Ostriches
So much to talk about…
I started the new job on Monday. I thought it went well, though Dr. Lavelle is pretty intense. I haven’t even been there a week and I already have a few important assignments to work on. Good thing I’m not scared of a little hard work! Or a lot 
What’s cool is that she wants me to help coordinate this huuuge gala event we’re having in a few months to celebrate our new Hopper exhibit. Personally, I’m not Hopper’s biggest fan - sorry, just never cared for his style - but it will be fun nonetheless. Anyway, I am in charge of facilitating and managing our vendor relationships. Do you have any idea how hard it is to coordinate a party in this city? Not only do I have to help manage the event management group, I have to help coordinate the invite design and mailing. And that’s on top of the three other projects she needs my help with. But, this is my dream job, so I can’t complain too much
When I came home last night Heath was already sprawled out on the bed watching Sportscenter. You’d think after I reamed him for the whole “separate apartment thing” he’d be falling all over himself, right? Well…he was! He didn’t even say anything when I turned off the TV for no other reason than I wanted to talk. And to think I want a dog.
“Hey babe,” he said.
I plopped down on the end of the bed and waited for him to come to me. Only when I felt his arms wrap around me did I respond. “Hey there mister.”
“How hard did the evil doctor work you today,” he asked.
“Ughh. You don’t even want to know,” I said, falling back onto the bed. “I’ve got like a ton of stuff to do. All of it important.”
“That’s good. Responsibility builds character.”
I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m just saying, babe…”
“Saying what?”
He laughed. “I mean it’s not like you’ve been setting the world on fire.”
I shot up. “What the hell does that mean?” And with that, I cued the tears.
“Whoa.” He leaned in to give me a hug. “Settle down tiger.”
I pushed him away. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Right, I’m sorry.”
“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been trying.”
His hand started rubbing my back. “I know, babe.”
I could be the victim better than anyone. “If it wasn’t for Will…”
“I know…”
I let the tears and sobs grow. I let him hold me.
“But you’ve got me now,” he said, putting a finger underneath my chin and tilting my face towards his.
I pouted as only I knew how, looked up at him with sad, vulnerable eyes and asked “Do I?”
Of course you do, babe.” He kissed my forehead.
“And Kathy?”
He pulled away from me and took my face in his hands. “Look at me,” he said. “She’ll be gone in no time.”
I smiled. He did too. Then I let him make love to me.
Five minutes later Heath asked me the oddest question. “So, is he pissed or what?”
“Yeah, you think you could at least pull out before asking a question like that?”
“What?”
“I dunno, I guess I’d feel more comfortable answering if your penis wasn’t inside me.”
“Right,” he said as he slid out and rolled over. “So, you think he’s pissed?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How can you be not sure?”
“What’s it matter?”
“It doesn’t. I just want to know if he’s pissed that his girlfriend of four years just dumped him for another guy.”
“Three years,” I corrected.
“Whatever. He’s got to be pissed.”
“You think? Maybe we should introduce him to you wife.”
He ignored my comment.
“I suppose he wants to kick my ass.” Heath puffed up his chest.
“You’re probably right.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“Well then quit being such a dumbass.”
He stopped and gave me a cold look.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said.
“Then don’t talk to me like that.”
Ok, this was something new. A guy with a backbone. New tactic. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said don’t talk to me like that.”
Obviously I played this wrong. But, that didn’t mean I was going to apologize. So I didn’t say anything. Instead, I rolled over and started crying. Heath most certainly was not Will, but he still was a guy and guys can only deal with so much emotion. Especially when it’s unpredictable.
“Liz?”
More sobs.
“Sweetheart?”
Big sniffs and running mascara.
“Don’t yell at me.”
“What?”
I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“I don’t like it when you yell at me.” I did melodrama well.
I heard him mumble “shit” under his breath. But while Will would have done everything in his power to apologize and comfort me, Heath just stood up and walked out of the room.
The tears that came next were real.
I woke up in the middle of the night, alone, confused that Heath wasn’t sleeping next to me. I walked to the living room expecting to find him there, but he wasn’t. I looked at the clock. 2:30 AM. Where the hell was he?
So I checked my cell. No new calls.
Then I tried calling his. Straight to voice mail.
Finally, I called his house.
“Hello,” said the woman, half-asleep.
“Is Heath there?”
“Who’s this?”
I felt like pissing her off, so I told her who it was. If I had to be upset, someone else had to be too.
But she didn’t get pissed. She just mumbled, “He’ll be back on Friday,” and hung up.
What did she mean, “he’ll be back on Friday?” That didn’t make sense. He didn’t go anywhere.
I stumbled back to the bedroom. Too tired to stay awake, but too shocked to sleep, I crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. Sometime later I heard to door open. I closed my eyes and rolled over. The bed sagged as Heath crawled in and I waited for him to kiss the back of my head like he always did before falling asleep, but he didn’t. So, I got up and went to the bathroom. Still, he didn’t acknowledge me.
I should have confronted him.
I should have demanded to know where he was.
I should have screamed, “Why do you smell like booze?” and “you haven’t even told the bitch about us, have you?”
But I knew I wouldn’t like his answers.
Besides, I thought, everything will be better in the morning.
