I'm so exhausted I can't even put the key in the lock, laughing to myself.
It didn't go so badly, indeed, Louis's presence made it more pleasant: I've never met a more courteous person than him in my life.
Today I learned that he is from Toronto, but that he has spent most of his life among the trees of West Virginia, the the place I have always wanted to visit, but which for obvious reasons has remained only a dream.
He is a vegetarian and for this he deserves my esteem, not because I am a vegetarian, on the contrary, I love meat and if I could I would also eat it for breakfast, but rather because you have to be courageous not to eat it, and then you are even more advantaged, because in theory it's harder to get fat, which is becoming a problem for me lately.
Louis is a rare man for another reason as well: the first vegetarian and teetotaler I know.
I sigh as soon as I enter the living room, finding the television on and Alex lying on the sofa, even if from this distance I can't tell if he's already asleep or not.
He may really have fallen asleep right now, so I take this opportunity to look on his side for a while, even if all I see is his elbow raised: just seeing him again after an evening like this makes my blood boil in my veins for anger.
I really hate him in such cases. When I have the impression that he underestimates me because he is aware of the fact that I will always return to him anyway. He's arrogant and confident because he knows I love him and I couldn't push him away or run anywhere.
He is a billionaire asshole thanks to his father and for the work he does and so he thinks he has the world at his feet.
And this is exactly what makes me angry, that for him I am becoming like the others, that is, like all those who lower their eyes as soon as Alex takes a threatening expression, or just flirt with him not to make him angry.
He is considering me as one of the many women he has had in his life and I am afraid that he will do with me what he has always done with the others, abandoning me when I least expect it, and tonight he gave me the proof of it.
The Alex I thought I knew would have chased me, he would have taken me by weight and forced me into the house, then I would have yelled at him, he would have reacted, I would have answered back to make him lose his patience and force him to kiss me with enthusiasm, as only he knows how to kiss, at the point of taking my breath away and making me forget why I was angry with him.
Then we would have ended up under the covers and I would have been warm in his arms, the next day I would have woke up under his muscles.
Maybe it was Australia that changed him, maybe Juliet is not the only one who wants to return to the Bronx, most likely Alex also wants to see his family again.
It is obvious that there is something missing, but apparently it is not enough to fill this void.
If before I was smiling at the quiet outcome of the dinner, now I'm almost anxious to face him. I pass the sofa as soon as I notice that Alex is not sleeping, but awake with his eyes fixed on the mobile screen. I take my eyes off his figure, and then reach the kitchen island, then the refrigerator.
It seems to me that at this moment the usual scene is being resumed: we are both silent until one of the two has found the reason to speak, that is myself, to bring the situation back to normal.
I open the fridge door feeling his eyes behind me, but I try not to get distracted and take out a carton of apple juice, pouring it into a glass that I find on the kitchen counter.
Most likely there was beer in it before.
"Did you have fun?" - he spits with such a hoarse and cold tone that the desire to jump on him to slap him torments me.
I raise a threatening look to meet his eyes. He has a raised eyebrow, which does nothing but fuel my anger.
"You can't imagine." - I raise my head in a defiant tone. If he thinks of making me lower back to his feet, he can forget it, in fact I don't let him reply and continue:
"I'm happy you didn't come, actually!" - I nod at my same words, trying not to go too far, as I finish my provocation:
"I felt freer without a husband next to me. »- the words escape me without being able to control what I'm saying.
My colleagues bragged about their betrothed, while I felt out of place, and it would have been like that all evening if it weren't for Louis and his jokes.
«I'm not your husband.» - he points out in a severe tone and I don't know why, but these words really strike me.
I'm not your husband.
It escaped me! Damn it! It's all my mom's fault!
"I wanted you with me tonight! Why don't you understand that it was important? "-I resume our conversation of few hours ago.
"It was a fucking dinner!"- raises his tone of voice, which leads me to do the same:
"Not for me! Was it too much to get your ass off the couch and spend some time with me, rather than watching Dwayne in the ring?»- I slam the fridge door, regardless of the fact that Juliet is sleeping in the room next to us.
"Don't be a victim, if you really wanted to spend time with me, you could have stayed at home, instead you preferred to dress as a whore and show your ass to your boss!" - the vein on his neck becomes clearly evident, while I open my mouth to his words for frustration and anger at the same time.
I feel the tears cloud my sight as his gaze leaves mine and he turns to bring his attention back to the television again.
«I just wanted to be beautiful for you.» - I whisper in order not to be heard by him, then I move away from the kitchen and quickly reach my room.
I close the door behind me, and then position myself in front of the mirror.
'You preferred to dress up as a whore and show your ass to your boss!'
His words are repeated in my head, while my breathing becomes irregular: instinctively I leave the dress on the ground, and then grab it and go in search of a pair of scissors.
As soon as I find them, after rummaging in the top drawer, I reduce the dress to rags until I feel completely calm.
The tears flow regardless of the desire to restrain them and a silent sob escapes me as I hide the disaster I have made under the bed.
I take a pair of pajamas from the closet, and then hide under the covers.
I hate him to death!
I knew living with him wasn't going to be easy, I knew my life would most likely turn into hell, but I felt like I was strong enough to get through it and I worked hard.
He, on the other hand, seems not to have changed at all:
I'm not your husband.
What did he want to point out with his words? That I will be only a girlfriend to him forever? Apparently our relationship is not very close to evolve to him.
He made me understand that he has no plans in mind, while I dream of the perfect family, with him walking around the house with a baby in his arms and Julieta becoming jealous like a typical older sister.
The sobs escapes my lips again as I try to fall asleep.
The rain has always relaxed me, but tonight it does nothing but affect my state of depression.
I stare at the window and start counting the single drops of rain hitting the glass, illuminated by the courtyard lighthouse: I get distracted, but I manage to push the figure of Alex out of my head for a moment, while I finally manage to turn off my brain and lose myself in a deep sleep.
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