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Couple continues their torrid rendezvous.

My ruminating was taking too long so she sat back and said, "I thought so," with smug self satisfaction. She looked at my face, "I'm sorry about the eye," she offered, like that was going to make everything better.

I stood up, taking my big gulp from the table. "Elle. I don't know what's going on, but this isn't healthy. Not for you, not for me, not for Amber. I want to help, but I won't be made a fool of. So keep that in mind before we find ourselves in a place we can't get back from. And trust me, we're just about there." I picked up my keys. "I'm going to Home Depot for a piece of sheet rock. Amber is napping. Please take care of her until I get back."

She nodded in response, her expression once more serene. She sipped her coffee again as I walked out the door, climbed into my Equinox and drove away.

Did you ever beat the shit out of your steering wheel? I mean really go to town on it? Squeezing it like it was someone's neck, twisting it like you could choke it? And the yelling - what good is it to beat the crap out of your steering wheel and dashboard if you can't unload every dirty foul curse word you could imagine to the empty seat next to you and then go back to the beginning of the list and scream them all again?

I had no memory of actually driving to Home Depot, but I am sure that the people who had driven next to me or were stopped at the lights in the next car were getting quite a show. When I finally calmed down I was in the parking lot, my heart racing and my knuckles sore. The interior of the truck didn't appear to be damaged which made me thankful that my rage was not unbounded. I killed the ignition and got out, drawing a shaky breath before exhaling slowly.

I did this twice more and felt marginally well enough to go in and get what supplies I needed. It didn't take long and within the hour I was back home screwing new drywall into place and cleaning up the worst of the gouges. Amber seemed unfazed from the problem earlier and was happy to scoot around the floor in her wheeled chair. As for Elle, she stayed away from both of us, working on her computer with only the minimal of interactions. A few times I managed to catch glimpses of what she was doing and it was evenly divided between some sort of messenger or chat program and her actual freelance work.

The day was strained and it passed slowly. Dinner was hotdogs and burgers on the small Weber grill outside, Elle opting not to eat with us, saying she wanted to get everything done tonight. Truthfully, I didn't care. My mind was in turmoil, no solution was forthcoming. Mostly because there was no actual explanation of what the entire problem was either.

Eventually Amber was put to bed and I took a fast shower after folding the laundry and putting it away. I crawled into bed and rooted around for the latest Destroyerman novel I have been reading. I read maybe 30 pages of Captain Reddy and his fight against the Grik when I realized I was falling asleep. I put the bookmark in, tossed the paperback onto the floor, and turned off my light.

9:53. I could hear Elle tapping away in the office. She hadn't said a word to me for almost 5 hours and I was wondering, when I woke up in the morning, would she even been sleeping in the bed with me? And then to my shame just before I faded away, I hoped that she wouldn't.

I awoke Sunday morning feeling like hammered shit. My mouth was scratchy, the left side of my face ached, and my hands hurt. I glanced over and saw that Elle had come to bed at some point, she was still sleeping. I rolled up and eased my way out of bed, hands pressing against my knees as I lifted myself upright.

7:03.

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