we reached the park, everyone greeted me warmly. Clara
Speaker 1: was outgoing and funny, joking about her clumsy runner's knees. Ben,
Speaker 1: that tall guy with a ginger beard, talked about his
Speaker 1: marathon prep and off dreads for a slower folks like
Speaker 1: me to join, saying the blonde beamed when Jamie introduced
Speaker 1: me clapping me on the back and offering advice on
Speaker 1: ankle stretches. I watched Jamie with new eyes, attentive to me,
Speaker 1: introducing me to every one, lingering by my side, laughter
Speaker 1: a little more brittle than usual. She was careful to
Speaker 1: include me as if determined to make sure I left
Speaker 1: with no doubts. The group headed for that vegan cafe
Speaker 1: after the run. There was avocado to's, beetlattes, endless talk
Speaker 1: about proutine, macho's. I did my best to fit in,
Speaker 1: and Jamie looked relieved, even held my hand under the table.
Speaker 1: No secret glances at any one, no hidden phone conversations.
Speaker 1: By mid afternoon, as we walked home, Jamie tapped herself
Speaker 1: under my arm, smiling. See not a secret club, just
Speaker 1: people running. I laughed, attention and winding a little. Maybe
Speaker 1: I'd misjudged her. Maybe new routines just make growing pains
Speaker 1: like every couple eventually faces. The next morning, as I
Speaker 1: was frying egs, Jamie patted into the kitchen and wrapped
Speaker 1: me up in a hug. I'm going to take to
Speaker 1: day easy, skip the run, call it a rest, eh,
Speaker 1: I grinned. Sounds good. Maybe later we can go to
Speaker 1: the book store. Yes, she agreed. I'd love that we
Speaker 1: settled into a comp Sunday reading, shearing snacks, even tackling
Speaker 1: the disaster z owned that was our closet together for
Speaker 1: the first time in weeks stage delt. I left the
Speaker 1: apartment early Monday, whispering a sleepy goodby as Jamie pulled
Speaker 1: the covers up and mumbled later, Babe. On the bus,
Speaker 1: I scrolled through my notifications. An alert from the find
Speaker 1: map off Ronds was still linked for emergencies paint. I
Speaker 1: glanced at the map out of idle habit There Jamie
Speaker 1: was downtown, not at the office, not on any plausible
Speaker 1: Wenning route, I seemed in her location was at an
Speaker 1: expense of hotel near the river, well outside the running
Speaker 1: club's usual haunts. Nowhere close to the gym or park,
Speaker 1: a place with the bar and views of the city.
Speaker 1: Not spot for a quick horst run coffee. My pulse
Speaker 1: studded in my ears. I checked the time. Had she
Speaker 1: told me she was working from home to day? God?
Speaker 1: Maybe she was doing a client meeting, Maybe she just
Speaker 1: needed a treat. Maybe I was spiraling. Maybe, but the
Speaker 1: map didn't change Jamie's location. Have it at the hotel
Speaker 1: for over an hour before vanishing. I didn't message her.
Speaker 1: I just sat perfectly still at my desk, staring at
Speaker 1: my phone, willing myself not to start searching for her.
Speaker 1: But I knew things wouldn't be the same again. I
Speaker 1: left my phone face down beside the track bed and
Speaker 1: told myself to focus on the logo project mock ups
Speaker 1: jew that day, the morning blurred tedium draft emails inbox pings,
Speaker 1: but one part of my brain stalked the hotel pin
Speaker 1: like a heat seeking missile. My curse. I hovered over
Speaker 1: giggle Maps twice cross referencing the place of the pearl,
Speaker 1: a beautique spot nestled between two old ware has converted galleries.
Speaker 1: Their website boasted rooftop cocktails and awareness floor with panoramic
Speaker 1: river views. In the past, Jamie and I would have
Speaker 1: laughed together at that kind of copy. Every hour or
Speaker 1: so I found a new, supposedly neutral reason to check
Speaker 1: the fine my app. The dot had moved back home
Speaker 1: by late morning, then a blippers Moody shop two blocks away.
Speaker 1: The perverse saw hoped that it had been nothing some
Speaker 1: air and a meeting with a client to bust in
Speaker 1: my chairs, but I couldn't entirely shake the earlier image.
Speaker 1: June rolled around, Jamie texted, feel like sushi for lunch.
Speaker 1: I stared at the message, the words casual and bright.
Speaker 1: My answering suer from where? But was even brisker? She
Speaker 1: breathed in at twelve thirty, slightly flushed, even though it
Speaker 1: was brisk outside. She was wearing the navy windbreaker, hood
Speaker 1: down hair pulled back by a new running club Brandit's grunchy.
Speaker 1: She set the takeout bags on the counter with a
Speaker 1: practiced one handed flip. Did you order in? I asked?
Speaker 1: She grinned, peeling off her jacket, just picked it up,
Speaker 1: craving bisucsetta mame spicy salmon, that sort of thing. She
Speaker 1: began prepping plates, sliding napkins and chopsticks into neat pears,
Speaker 1: the way she always did when she was in a
Speaker 1: good mood. Did you have a meeting this morning? Jamie
Speaker 1: looked up, slightly suspicious. No, just errands. Walked over to
Speaker 1: the water for some air. Oh, Cole, didn't know you
Speaker 1: were out. She shrugged easy, but something shrank in her eyes.
Speaker 1: You okay, you seem tents long? Habit pulled me back.
Speaker 1: I smiled, said I'd been hunched over work for too long.
Speaker 1: She bought it, drifting into small talk news from her boss,
Speaker 1: an upcoming campaigne some joke about the account manager's obsession
Speaker 1: with crossset as she registered my shop of the normal
Speaker 1: focus the way. I kept searching her hands and neck
Speaker 1: for any tell. She gave me no sign. She left
Speaker 1: that afternoon for a group video with the club, waving
Speaker 1: her phone by her ear as she disappeared into our bedroom.
Speaker 1: When I passed later, the door was half shut, her
Speaker 1: voice lifted in laughter at someone's joke. I heard a
Speaker 1: male voice in the background, not one I recognized, maybe Ben,
Speaker 1: maybe Zay. The sound rose, then fell, muffled by blankets
Speaker 1: For a while. I sat at the kitchen table and
Speaker 1: let the radio play, half listening as an old softgeant
Speaker 1: Stephen Strapport at one that used to haunt a house
Speaker 1: every fall. It was a world away from the restless
Speaker 1: energy that seemed to have infected our playlist. Now something
Speaker 1: A meet again. Late that night, when Jamie showered, I
Speaker 1: scrolled quietly through the clubs, tacked photos again, this time
Speaker 1: more methodically, recent images, all clustered around park brunches. A
Speaker 1: few candid shots in the gym basement. The crew posed
Speaker 1: sweat streaked under motivational banners. There was Jamie winking play
Speaker 1: shoulder bumping Zaye, fist bumping Chlora in another. No hint
Speaker 1: of scandal, nothing too personal, just healthy city people, glow
Speaker 1: y and communal. But some photos made me pause. At
Speaker 1: the last event, only six people were tagged, even though
Speaker 1: Jamie had described the group as at least twelve. Sane's
Speaker 1: captions were COI, full of runners and jokes, but a
Speaker 1: couple of group shots included Jamie at the edge, half
Speaker 1: turned away, hand cropped out of sight. Clicking through to
Speaker 1: Saine's profile was mostly useless. Most posts were stories of
Speaker 1: Vanish and his main feed was locked down by a
Speaker 1: private A new thought occurred to me. One is embossing,
Speaker 1: as it was urgent, Maybe it isn't cheating. Maybe Jamie's
Speaker 1: hiding something else in new friendship, a private drama, something
Speaker 1: she feels I judge or worry about. Maybe there's some
Speaker 1: club drama or hell an awkward secret about one of
Speaker 1: their friends. I rake my memory for any hints, any
Speaker 1: past transgressions, but the memory of the hotel bloke back
Speaker 1: into my mind, undeniable. I made a note to check
Speaker 1: the credit card statement as soon as it updated, Feeling
Speaker 1: slimy and desperate. Was this what people did before they
Speaker 1: had real proof? Wit ease actually the real signs? Or
Speaker 1: had I let one morning starts and chat as poison
Speaker 1: years of trust? Over the following week, my questions began
Speaker 1: to shape my days. It was easy, irrationalized, to look
Speaker 1: for patterns. Jamie's new routine had made her absence predictable.
Speaker 1: Every Saturday, she was gone for four hours, once or twice,
Speaker 1: she stayed up for lunch. Always she returned showered, sometimes
Speaker 1: with a new snack or specialty drink in hand. She
Speaker 1: chat about the group, but the stories got Vagor Ben
Speaker 1: and Clara were being goodballs, she'd say, or Zey made
Speaker 1: every one sprint at the end, brutle, she'd laugh. But
Speaker 1: never once did she offer up fresh anecdotes, something that
Speaker 1: in the past had been her life blood. The playlists, too,
Speaker 1: began to persist all week and night, long after Jamie
Speaker 1: had fallen asleep. Echoes of those bands, say gleaming tracks,
Speaker 1: bands what names like Peach Dust or Feral Forecaster would
Speaker 1: haunt my dreams. One evening I accidentally found her old
Speaker 1: favorite Sharon Vanette and Phoebe Bridges old becksheved at the
Speaker 1: bottom of our share cue neglected skipped over. Friday night,
Speaker 1: Jamie came home carrying a new water bottle, high tech
Speaker 1: Neon blue with the running club's logo. She changed immediately
Speaker 1: into workout leggings, even though she claimed she was treating
Speaker 1: tomorrow's reste. I caught her texting someone between brushing her
Speaker 1: teeth and folding tomorrow's gear. Who are you talking to,
Speaker 1: I asked, trying for gentleness. She hesitated, Clara, She's sending
Speaker 1: me the half marathon training plan. I can forward it
Speaker 1: if you want. I nodded, feeling a flush of guilt
Speaker 1: for probing. Sure, if you want. She crossed the room
Speaker 1: and hugged me tightly, or breath warm on my neck.
Speaker 1: I stood stiff, then made myself a lax. If the
Speaker 1: doubts were all in my head, I arte her the benefit.
Speaker 1: Saturday dawned, pale and cold. Jamie fidgeted through breakfast, checked
Speaker 1: her phone obsessively, then slipped out before I could finish
Speaker 1: my coffee. The echo of the door shutting hit me
Speaker 1: sharper than it should have. Left alone. I tidied the
Speaker 1: apartment wipe, kitchen counters started, laundry inted the trash, anything
Speaker 1: to pass the time until I could justify checking Jamie's
Speaker 1: location again. I ten thirty Jamie texted, were at Java.
Speaker 1: Press might run longer than usual, but will bring you
Speaker 1: a cossa. She added a photo, a group selfie. Jamie
Speaker 1: at the edge plurred and win chapped Saine's arm around
Speaker 1: the frame's margin. They looked higher but happy enough. I
Speaker 1: tried to let it comfort me. At noon, there was
Speaker 1: no Jamie. By twelve forty, a text, still chatting, almost done.
Speaker 1: You ok for lunch without me? I hesitated, then wrote back,
Speaker 1: of course, miss you, a heart emoji that felt painfully fake.
Speaker 1: I went for a walk, pushing my hands in my pockets,
Speaker 1: eyes on the sidewalk, circling our block until sun slanted
Speaker 1: hard and cold a cross pavement. When I got home,
Speaker 1: the apartment was still empty. I drank a little too
Speaker 1: much coffee, washed out the mog. Opened the computer, I
Speaker 1: promised myself. I checked the statement once and only once.
Speaker 1: The chase logging greeted me with the bland blue welcome.
Speaker 1: I scored recent transactions. Two lines down was a charge
Speaker 1: from the prel the hotel time Stunt nine forty two,
Speaker 1: a m Broom's service. Another from the same day, Cafe Boreal,
Speaker 1: mid morning, miles from the Running Rats. The stomach flip
Speaker 1: was so strong I pressed a palm to the table.
Speaker 1: This was more than a one off. For several long minutes,
Speaker 1: I sat staring at the screen, trying to make sense
Speaker 1: of the overlap. It would be easy to call it nothing.
Speaker 1: Ama charged cord some stupid mistake that the names and
Speaker 1: times lined up with Jamie's claims, Run Run brunch. Jamie
Speaker 1: burst in cheeks, flushed, beaming, She tossed a paper bag
Speaker 1: on the table, coassa as promised. Sorry, ran so long
Speaker 1: the rain caught us. God, I need a nap, she said,
Speaker 1: flopping onto the couch. Before I could even nod, I
Speaker 1: watched her fold her legs under herself, scroll through her phone,
Speaker 1: reply to a message with what sounded like a low,
Speaker 1: happy hum, a private joke, perhaps. Then she caught me watching,
Speaker 1: smiled guiltily, and reached over come sit with me. I did,
Speaker 1: trying to absolve her warmth to convince myself Paraina couldn't
Speaker 1: coexist with this messy hair salt on her skin, laughed
Speaker 1: a soft against my cheek. I tried to surrender, but
Speaker 1: suspicion rustled beneath every careless phrase. Over dinner, I offered
Speaker 1: to cook. Jamie nodded, grateful, and disappeared into the shower.
Speaker 1: When she emerged, she changed into old pajamas, a bad
Speaker 1: a gray shirt she'd stop wearing weeks ago. I miss this,
Speaker 1: she said, quietly, setting the table while I dice peppers.
Speaker 1: Being home just as the performer and made me ache.
Speaker 1: I couldn't tell if she was trying to apologize or
Speaker 1: just distract. That night, when Jamie fell asleep, I sat
Speaker 1: on the edge of the bed, scrolling the club's instagram
Speaker 1: on my phone, news stories the group jogging shots of
Speaker 1: sweat damp sneakers at the cafe. Jamie tacked at once.
Speaker 1: Saine's story Flush briefly a ten second video in which
Speaker 1: Jamie here down grinned as she stirred coffee in a
Speaker 1: lunch that looks a specially dim expensive. The stylized mural
Speaker 1: in the background matched the lobby art had glimpsed on
Speaker 1: the Pearl's website. My heart pounded cold and sure. At
Speaker 1: two in the morning, I found myself cross referencing every
Speaker 1: name Jamie had ever mentioned. I searched through their friends
Speaker 1: of friends liss, trailing back through months of content. Saints
Speaker 1: married apparently, but his spouse rarely appears. The club's comments
Speaker 1: section was a tangle of inside jokes and hasticks. I
Speaker 1: scrolled Throughuscine's tout photos. On several Saturday mornings, Jamie turned
Speaker 1: up in group shots, position clothes sometimes caught in those
Speaker 1: in between glances, laughter, paused, eyes on his I cross
Speaker 1: checked the time stamps with our credit card receipts. The
Speaker 1: patten emerged. Hotel charges on mornings Jamie claimed to be
Speaker 1: running payments out of the way brunch bots, charges for
Speaker 1: ebers from addresses I didn't recognize, little overlapping circles, overlapping,
Speaker 1: never quite touching, mapping a secret geography had never been
Speaker 1: invited to see. Someday, I woke early and wandered through
Speaker 1: the apartment, feeling exposed the old routines I used to
Speaker 1: save her, flipping pancakes, mapping out our week to give
Speaker 1: the felt stage brittle. When Jamie on in emerged and
Speaker 1: poured herself a protein shake, tossing me a sleepy smile,
Speaker 1: I saw not my partner but a stranger, Carefully playing
Speaker 1: her part, I texted, Kay, can we meet up? Just
Speaker 1: you and me? The reply came quickly, concerned, Yes, tell
Speaker 1: me when, tell me where? Mid afternoon at our corner cafe.
Speaker 1: Kay folded her hand around her tee as sharp and gentle,
Speaker 1: so she said, you look like hel what's up? I hesitated,
Speaker 1: embarrassment fighting with desperation. Have you noticed Jamie's I don't know,
Speaker 1: disappearing changing. Kay didn't answer immediately. She's definitely I don't
Speaker 1: know of Cansel's plans. Verily text back then. I saw
Speaker 1: her in cell story. She's always at these places. I've
Speaker 1: literally never even heard her mention you follow Zane, I blurted,
Speaker 1: realizing how weird the sounded as soon as I said it. Yeah,
Speaker 1: Kay nodded, guarded. He tagged her at some place called
Speaker 1: the Pearl last weekend. She peered at me, sympathy breaking through,
Speaker 1: Alex or you is something going on with them? I
Speaker 1: looked at my hands, shoulders collapsing. I think so. I mean,
Speaker 1: I think she's cheating or lying anyway, I don't know
Speaker 1: how far it goes. There are receipts, weird charges, her location,
Speaker 1: stuff that doesn't make sense. She says she's with the club,
Speaker 1: but she's not. She's somewhere with him. I think Kay
Speaker 1: reached a cross squeezed my wrist. I'm really sorry. That sucks.
Speaker 1: Maybe there's an explanation, though she tried but didn't sound convinced.
Speaker 1: I shook my head. I tried to God, I tried.
Speaker 1: It's all like choreography. When I think I'm crazy, there's
Speaker 1: something small, a lock screen text, or she says Ben
Speaker 1: was there, but it's Clara in the group shot. I
Speaker 1: feel like I'm I stop spiraling, babbling, clinging to hope
Speaker 1: I get it. Kay said gently, if you need help,
Speaker 1: if you want me to, I don't know, talk to her,
Speaker 1: or just to strike you un here, no of I said,
Speaker 1: not yet, I have to no more or something. We
Speaker 1: sat in gentle silence, kpe patting my hand until the
Speaker 1: tea went cold. When I got home, Jamie was out.
Speaker 1: I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at
Speaker 1: her runnish shoes, the glossy new ones beside the bairey
Speaker 1: used old pair. My eyes scanned her side of the closet,
Speaker 1: tracks of new athletic gear, tops and collars. I'd never
Speaker 1: seen her wear receipts still stuffed in the pockets. I
Speaker 1: rifled for the jin Duffels she favored now, handshaking slightly
Speaker 1: at the bottom. An old hotel room keikot. The logo
Speaker 1: was unmistakable, the same stylized peep with trembling fingers. I
Speaker 1: tucked it back in. Something switched inside me. A strange
Speaker 1: hollow piece settled onto my chest. I couldn't tell if
Speaker 1: it was resignation or rage. Jamie got back close to it,
Speaker 1: apologizing for the late hour. Surrey ran long again. The
Speaker 1: club's prepping for the big run next month. I lost
Speaker 1: track of time. I nodded, horror, hammering, did you see Zane?
Speaker 1: She smiled almost ups in mind you. Oh, he's always there,
Speaker 1: leading the warm ups. He's like the running club mascot.
Speaker 1: I said nothing. She padded past me and ground her tablet.
Speaker 1: I spent the next day quietly, fairly responding as Jamie
Speaker 1: went through her routine. In the evening, when she left
Speaker 1: for a late stretch class, I fired up the bank
Speaker 1: account again and printed out the last month's expenses, mapping
Speaker 1: times and locations. Nearly every Saturday, at an anomaly, either
Speaker 1: a charge for two or a payment at a fancy cafe,
Speaker 1: touched blocks from the pearl, or you were charges that
Speaker 1: six it in strange triangles. I let myself click further
Speaker 1: searching blocked numbers in Jamie's call lock on off, pham
Speaker 1: bill one came up too often. Not Clara, not Ben.
Speaker 1: I googled the airy code A tracked back to her name,
Speaker 1: Saane Holloway. I stared at the listing, lost in enormalcy
Speaker 1: of it. Just a person, no grand story, but suddenly
Speaker 1: terrible and raw in its ordinariness. I followed the link
Speaker 1: to every public photo, saying and Jamie a club events.
Speaker 1: The more I looked, the more gaps appeared. Windows were
Speaker 1: both finished from the group fee photos. Work club members commented,
Speaker 1: would you two disappeared? To the evidence didn't feel like evidence,
Speaker 1: It felt like sun slipping between my fingers. On impulse,
Speaker 1: I d m the running club's public profile, using an
Speaker 1: account that would blend in hey as the Saturday run
Speaker 1: so at the park or as the route change. That
Speaker 1: came an automatic reply, Hey, we meet at the park
Speaker 1: every Saturday at seven on for now unless posted otherwise.
Speaker 1: Check our fIF for updates. The next set of photos
Speaker 1: on the fee times down at the start at seven,
Speaker 1: everyone posed together. Jamie, however, posted a solo coffee at
Speaker 1: the Pearl's Cafe at ten on that same day, captioned
Speaker 1: refueling no one tagged, no reference. I didn't eat dinner
Speaker 1: that night. I waited on the couch, turning over a
Speaker 1: print out of hotel charges, feeling a curious numbness, as
Speaker 1: if my nerves had crested and left me stranded. Jamie
Speaker 1: returned late, jim bags slung over her shoulder, close, smelling
Speaker 1: faintly of expensive floral serup, not sweat. Hey, you're up,
Speaker 1: she said, sliding out of her sneakers. I nodded, unable
Speaker 1: to fix my gaze on her face. She stopped in
Speaker 1: the hall, studying me. Everything okay, Alex. The question sat
Speaker 1: between us, i'n welcome and overbray. I had the urge
Speaker 1: to laugh, to break something, to cry, but mostly I
Speaker 1: just felt tired. Do you want tea? I asked instead.
Speaker 1: She smiled a little, clearly relieved I wasn't pushing Sure
Speaker 1: with lemon, if you don't mind. While the cattle boiled,
Speaker 1: she ducked into the bathroom, humming along with another unfamiliar song.
Speaker 1: The false normalcy of it all pressed hard against my throat.
Speaker 1: We drank in silence. Only the ticking of the kitchen
Speaker 1: clock commuted city noise below us for company Jamie's phone shirt.
Speaker 1: Once she put her face down. Here was my whole
Speaker 1: life in one dimly lit room, A marriage curving, fraying
Speaker 1: under the weight of things unspoken, and me hollowed up
Speaker 1: with knowing. The next day I called and sick from work,
Speaker 1: claiming a stomach bug. I spent the morning cross referencing
Speaker 1: bank statements. I charged the previous Wednesday and dinner reservation
Speaker 1: for two well past the how. Jamie said she was
Speaker 1: working late for a campaign pitch another at the Niche
Speaker 1: concert club, same band she played in our living room,
Speaker 1: tickets for two. Late that afternoon, I called the hotel
Speaker 1: Palms clare me, Hi, I think I left my sunglasses
Speaker 1: on Saturday morning room under Jimmie Callahan or maybe's ain
Speaker 1: hollow way. I know it's a weird question. There was
Speaker 1: a polite pause, just a moment. Let me check. Oh, yes,
Speaker 1: Am asked Calahuanchet out of six hundred forteen or ten
Speaker 1: thirty A M no sunglasses in the log I'm afraid.
Speaker 1: I hung up park clanging her real name the room together.
Speaker 1: That evening, Jamie burst in, flushed face, clutching a new
Speaker 1: smooty from Faboreel. You should try this, cloroswers by it,
Speaker 1: mango ginger protein powder. I took the proffered cup so
Speaker 1: to taste to nothing. Not for the first time, I
Speaker 1: wondered if Clara even existed as Jamie described her. We
Speaker 1: sat together, Jamie chattering about the half marathon training, asking
Speaker 1: about my latest logo drafts, commenting on the neighbor's new puppy.
Speaker 1: I watched her searching for the missing woman, the one
Speaker 1: who used to fill up a room with warmth and
Speaker 1: shared silliness, who would in spool her day beside mine
Speaker 1: until we were perfectly gently tangled. I forced a smile,
Speaker 1: even as my insides churned. When I lay down next
Speaker 1: to her that night, her back pressed sleepily to mine.
Speaker 1: I found myself mapping in the darkness, every deception, every
Speaker 1: strange new silence, and wondered, almost absently, how much I
Speaker 1: would let myself see Amy's breathing as slow and even
Speaker 1: beside me, her arm drape across my waist, as if
Speaker 1: the pose itself is proof of contentment. I stare into
Speaker 1: the dark hardly daring to shift in case I wake her,
Speaker 1: feeling the scratch of the sheet against my knees and
Speaker 1: the relentless sticking of the cheap clock on the dresser.
Speaker 1: Every so often, her fingers twitched her. She sighs, mumbling
Speaker 1: something against my back. Pure intimacy, the shape of old safety.
Speaker 1: But everything around me is sharp with detail, too real,
Speaker 1: the same way a place feels after a disaster, when
Speaker 1: nothing will ever be innocent again. At six forty five,
Speaker 1: I slip out of bed with care. Jamie doesn't stir.
Speaker 1: I pad silently into the bathroom, splashing water on my face,
Speaker 1: staring at my reflection sleep berer's eyes, shirt twisted, hair
Speaker 1: sticking up absurdly in the mirror. I'm out the word why, once, silently,
Speaker 1: feeling foolish for how the question already seems so impossible
Speaker 1: and so simple. In the kitchen, the sunlight slants across
Speaker 1: the floor, bows and catches on the blue running bottle
Speaker 1: she left there last night, beads of condensation clinging to
Speaker 1: the plastic as if it had sweaded through the night.
Speaker 1: I go out, my phone, hands trembling. Only when I
Speaker 1: sculled to the hotel, charge again on the table yesterday,
Speaker 1: his bank statements sick crumple, proof of my new reality.
Speaker 1: The knot in my stomach tightens every second, heavy with dread,
Speaker 1: I move almost mechanically, boiling water, scooping coffee, pouring just
Speaker 1: enough in the French press for one. A few minutes later,
Speaker 1: Jemmy shuffles in hair while blue shirt drooping over one's shoulder.
Speaker 1: You're up early, she says, rubbing her eyes. She's gentle, affectionate,
Speaker 1: the person I married somehow return to me after vanishing
Speaker 1: for weeks. Couldn't sleep, I reply, keeping my face neutral.
Speaker 1: I pour her a mug, set it down by her elbow.
Speaker 1: She takes it, SIPs, then glances at her phone, thumb
Speaker 1: already moving to silence the morning's first alert. We moved
Speaker 1: through breakfast, almost as if none of this has happened.
Speaker 1: To her bowl of oatmeal, My toes a hum of
Speaker 1: the radiator. Every so often I catch her watching me,
Speaker 1: curious but not suspicious. She leans over to plant a
Speaker 1: peck on my cheek. You okay today, she asks, eyes
Speaker 1: luminous in the half light. I nod, swallowing, just tired,
Speaker 1: I say, let's keep to day Low's dress. She grins,
Speaker 1: ruffles my hair, tells me she loves me. I managed
Speaker 1: to croaker, I love you, holding that moment in my
Speaker 1: hands like something cracked and fragile. The normalcy if it
Speaker 1: feels cruel, How easy she finds the lines, how natural
Speaker 1: the new rhythms. After breakfast, Jamie drapes herself across the couch,
Speaker 1: scrolling her phone, eyes flitting over some endless stream of notifications.
Speaker 1: I returned to the kitchen and for the first time
Speaker 1: realize that their feels different, heavier, expectant, my hard hammers,
Speaker 1: my hands fluttering to settle somewhere anywhere, on the countertop,
Speaker 1: on a half folded kitchen towel, on the bank, statement
Speaker 1: shoved beneath the cookbook. It's as if the apartment is
Speaker 1: waiting for something to snap. I step into the hallway,
Speaker 1: fum pressed in my chest and scroll through my gallery.
Speaker 1: Every clue, every receipt, every mapping of time, and placed together,
Speaker 1: they paint a story that my brain still rebels against.
Speaker 1: I glance down the hall where Jamie is humming along
Speaker 1: to us on I can't quite identify, and wonder how
Speaker 1: long I can stand in this limbo, half inside the collapse,
Speaker 1: half still grasping for normal. The first roger comes just
Speaker 1: before noon. Jamie calls out, want lunch? I can make weight?
Speaker 1: Do you we still half hummers, innocuous words, friendly domesticity.
Speaker 1: I just shake my head, unable to that the world
Speaker 1: will stay silly if I speak. She approaches, concerned, deepening
Speaker 1: on her features. You're really quiet? Did something happen at work?
Speaker 1: Her handhovers awkwardly over my shoulder. I shrug her off
Speaker 1: gently than I feel. Can we just have a normal day?
Speaker 1: I tempt the smile that doesn't quite land. Jamie arrows
Speaker 1: her eyes, reading something in my face, something she can't decode. Alex,
Speaker 1: is this about me skipping brunch again this week? I
Speaker 1: told you it was just training. There's a big event
Speaker 1: coming up. I cut her off with a small, tired sound.
Speaker 1: It's fine, just let's not okay. She holds for a
Speaker 1: beat longer, then sighs, defeated, and moves back into the
Speaker 1: sun stripe on the couch. The day stretches lastic, every minute,
Speaker 1: a kind of silent negotiation, My effort to pretend, her
Speaker 1: effort not to notice. By mid afternoon, Katex's thinking of
Speaker 1: you here, If you need to talk or just leave
Speaker 1: the house for a bit. The words make my throat tighten.
Speaker 1: I have no idea what or I have to reply.
Speaker 1: A little later, Jamie changes into her running gear, lays
Speaker 1: his tug tight with practiced confidence. I am meeting the
Speaker 1: club at the park. Just a light run, want to,
Speaker 1: she asks, almost hopeful. I almost say yes, since an
Speaker 1: ill lifeline, a way to delay the unknown. Instead I
Speaker 1: shake my head, pleading work Maybe next time, she says,
Speaker 1: but her tone is clipped, some edge of annoyance or
Speaker 1: disappointment beneath the practiced ease. She scoops up her head, funds,
Speaker 1: grabs her keys, and pauses by the door. Ye sure,
Speaker 1: you're okay? She tries again, and for a moment, un
Speaker 1: stabbed by the desire to say everything, to ask, to
Speaker 1: beg for the truth. But the words don't come. After
Speaker 1: the door snaps shut behind her, I sag against the frame,
Speaker 1: electricity fizzing under my skin. I sit down and draw
Speaker 1: the statements, not sure if the ritual is for proof
Speaker 1: or for punishment. Jamie's famed times from the kitchen for
Speaker 1: a split second, guilt and necessity wrestle. She still hasn't
Speaker 1: set a new pass code. I hesitate, then open it.
Speaker 1: Theun trembling in the group chat Saye's name pops up
Speaker 1: with a string of fire emojis along with a message
Speaker 1: usual spot can't we There is no mention of chlora
Speaker 1: or ben only zane. A string of d m's half crop,
Speaker 1: photos of drinks, fragments of inside jokes about rooftop pews
Speaker 1: and breaking peace yaws, A pick of Jamie hair must
Speaker 1: in the lobby bar at the pearl tears prit my
Speaker 1: eyes hot and humiliating. I scroll, hot, pounding, reading, replies
Speaker 1: that a familiar in form an alien in context to
Speaker 1: language for two a rhythm they built in a space
Speaker 1: where I do not exist. I close the phone, breeding shallow,
Speaker 1: dizzy for a moment, I want to scream, to smash something,
Speaker 1: to wake from a bad dream. Instead, I set the
Speaker 1: phone gently back on the counter. My hands are shaking.
Speaker 1: The air in the apartment buzzes with possibility and ruin.
Speaker 1: By the time Jamie returns, dusk is folding itself around
Speaker 1: the room. She's a little breathless, cheats pink. The sleeves
Speaker 1: of her windbreaker damp at the wrists. She flashes me
Speaker 1: a smile, strips off her jacket stretches a cause theatrically
Speaker 1: god cold out but feels amazing after she calls, pulling
Speaker 1: her hair out of its clip. He would have hated it.
Speaker 1: I nod voice. Then did the whole club go? She
Speaker 1: slings her bag on to the table with a hollow thud.
Speaker 1: YEA well, Clara sat this one out, busy with work,
Speaker 1: but Ben made it, saying lad to warm up as
Speaker 1: usual for a beat. I knew only challenge her. Have
Speaker 1: I know Clara wasn't there. I know Zanes warm up
Speaker 1: means something different, put in said a just stark. Clearing dishes,
Speaker 1: Jamie follows me into the kitchen, eyes wide with concern. Seriously,
Speaker 1: what's wrong? Your acting like someone died. I squeezed the
Speaker 1: edge of the calendar, counting the pulse in my neck. Nothing,
Speaker 1: nothing's wrong. She frowns, frustration, finally breaking through. Alex, I
Speaker 1: know you to say what's on your mind? Please? I can't.
Speaker 1: I can't keep guessing. That night, we moved through the
Speaker 1: motions of domesticity, her folding laundry, me making tea both
Speaker 1: of a circling and unspoken disaster. I watch her moving
Speaker 1: through the apartment, seeing how easily she fits into this
Speaker 1: life we built, how completely she is somewhere else at
Speaker 1: the same time. Later, lying in bed, I know sleep
Speaker 1: will not come. I stare at the ceiling, thinking of
Speaker 1: the years we spent together, of all the ordinary days,
Speaker 1: the small kindnesses, the easy laughter that used to fill
Speaker 1: these rooms. Now everything is tensioned, the soft clink of glasses,
Speaker 1: the double checking of plants, the ways we hedge every word.
Speaker 1: Jamie is asleep beside me, breathing deep, but I know
Speaker 1: the boundaries between us have shifted for good. The next morning, Sunday,
Speaker 1: the weather turns mean. Rain lashes at the windows, turning
Speaker 1: the apartment gray and remo. I pull on a sweater,
Speaker 1: chalk on a cold cup of coffee, and stare at
Speaker 1: the bank statement again. My resolve hardens, not from anger,
Speaker 1: not even from betrayal, but from a need for oxygen
Speaker 1: to finally let the truth take up the air that
Speaker 1: suspicion had poisoned. Jamie is slow to rise, cocoon and blankets,
Speaker 1: mumbling about taking a rain check on running. I knon.
Speaker 1: She has a bowl of oatmeal, balance on her knees,
Speaker 1: scoling absently through her phone. I steel myself, tying slattisious. Honey.
Speaker 1: Four o'clock arrives, and with it a new message, saying
Speaker 1: again a link to a playlist for rainy days, a
Speaker 1: the same songs that have crept into our house. There's
Speaker 1: no subtext, but it doesn't matter. The intent. The intimacy
Speaker 1: is written in everything that's been omitted. My fear is
Speaker 1: a living thing in the space between us. We eat
Speaker 1: dinner in silence, her poking at kle miswallowing muffles that
Speaker 1: taste like nothing. Jamie glances up and asks, are you
Speaker 1: seeing Kay this week? I shake my head, probably not.
Speaker 1: She corks an eyebrow, suspicion now entering her gaze, but
Speaker 1: does prass. I wonder if she senses her world closing
Speaker 1: in NiFe falls. I wash dishes, scrubbed the pan so hard,
Speaker 1: my knuckles staying, trying to occupy my hands so I
Speaker 1: won't do something reckless. At nine, Jamie flicks off the
Speaker 1: lights in the living room and follows me into the bedroom.
Speaker 1: We settle together, a hand finding my waist. I can't
Speaker 1: remember the last time we touched, and it didn't feel
Speaker 1: like the other. She falls asleep quickly. I don't mon day,
Speaker 1: I don't bother pretending to work. Instead, I gather every
Speaker 1: bit of evident screenshots, reseats, Instagram tags, clocks, chouges, laying
Speaker 1: them out on the kitchen table like some doom timeline.
Speaker 1: I text, Kay, I need to talk. I think I
Speaker 1: have to confront her to day here, replies in seconds.
Speaker 1: Do you want me there? I say no. Part of
Speaker 1: me wants to preserve whatever dignity is left. At five,
Speaker 1: Jamie walks in, shaking rain off her jacket, humming a
Speaker 1: tune that is all ache and light. She's reedyant cheeks,
Speaker 1: pink thighs, a light with the memory of some joke
Speaker 1: she will never tell me. I steal myself. It's time.
Speaker 1: I wait until we both sat at the table, her
Speaker 1: eating an apple, mis stare at my hands. The silence
Speaker 1: stretches hurricane tight. Jamie looks up, sensing the wrongness, Alexa,
Speaker 1: I force my voice Eddy, who is Then a split
Speaker 1: seconds pause, her features d you and almost imperceptible twist, startle,
Speaker 1: then neutral. He's the club coordinator. I've introduced you, remember,
Speaker 1: I nod? Why were you at the Pearl with him
Speaker 1: on Monday? Dead silence. Jamie's mouth opens, then shuts Yet
Speaker 1: what I wasn't wait. What a week? Laugh too thin?
Speaker 1: I shake my head, sliding the print out across the table,
Speaker 1: hotel charge time stamped foam. Look, don't I've seen the receipts, Jamie.
Speaker 1: I called the hotel, saying, checked up with you, room
Speaker 1: six fourteen. For a moment, I see her searching for
Speaker 1: an exit at denial and excuse the joke. Instead, she
Speaker 1: puts her head in her hands, fingers calling at a scalp,
Speaker 1: silent for a long time, then quietly, I'm sorry. Her
Speaker 1: voice is a whisper. All the bravado gone. I didn't
Speaker 1: want I didn't mean for this to buy. She trails off,
Speaker 1: breathing hard. I fold my hands in my lap, trying
Speaker 1: to keep them from shaking. Was it just monday? She
Speaker 1: shakes her head once, sharp, definitive. No, it's been a while,
Speaker 1: a couple months. I don't even know how to explain it.
Speaker 1: It started with running, just talking, just advice, and then
Speaker 1: suddenly things felt different and I was scared and stupid,
Speaker 1: and I didn't stop it. I didn't want to hurt you,
Speaker 1: and yet here we are, I say, force flat. She's
Speaker 1: crying now, deep shuddering. I never meant for it to happen.
Speaker 1: I swear to God, Alex. I was unhappy, but not
Speaker 1: because of you. Work sucked. I felt old and invisible.
Speaker 1: He noticed me. He made me feel new, like there
Speaker 1: was this part of me that wasn't just routine and partnership.
Speaker 1: And I know how selfish it sounds. I hate myself
Speaker 1: for it. I stare at the grain of the table,
Speaker 1: all scratches from dinners past. Why did you keep coming
Speaker 1: home to me? Then? Why did you make me feel crazy?
Speaker 1: Like I was imagining things? Jamie shakes her head, two
Speaker 1: tracks glistening on her cheeks. Because I was afraid of
Speaker 1: losing you. I didn't know how to stop. I changed everything, music,
Speaker 1: frud although with stupid routines, because I was terrified you'd
Speaker 1: see right for me otherwise, because every time I came home,
Speaker 1: I realized what I stood to lose. But by then
Speaker 1: it was already too late. I'd already lied. I breathe
Speaker 1: in shop, my composure splintering. Did you ever think about
Speaker 1: telling me the truth? She nods, broken every day. I
Speaker 1: almost did a dozen times, but then you'd be yourself kind, familiar,
Speaker 1: and I panic. I stand up suddenly, fitzcurled. You should go, Jamie,
Speaker 1: stay with a friend. We need time space. This this
Speaker 1: can't be undone. She nods mutely, Rising to gather her things.
Speaker 1: She heads to the bedroom, returning moments later with a
Speaker 1: duffle work clothes bundled awkwardly under her arm. Silent tears
Speaker 1: run down her face. At the door, she pauses, looks
Speaker 1: over her shoulder, lits parted, as if to say something important. Instead,
Speaker 1: she shakes her head wordless and slips how into the night,
Speaker 1: closing the door softly behind her. The apartment contracts around me.
Speaker 1: My breath feels brutal in the stillness. Ten minutes later,
Speaker 1: I opened my computer and draft ashort apologetic email to
Speaker 1: Jamie's parents, an excuse about last minute work counseling, Neil
Speaker 1: coming visit, I meet the group, chat with our friends.
Speaker 1: When Kate texts or you'll write, I reply simply, there's
Speaker 1: been a separation. I'll coholl soon. I block out the rest,
Speaker 1: every noticification, another twist in the wound. Jamie's closet is
Speaker 1: half empty now, no work blouses, no gim duffel, just
Speaker 1: a clutch of miss mamush Tanger's and the old shirts
Speaker 1: pushed to the side. I put her house keys in
Speaker 1: the dish by the door, wipe my eyes with my sleeve,
Speaker 1: and sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling
Speaker 1: the rift settle into every corner of the apartment. Within
Speaker 1: the next hour, I counsel our trip to Portland to
Speaker 1: lead our dinner reservation, change the passwords unshared counts. The
Speaker 1: therapist's email lingers in my in box, unanswered for an hour.
Speaker 1: There is so much silence, my ears ring with it.
Speaker 1: The sun rises the next morning, and the apartment is
Speaker 1: still hushed. The exits low in my chest, but there's
Speaker 1: a new brazen clarity and air, painful but crisp, like
Speaker 1: air after rain. As I walk through the hallway, I
Speaker 1: spot them Jamie's over running shoes, the first pair hardly used,
Speaker 1: topped behind the laundry basket, soul's barely worn. I pick
Speaker 1: them up, weighing the ghost of her effort in my hands,
Speaker 1: feeling the heft of everything that's changed. I carry it
Speaker 1: the shoes into Jamie's side of the closet. I set
Speaker 1: them down, quietly, arranging them with keb beside the hangers
Speaker 1: she left behind. My hands linger on the laces, unraveled
Speaker 1: slack and then I step back, lighting the hush of
Speaker 1: the room settle over me, steady in plain. A slow
Speaker 1: light seeps through the window, catch in the curve of
Speaker 1: the shoes, the rumple of blankets, the dim blue dish
Speaker 1: where Jamie's keys weight and touched. For a long moment,
Speaker 1: I simply stand there, breathing in the clear and varnished quiet,
Speaker 1: eyes fixed on the small, ordinary space that held so
Speaker 1: much hope and now honesty. I feel the weight and
Speaker 1: the release, the sharp big that means my life will
Speaker 1: be something else from here on, And with nothing left
Speaker 1: to high, I let myself simply be. I turn away
Speaker 1: from the closet, the hush amplifying the small sounds of
Speaker 1: the apartment, the pop of her radiator at the traffic
Speaker 1: far below. Every object in here is charged. Now Jamie
Speaker 1: is sullim up with the chip handle, the slightly warp
Speaker 1: wooden spoon we always argued over using the old poloid
Speaker 1: on the fridge of us at last year's block party.
Speaker 1: I gather up her hoodies draped on the couch, fall
Speaker 1: them without thinking, as if keeping the small order will
Speaker 1: stop me from unraveling. I'm not sure how long they
Speaker 1: stand in the living room arms crosts, listening. Each checkond
Speaker 1: that passes pushes me farther away from the life I
Speaker 1: thought I had. I check my phone messages, blinking quietly,
Speaker 1: but ignore them. K a couple of work reminders, even
Speaker 1: a promotional email about the half marathon registration Jamie was
Speaker 1: supposed to sign up for. It occurs to me, dully,
Speaker 1: the plans are still moving forward. Somewhere, the people are
Speaker 1: jogging impairs through the city, as if no one has
Speaker 1: exploded their life in the middle of a quiet apartment. Eventually,
Speaker 1: my numbs is interrupted by a knock at the door,
Speaker 1: too soft to be any one bouquet. I hesitate. Part
Speaker 1: of me wants to freeze her out, to keep the
Speaker 1: silence unbroken, but eventually I open the door. She steps in, careful,
Speaker 1: a little tentative, her eyes lined immediately on my face,
Speaker 1: then flick to the missing half of the coat rack.
Speaker 1: I brought muffins, she says, finally, as if sugar could
Speaker 1: patch was torn. I let her in, Too tired to protest,
Speaker 1: She doesn't pry, just moves to the kitchen and busies herself,
Speaker 1: granting us both in routine. I sit at the counter,
Speaker 1: letting her talk about nothing traffic. The new pop up
Speaker 1: books are on six. A friend's engagement. I realize I'm
Speaker 1: grateful not for distraction, but for the normalcy one K
Speaker 1: finally finishes fussing. Sh pauses across from me, both hands
Speaker 1: flat on the counter. If you want ten minutes where
Speaker 1: you don't have to talk, that's okay, she says, Or
Speaker 1: if you want to, I'll listen, but you don't have
Speaker 1: to perform this. She gestures a quite sweep of her
Speaker 1: fingers that takes in my stiff shoulders, my hollow voice.
Speaker 1: It takes me a while, but eventually I nod. I
Speaker 1: catch her up in a few sentences. How long it took,
Speaker 1: how I found out, how I may Jamie go Kay's
Speaker 1: eyes and squeezes my hand, her grip warm solid. I'm sorry,
Speaker 1: she offers, and for the first time in days, I
Speaker 1: let myself feel that it's true. The evening slides by,
Speaker 1: and slowly Kay draws laughter out of me, brief startled.
Speaker 1: We commiserate, not just about Jamie, but about all the
Speaker 1: small things. How she once broke up with someone for
Speaker 1: ordering her drink, she hated, the time Jamie tried and
Speaker 1: failed to fix the leaky faucet and nearly flooded the kitchen.
Speaker 1: The humor is fragile, but real, gentle, static that fills
Speaker 1: up the air where the silence had been. Eventually, Kay leaves.
Speaker 1: I'm alone, but more solve, no less ruined, but no
Speaker 1: longer waitless. In the wreckage, the city darkens through the windows.
Speaker 1: I moved through the rooms, switching off lights one by one,
Speaker 1: until only the bedroom lamp burns, a little circle of
Speaker 1: yellow floating in the dusk. I lie in bed, foam,
Speaker 1: face down on the night, sien os open and fixed
Speaker 1: to the ceiling. I listen to the pipes, the late
Speaker 1: buses rumbling pass, the sound of a neighbor's TV drifting
Speaker 1: through the walls, someone else's story on the other side.
Speaker 1: For the first time since Jamie left, sleep comes suddenly
Speaker 1: without struggle, like giving into a tight and is older
Speaker 1: than pain. In the morning, everything is changed again, if
Speaker 1: only by a shade. The habits of togetherness are a
Speaker 1: hollow ache pouring two moulcs of coffee, waiting for the
Speaker 1: sound of another's footsteps, expecting a message I know won't come.
Speaker 1: I nurse a headache, glance at my phone, but Jamie's
Speaker 1: name stays buried at the bottom of the favorites list.
Speaker 1: He last message nothing more than a time stamp. I
Speaker 1: try and fail to remember a single thing I need
Speaker 1: to do. Work, emails go unanswered. The trip to Portland
Speaker 1: is still canceled. The suitcases we were meant to pack
Speaker 1: slump danty in the bedroom, in the frch, a bunch
Speaker 1: of waltered kale, oat milk, a half used tub of hummers,
Speaker 1: reminders of routines that now feel performed for an audience,
Speaker 1: thus left their seats. Almost in a days, I set
Speaker 1: about putting things away, her spare running bottle hurray of
Speaker 1: branded hair at eyes, every little turtem, I feel the
Speaker 1: compulsion to eraise her and shrink from it. In the
Speaker 1: same bath instead, I make a neat pile of her
Speaker 1: things on the dresser, not touching the shoes. I leave
Speaker 1: the kitchen as she left it, mugs abandoned in the sink,
Speaker 1: a half finished podcast still paused on her tablet. By afternoon,
Speaker 1: the silence is so thick it's almost humming. The city
Speaker 1: unculs outside the day, pressing close against the glass, I
Speaker 1: realize I'm starving. Make toast as if muscle memory can
Speaker 1: drag me through and try to eat despite the sand
Speaker 1: paper mouth. A meal for one, no playlist, no witty banter,
Speaker 1: just my own breath moving in the hush. Midway through
Speaker 1: the meal, a text flashes Jamie. The message is brief
Speaker 1: direct I'll come by to morrow for some things when
Speaker 1: you're out, if that's okay. I stare at the words,
Speaker 1: thumb hovering over the keyboard. All the things I want
Speaker 1: to say, Accusations, questions, please, are crowded at by exhaustion.
Speaker 1: I type back, that's fine, let me know what you take.
Speaker 1: Her reply comes quickly, thank you, I'm sorry for Oliver,
Speaker 1: and then nothing. It's a practical thing, This exchange far
Speaker 1: from reconciliation, farther stole from anger, a mutual understanding of
Speaker 1: what's ended. That night, I pack away the last of
Speaker 1: her book, stacked by the bed, in the drawer where
Speaker 1: she kept her running journals. I find a note, undated,
Speaker 1: written on the back of an old race registration, but
Speaker 1: remember to stop over her if it stops feeling like joy.
Speaker 1: Her handwriting is bolder than it used to be. The
Speaker 1: words earnest, almost naive. For a while, I hold it,
Speaker 1: thinking about beginnings, how hope works, how naivete can survive
Speaker 1: for so long, how quickly it can evaporate. The day
Speaker 1: Jamie comes to collect her things, I leave early, as promise.
Speaker 1: I walk the city, bots echoing on white pavement and
Speaker 1: try not to look up at windows. By noon, I
Speaker 1: returned to a hallway strip of her shoes, ad dress,
Speaker 1: a cleared of her t shirts, a lingering scent of
Speaker 1: for shampoo in the bathroom. It's as if she folded
Speaker 1: herself out of sight, each object ereased with tidy precision,
Speaker 1: not an act as storming hostage, but a careful hand
Speaker 1: removing the back drop itself on the fridge is a
Speaker 1: single sticky note, her handwriting looping, take care of yourself, Alex.
Speaker 1: As if I need reminding, I call up on the
Speaker 1: sofa and breathe for the first time in a week.
Speaker 1: Deep good, but finally my own. That evening, as rain
Speaker 1: drums the glass, I gather the last of her things,
Speaker 1: an old race be a pair of tangled headphones, the
Speaker 1: playlist she once insisted at laf and box them up.
Speaker 1: I text her once more, there's a box for you
Speaker 1: in the hallway. This time she doesn't reply, and for
Speaker 1: once the silence feels like relief. I tidy the kitchen,
Speaker 1: wiping counters and stacking dishes. Let in the small acts
Speaker 1: of living rube me in the present. I delete the
Speaker 1: Running Club's playlist from Spotify, close the photo app, power
Speaker 1: off my phone. When I finally switch off the last light,
Speaker 1: I feel the absence like a breeze across gain. Not
Speaker 1: absence as punishment, but as fact. Tomorrow will come, bringing
Speaker 1: routines that don't yet feel natural. But for now, for
Speaker 1: to night, I linger in the quiet, the air clean
Speaker 1: and an adorn, with nothing to explain. Standing at the
Speaker 1: window as down edges through the blinds, I let go
Speaker 1: of the breath have held for days. The city is
Speaker 1: just beginning. Cause rolling past a jogger silhouette passing under
Speaker 1: the street lamp, anonymous and small. Behind me, the space
Speaker 1: Jamie left is just that space in the muticom, everything
Speaker 1: sharpens for the first time since breaking. I'm not bracing
Speaker 1: myself for the next blow. This only stillness. I dance,
Speaker 1: honest piece sorrow, yes, but also the barest promise of
Speaker 1: something like acceptance, rising with the light