I pulled over to the side of the road for almost an hour before my stomach got better.
I restarted the car and went back to the house. Everett was sitting on the couch when I opened the door.
Hearing movement, he glanced back at me.
It was a very detached glance, and after meeting his eyes for a moment, he quickly averted them again and continued to play with his phone, supposedly chatting with the girl.
I ignored it, changed my slippers, and walked into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, I made Everett a two-course meal and some porridge for myself.
He came over naturally without me having to greet him.
I put the dishes away and started eating to myself.
He swept me off my feet, his voice deep, “Why don’t you eat your food?”
With a thud in my heart, I pretended to be indifferent and said, “I don’t have much appetite, so I’ll drink some congee to improve my digestion.”
“Oh.” He answered faintly and stopped paying attention to me, playing with his phone while eating.
The mood at the table dropped a little, and for the first time, there was awkwardness between the two of us, Everett and me.
Once upon a time, he didn’t talk, I didn’t talk, I just sat in silence, and it wouldn’t have felt this way.
A bowl of porridge is tasteless and does nothing but bring a little warmth to the stomach.
After a moment of silence, while watching his expression, I gently asked, “Do you have time tomorrow, or, let’s go eat at the Willow Lane place …”
Before the words were out of his mouth, he rejected me without looking up, “Busy tomorrow.”
He was looking at his phone the whole time and wouldn’t even share a glance with me.
The answer was expected, and I pulled a smile and said slowly, “Okay, well, get busy then and we’ll talk about it sometime.”
He didn’t bother to pay attention to me. I stopped talking and waited for him to finish eating, I cleaned up the dishes, and after I washed the dishes, I took two pills and the stomach pain wasn’t as noticeable.
Everett went to the other bedroom, as usual.
I lay down on the bed, the dim light hitting the wedding picture that lay on the nightstand, a picture of a young me, and a smiling Everett looking at each other, oblivious, with nothing but each other in their eyes.
I couldn’t help but wonder when, exactly, it started to be like this, between Everett and me.
I met Everett when I was twenty-six years old, and it’s now been eleven years since then, and for the past nine years he and I have been, admittedly, on good terms.
At first, his parents did not agree that we are together. Love is fine, but marriage is not, because I am not qualified for any of them, whether it is the way I talk, look, or family background. But Everett loved me and was determined to be with me.
In the coldest winter, he knelt in the snow for days without eating or drinking. If his parents didn’t agree, he wouldn’t get up. In the end, he froze his knees and fainted before his parents nodded. Until now, when it gets a little cooler in the fall, I have to prepare knee warmers for Everett.
After we got married, Everettand I got out of the house and started our own business. We were each on our own, with me running the company and him connecting the dots.
We were out socializing and drinking five days out of the week. The guys in the business community, knowing Everett was the son of the Thorne Family, were more or less scrupulous about him. But me, not so much.
My stomach problems, that’s when I had them.