Jan. Week 4: Tuesday Evening with Jonathan was peaceful (Suspicion: -5)

Jonathan was there early from work...and greeted her from the living room.

“Hey babe!” he said with a smile as he moved toward Leah to embrace her. She accepted the embrace, let her lips meet hers.

{if janweek5_howard_status = 1 } She wondered—just for a moment—if he could possibly smell Howard on her breath, if some part of her shame would manifest and curdle the air between them. But Jonathan just smiled, oblivious, and told her about his day at work. {endif}

{if janweek5_bbc_status = 1 } She wondered—just for a moment—if he could possibly smell Mr. Bill on her breath, if some part of her shame would manifest and curdle the air between them. But Jonathan just smiled, oblivious, and told her about his day at work. {endif}

{if janweek5_bbc_status = 2 } She wondered—just for a moment—if he could possibly smell Mr. Bill on her breath or the residue of him on her skin, if some part of her shame would manifest and curdle the air between them. But Jonathan just smiled, oblivious, and told her about his day at work. {endif}

They cooked dinner together—spaghetti and meatballs, the only thing they could both make without ruining it—and Leah forced herself into the rhythm of normality. She opened a bottle of red wine and poured them both generous glasses, listening to Jonathan’s nerdy rants about Star Wars, laughing in all the right places.

After dinner they watched TV, a rerun of The Office. Jonathan curled up behind her on the couch, arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “You’re tense,” he murmured, squeezing her gently. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea,” she said, soft. She let herself lean into him, let him be a buffer against the toxic spill of her real life. He rubbed her shoulders, thumbs kneading the knots with a tenderness that made her insides twist and contract. She wanted to tell him everything—wanted to confess it all and let him save her—but instead she just sat there, silent, letting his warmth pass through her like morphine.

Eventually they went to bed and drifted toward the sweetness of oblivion.