Chocolate

by Mares, Maggie

  “Hey,” I called out from the kitchen when I heard the door close. I had my back to the rest of the apartment while I dug in the cabinet for some clean plates. We really need to run the dishwasher, I thought. When Luke didn’t answer me, I turned around to see him standing in the middle of the living room, still wearing his coat, and staring blankly out of the windows that lined the opposite wall. “How did the editing go today?” I asked. Still he didn’t answer. “Luke!”

  “Hmmm?” he finally said.

  “Wow,” I shook my head. “You are off in space. Are you hungry?”

  “Huh? Uh, no. I’m going to go take a shower,” he said before turning and leaving the room.

  I watched him retreat into the bedroom. That was weird, I thought. Luke and I had had dinner together every night since I’d started staying here. I tried not to let it bother me, though. Maybe he had a long day and just needs a few minutes to himself. I’d certainly been there before. I mean, not since I’d started dating Luke, but still. I sat down in front of the TV with a plate of food, figuring he’d join me when he was ready.

  Except that he didn’t.

  I made it through two hours of terrible reality shows before I finally decided to go see what in the world he was doing. I found him in the spare bedroom that he used as an office, sitting in front of his computer with giant headphones covering his ears. He had his back to me, but from my vantage point in the doorway I could see some fancy sound player pulled up on the screen. Maybe he’s listening to one of his new songs?

  I approached him and gently placed my hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him. No such luck. He jumped about a foot in the air before ripping off his headphones and hastily minimizing the window. If I hadn’t seen the music player myself, I swear I would have thought that he was looking at porn or something.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked angrily.

  “I…,” taken aback by his tone, I sputtered, “I just wanted to see what you were doing. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  It took a minute, but eventually his look softened and he sighed, “It’s fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I’m just…I was working on this and I didn’t expect you to come in.” He wrapped his arm around my hips and pulled me onto his lap. Then he buried his face in the hair that hung down my shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” I said, although I was still thrown off by how irritated with me he’d been a second ago. “I get annoyed when I’m writing and someone interrupts my flow,” I offered in an attempt to be sympathetic.

  I was dying to ask what he’d been working on so intently, but somehow I knew that I wasn’t going to hear a thing until he was ready to let me listen to it. So instead I asked, “Are you almost done for the night?”

  “Not yet. I want to work on this a little longer.” He kissed my shoulder and I could tell that was my cue to leave.

  “Alright, well there’s food in the fridge when you’re ready,” I said as I headed out of the room. But when I turned back around, I saw that he’d already put his headphones on again. I shook my head and closed the door behind me.

  Hours later, it was nearing midnight and Luke still hadn’t emerged from his office. I had an early meeting with Arthur the next morning and I needed to get some sleep. Sighing, I flipped off the TV and rolled off the couch. Making my way to the master bedroom alone felt weird. My nights up until now had always followed the same routine: Luke and I would have dinner in front of the TV, fool around on the couch, move the party to the bedroom, bang each other’s brains out, and then go to sleep. This was the first night we’d deviated and I didn’t like it one bit.

  It took me a long time to fall asleep without Luke lying next to me. I missed the feeling of his arms holding me close, of his chest pressed against my back, of his breath caressing my neck. Without him, the bed was cold and empty.

  I told myself that I was acting crazy, that he was just in the next room working, and that I had become exceedingly codependent exceedingly quickly. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very off here. As I finally started to drift off to sleep, my last thought was that I hoped I was wrong.

  Well, he came to bed for a bit, at least. I stared at the rumpled pillow and comforter on Luke’s side of the mattress. It was just after seven, and I was more than a little surprised to not see him sprawled out next to me. Luke Davies was a lot of things, but a morning person wasn’t one of them. He never stirred before eight, not even since he’d started spending so much of his time in the studio. It was one of the things I liked about him, mostly because I wasn’t exactly a carpe diem type of girl myself. Having a co-conspirator in my laziness plot was essential. But today I was being forced to act alone.

  I lay still and listened for him in the apartment. Nothing. Not a spoon dropping into the sink or a shower being turned on. He wasn’t here. Hmm, he didn’t mention having to leave early today, but then again we didn’t talk, like, at all last night, so maybe that’s it. Yeah, I’m sure that’s it, I told myself before I rolled out of bed.

  I tried not to let the sinking feeling that something was wrong bother me as I went about my day. I also tried not to let it bother me that Luke didn’t call or text me once either. We usually texted at least a few times throughout the day, especially lately since he’d been out of the house so much, but he always initiated the conversation and I wasn’t ready to reverse our roles by texting him first just yet. I knew that would sound like an insignificant distinction to an outsider, but to me, it was an important one.

  I worked late at my office that night, half because I had a deadline coming up and half because I wanted to let Luke beat me home. I had the perhaps deluded thought that maybe if he came home to an empty apartment, he would realize that he missed me and hopefully start acting normally again.

  I was sorely disappointed.

  I walked through the front door into a totally dark and deserted apartment. Strike that. It wasn’t deserted. A dim glow crept out from under the closed door of Luke’s office. Again? I pulled off my winter boots and set down my bag and coat before I padded over there in my stockinged feet.

  I knocked softly. “Yeah?” his voice called out from within.

  I turned the knob. From the doorway I could see him sitting at his computer with his back to me, just like I’d found him the night before, except this time his headphones were lying on the desk next to him.

  “…Hi,” I said after a few seconds. He’s not even going to turn around?

  “What’s up?” he asked distractedly.

  “Nothing,” I said to his back. Now I was starting to get a little angry. By any standards, this was rude. “Luke, could you turn around and look at me?” I tried to keep my tone from sounding as irritated as I felt.

  He did, but I got the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to. “Yes Lyssa?”

  “How was your day?” I asked.

  “It was fine. How was yours?” he replied cordially.

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.” An awkward silence descended. “…Umm, do you want to order something for dinner?” I asked after a minute. I felt more like I was talking to someone I’d just met than the man I’d been living with for the past two and a half months.

  “Not right now, no. I want to keep working on this.”

  “But you worked all night last night. Just come and hang out for a bit. I haven’t talked to you all day.” I was trying to avoid sounding whiney, but it didn’t quite work.

  “I really can’t right now, Lyss. I’m sorry,” he said. But he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded like he wanted me to leave him alone.

  “You know what? Fine. Never mind,” I spat before I turned and pulled the door shut behind me. I didn’t slam it, but I really wanted to. I was pissed. And I was hurt. Who did this guy think he was, treating me like I was some annoyance he could just suddenly decide to dismiss? I mean, what the hell had happened here? Was it not just two days ago that he had come home and snuggled u
p with me on the couch, and then proceeded to have sex with me on that very same couch? I wracked my brain trying to figure out if I had said or done something that could have caused him to shut down like this. I had nothing.

  I was fuming as I stalked around the living room. More than anything, I wanted to burst back into his office and demand that he tell me why he was acting so bizarrely, why he was avoiding me. But this wasn’t my first rodeo and I knew that even though men liked to accuse women of being moody, they too succumbed to the occasional mood swing. And if Luke was just having a bad couple of days, then yelling at him about it wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Better to let him get through it and discuss it when he’d thawed a bit. But there was a line between letting a person have his space and letting a person be rude to me for no reason. I would not tolerate the latter.

  I determined that I would give Luke one more day to be closed off and distant. One more day to shut himself up in that office away from me. Tomorrow, if he didn’t start acting like the Luke I’d come to adore over the past couple of months, then he was at least going to have to tell me why.

  How To Be Dead

  I awoke to find Luke’s side of the mattress in the same state as it had been in the morning before. He’d clearly come to bed at some point during the night, but he was gone now. This did not bode well for my hope that he would just get over whatever was bothering him without me having to confront him about it. Damnit, I thought as I stared at Luke’s vacant pillow. I really hated having conversations about things like this. I liked everything to be copacetic all the time. No emotional stuff necessary. Well, too bad for me, I guess. I couldn’t keep living like we’d been living for the past few days, so I was just going to have to suck it up and talk to the curmudgeon who had evidently body snatched my boyfriend.

  I sighed and shoved myself out of bed. Within an hour, I was showered, dressed, and at my office. Not because I actually needed to be at my desk, but because I didn’t think that I could stand being in Luke’s apartment all day. I had no desire to be surrounded by his things, to be in his space, when there was something so obviously wrong going on with him. And maybe with us.

  The time seemed to positively drag all day long. I would check my phone, work for a bit, get distracted thinking about Luke, work for a bit more, check my phone again, think, “I can’t believe it’s only been five minutes since the last time I looked at my phone,” and then check my phone one more time just to be sure. But no matter how many times I checked, there was never anything from Luke. Just like yesterday, he was incommunicado all day. Finally, a year later, six o’clock rolled around, and I decided to bite the bullet and text him to see if he was at the apartment. When I’d received no response by seven, I packed up my things and headed over there.

  I put my key in the lock and stepped inside. The place was dark, with not even the dim light from Luke’s office to greet me when I walked through the door. He wasn’t home. Hmm. I changed my clothes and turned on the TV, needing a break from the resounding silence that surrounded me. I sat down on the couch in my sweats and thought about heating up some food, but an anxious feeling in my stomach made dinner out of the question. This wasn’t like Luke. Even though he was a musician, he maintained a pretty regular schedule. I didn’t think that he’d come home later than seven since I’d known him. And he’d never just flat-out ignored a text from me before either.

  At nine, I sent him another message asking where he was. No answer. Damn. I pretended to watch TV for the next two hours, but really I was too busy glancing at my phone every couple of seconds to pay any attention. Around eleven, I called him and got his voicemail. Now I was actually worried. I walked down to the garage. His car wasn’t here. What if he’d gotten into an accident? What if he was hurt somewhere? I was sure I wasn’t his in-case-of-emergency person. I mean, he wasn’t mine. We’d never talked about that.

  I began pacing around the apartment. I didn’t know what to do or who to call. I’d met Luke’s bandmates a bunch of times, but I didn’t have any of their numbers. I never thought that I’d need them. Same thing with his manager. I didn’t know how to contact Max. Come on Luke, pick up, I willed as I tried him again. “Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Luke…” Shit.

  Finally, at almost two in the morning, just as I was contemplating whether I should start calling hospitals, I heard his key in the lock. Oh thank god. But my relief was short-lived.

  My first indication that Luke Davies was extremely drunk was when he dropped his keys as he stepped through the door. It wasn’t the dropping of the keys that tipped me off so much as it was the labored way he bent down to pick them up. First he tilted his head back and breathed in deeply through his nose, as only people who are truly inebriated do. Then he crouched down awkwardly low and swatted at them a few times before he managed to get his hand around them.

  Wow.

  His eyes were squinted when he stood up and looked at me, but soon a big stupid grin spread across his face. “There sh’is!” he slurred.

  I crossed my arms and stared at him. “Yes, here I am,” I said. “I’ve been here. Where have you been?”

  “Out,” he replied. “With th’guys. Went… to a bar.”

  “Yes, that much is obvious,” I snapped. “You didn’t drive home, did you?”

  “Nope,” he shook his head. Then he stepped heavily away from the door and into the living room where I was standing. “Come ’ere,” he said, pawing at me.

  “No.” I stepped back. “I’m mad at you.”

  Although the thought had crossed my mind that maybe he’d been out with another girl and that’s why he didn’t come home, I was now confident that, even if he’d been with a girl, there was no way he could have done anything with her in his current state. Luke was definitely the level of drunk that it took someone his size several hours and probably an entire bottle of whiskey to achieve. Plus, the only scent that clung to him was the booze. Not that that in any way excused his behavior.

  “You’re…mad at me?” he asked, clearly perplexed.

  “Yes, I’m mad at you.”

  “Bu’why?”

  “Why?” I was incredulous. “Why? Because it’s two in the morning and you just got home and I’ve been worried! Did you not get all of my messages and missed calls? Did you lose your phone? Did you drop it in the swimming pool of whiskey that you apparently drank tonight?”

  He felt around in his pocket. “Nope,” he said innocently. “S’right here.” He pulled it out and showed it to me. Right there glowing on the screen were all of my messages.

  I was so infuriated, I actually growled. I couldn’t believe this guy. And the thing was, I wasn’t even angry about the fact that he was drunk. I mean, I wasn’t thrilled that he’d gotten this drunk when I wasn’t there, but as far as I was concerned, mature adults could make their own decisions about alcohol consumption. I’d certainly been known to over-indulge, like, more times than I liked to admit. What bothered me was that I clearly hadn’t crossed his mind at any point during the night. He hadn’t even checked his phone since before six when I’d started texting him.

  I fixed him with an icy glare. “You didn’t think that maybe you should text me?” I asked stonily. “That maybe you should send me something along the lines of, ‘Hey Lyss, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out with the guys ’til, I don’t know, bar close tonight. Since that’s seven hours later than I usually get home, I didn’t want you to worry.’ I mean, my god, Luke, what the fuck is the matter with you lately?”

  “Shhh. Shhh.” He closed his eyes and made an uncoordinated motion with his hands that was presumably meant to tell me that I should calm down. “Don’t wanna talk ’bout this.”

  “But that’s the problem Luke,” I said. “You never want to talk about anything anymore. It’s been three days and we’ve barely said three words to each other. You have to tell me what’s wrong with you.”

  “Uh uh. Nope,” he shook his head. “Not gonna talk ’bout it now.” />
  His response, or lack thereof, was incredibly irritating, but truthfully, I knew it was pointless to get into this now anyway. Luke probably wouldn’t even remember having this conversation in the morning, and I’d be better off waiting until tomorrow. I realized at that moment that I sort of understood what it felt like to be the parent of a teenager who comes home drunk. You have to let your rage simmer until the object of your ire is sober enough to appreciate it.

  “Come ’ere,” he said and, without warning, he grabbed me and pulled me into his chest. Then he just sort of fell onto the couch, clumsily taking me with him. “Just wanna lay for…minute,” he mumbled before he passed out. Hard.

  I waited until his breathing evened out and then I extricated myself from his tangled grip. I was mad, but I still had to admit that it felt nice to be wrapped in his arms again, even as booze soaked as they were.

  I rolled him onto his side, pulled off his shoes, and then walked over to the hallway linen closet to get a blanket to throw over him. Also, because the alcohol content in his body was likely high enough to render him flammable at this point, I made sure that there were no open flames or electrical sources anywhere near him before I turned out the light. That was just Home Safety 101.

  As I climbed into bed in the master bedroom a few minutes later, I felt a firm resolve settle over me. I was done putting up with this nonsense from Luke. No matter what, tomorrow we were going to work out whatever was going on between us. I didn’t care if I had to tie him to a chair. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  The next morning, I had to drive down to the University of Illinois in Champaign to interview a band that was doing the college circuit. Even though I was very cranky when I got out of bed, I resisted the urge to wake Luke up by making a lot of noise in the apartment. Although, the idea of banging pots and pans together right next to his ear was particularly tempting. We had a lot to discuss that I didn’t have time to get into now, and I preferred not to do the awkward fighting-couple-avoiding-each-other dance while I was trying to get out the door.