Falling Out
by Lenka Miklosova Vrazda
An evening catches you again softly wrapped in your flannel comforter. Somewhere in this house, perhaps on the first floor, is he. He, in whose arms you’re supposed to be safely tucked in. You hear him washing the dishes. His footsteps on the wooden floor. Your eyelids grew heavy with tiredness. You feel a hot and wet tear running down your cheek. Lonelier than lonely. You hear him taking a shower, whistling under his breath, brushing his teeth, spitting toothpaste in the sink. You feel his hand on a doorknob followed by squeaking of the door he was supposed to oil a while ago. Now he’s in the hallway and now he’s gone. In his bedroom, in his bed. So close yet so far.
The next morning, he kisses before you start making breakfast. He comes to the kitchen bringing a dirty coffee mug, making sure he doesn’t brush against you while you’re standing by the sink washing the plates. Your child comes to ask you if daddy made you some tea. “No darling, no today.” Your child’s smile freezes as you’re trying to smile at him. “Let’s go or you’ll be late for school,” He announces to your child and without looking at you, the door closes behind him. You hand your child a backpack with his lunch, kiss his cheeks and he’s gone too. Lonelier than lonely. A quick stop at the store for forgotten eggs. Staff meeting. Phone calls. Reports. Invoices. Noon. No text from him. A glance at the photograph of him and your child you carry in your wallet. Gym. Admiring looks of other men. Another evening at home. No looks. A happy child, his warm cheeks. Bathtime. Dinner. Shower. Flannel comforter. Tears. Lonelier than lonely.
Lenka Miklosova Vrazda is originally from Slovakia but currently lives and writes in the United States.
