She rolled over when she heard him reach the top of the stairs. She watched the room flood with light from behind her as he opened the door to their bedroom. She laid perfectly still, not wanting him to think she was awake. He thought that she hadn't waited for him to get home for a good two months, when honestly she did every night. No, she didn't leave the light on anymore, and she didn't fall asleep in the chair, but she did lay wake waiting anxiously to hear the front door open. He came home at all hours of the night, but she was just happy that he still came home. She laid with her eyes closed and listened to the sounds of him move around the room as he got ready for bed. She heard his belt buckle hit the floor, then the sound of him taking off his shirt. She wanted to sit up and watch him like she used to. She used to love to watch him undress, especially when he didn't know she was. But she didn't move, and as he moved past the bed she caught the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and perfume. She felt nothing and everything at once when her emotions hit her. She didn't care, but it was killing her at the same time.
He the made his way across the room, closed the door to the bathroom, and turned on the light. She opened her eyes and looked at the light coming through the cracks. She wondered if he knew he smelled like that, like them. She wondered if he even cared. How long would it be until he didn't come home one night? How long would it be until he told her it was over and he was moving out? What would she do then? She twisted the sheets in her hand to stop her from crying, and from getting up to go join him in the bathroom. She heard him turn on the faucet and then the sound of him brushing his teeth. She laid her head back down and looked off into the darkness as she waited for him to get finished.
Five minutes later the light in the bathroom went out and the door opened. She had her eyes closed again, and again listened as he moved across the room. She felt the shift of the bed and sheets as he climbed in. He laid down on his back with a tired sigh. He didn't move toward her, in fact he stayed as far away from her side of the bed as possible. She was waiting to feel him roll over to sleep next to her, she wanted to feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. But he didn't make a move, he hadn't in so long. Why should she have hoped it would be different tonight? She felt his feet rub against hers for a moment before he pulled them away and turned to lie on his side. That's how it was between them. They didn't touch, they didn't talk, and they didn't see each other. They were always to busy, or to tired, or just not home. Why the hell were they even still together. It had been two months since they had made love. God how she missed the way he kissed her. She turned her head enough to see him. He had his back to her. For a moment she wanted to roll over and wrap her arms around the gorgeous tan, brown hair, green-eyed man next to her. For a moment she wanted to let him know she was awake and whisper to him the she loved him. But she decided against it and turned her head away from him. She looked at the clock next to her. 2:45 a.m.
He flicked on the hallway light as he came in the door. He noticed that her coat was hung up on the rack as he hung his up beside it. She was home, most likely in bed. She hadn't waited up for him; in fact it had been a long time since she last had. Could he blame her? He never came home at the same time every night. Some nights it was two in the morning, other nights it could be three or four. It all depended on what time he and his friends got out of the bar they went to that night. That usually depended on how many girls they had met. Tonight he was home at two. They had left the club early due to the fact that they had a huge project to work on in the morning. He climbed the stairs of their Albany condo and made his way to their room. He found the door closed. He had been right, she was sleeping. He opened the door and let the light flood the room. His eyes landed on her sleeping figure as his eyes adjusted. He turned off the hallway light and shut the door. He moved around the room quietly as he took off his clothes. He could hear he breathing from where he stood. It was peaceful and relaxed. She had lost no sleep over him staying out late. He took off his shirt and made his way to the bathroom.
Before he closed the door he stole a glance at her. She was wrapped up in the sheets and looked so content. He closed the door and turned on the light. He stared at his reflection for a moment before brushing his teeth. He avoided looking in the mirror after that.
Five minutes later- having washed the sent of beer, cigarettes and cheap perfume off him-he turned the light off and opened the door. He made his way to the bed as quickly and quietly as he could. He avoided looking at her as he climbed in. He pulled the sheets over him and let out a sigh as he closed his eyes. She hadn't moved. Had he not woken her up? Did where he went and what he did after work mean so less to her that she didn't care at all? Why didn't she wait up for him anymore? He let out a sigh. He forced his eyes to stay shut so he couldn't look at her, because he wanted to so bad. He stretched out his legs and felt his feet rub up against hers. He immediately moved them away. He didn't want to wake her up. He didn't want the third degree on where he had been, even though she had never asked before, and he definitely didn't want her to roll over and give him a look that said 'I-don't-care-where-you've-been-but-did-you-have-to-wake-me-up?' That would kill him. He rolled over onto his side, away from her. He wrapped his arms around himself because he knew he couldn't wrap them around her. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to wrap one arm around her waist and play with her long brown hair with the other hand until they both fell asleep. He wanted her to burry her face in between his neck and shoulder and whisper 'I'm glad your home' like she used too. He wanted to wake her up right then and there and tell her that he still loved her and ask if she still felt the same. But he didn't. Instead he closed his eyes and hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.