Chapter thirty-six
Antonia
I almost didn’t tell him. I was fully prepared to end it and move on. The last thing I wanted to be was another tragedy in his life. People can only take so much, and I didn’t want the last straw to be me.
He’s gone again.
The sun’s cracking through the curtains. His side of the bed is still warm. I’m not surprised. He kissed my forehead before he left.
I love that about him, how he puts his sons first. I like to think I’d have done the same. I know I would have.
It makes it even more special. It makes the time he has with me more precious.
I stay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, letting the silence settle around me, letting the gravity of the situation sink in.
It could be nothing. That’s what people say.
I’ve been over this in my head a million times.
But it could be something.
And telling him meant letting him in. Letting him carry it with me. Or grieve with me before we’ve even begun.
But life doesn’t end just because you find a lump in your armpit. The world keeps turning. Life has to go on. Finally, I decide I must get up and face the day.
I have an appointment this morning at ten o’clock with his colleague. He said he’s coming to pick me up and take me there. He won’t come in. He offered, but I said no. I need to do this alone. The start of it anyway. But he’ll wait for me and ensure I’m all right.
He even said he’d buy me breakfast.
What girl could refuse that offer?
So I told Clara I’d be late today. She didn’t press. She knows when not to ask questions.
Finally, I pull back the duvet.
But it’s warm, not cold. He turned on the heat before he left. I appreciate that.
The apartment feels empty without him, though. Then I see his shirt hanging over the back of the chair at my dressing table.
He’s leaving things now. A toothbrush on the sink, deodorant in the bathroom cabinet. Little things that don’t seem much, but they mean a lot.
I push myself out of bed, grab my robe, shrug it on, and head for coffee.
It’s needed this morning. No matter my health, a cup of coffee will kick-start my mood.
Anyway, he’s coming to pick me up.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Eight o’clock.
I slept in.
That’s not something I’m used to doing. Usually, I’m up before the alarm. I must have needed it.
I make my way through to the kitchen. My mug from last night is already washed, cleaned, and dried next to the sink.
That’s Ben.
Every morning I wake up, my kitchen is cleaner than when I left it the night before. Habit, I suppose. The single dad working and running a household has to manage somehow.