Fighting for the Fairytale

Cole

I knew I was being an asshole. I just didn't know how to stop.

After everything that had happened my first day at the internship I had wanted with everything in me, I was disappointed. 

I had cleaned. I had opened boxes and unpacked, just like I had all fucking weekend.

This was supposed to be my shot. My proof for all of Dad's shitty commentary on my career choices, my ticket out of a manual labor job. My dream.

I've wanted to be involved in the music scene since it helped me. I wanted to be a part of that.

Instead, all I did was janitorial duties. 

I was a failure. 

Dinner was silent except for forks scraping against plates and a baseball game buzzing from the TV. I stared blankly at the screen behind Nora, too focused in my own depression to fully comprehend what my eyes were seeing. 

It couldn't have been more than five minutes before Nora stood up, bringing her practically clean cup, plate, and utensils to the kitchen sink. She ran the water, cleaning each dish methodically before placing them on the drying rack. 

Quietly, she passed by me, walked up the stairs, and into one of the upstairs bedrooms, closing the door with a snick.

Shit.

I pushed my plate away, my favorite meal no longer appetizing. 

What the hell am I doing?

Being an asshole. It runs in the family, you know.

Shut the fuck up.

Hey, you're the one who got yourself into this mess. You fix it.

I lowered my head to the table and stacked it on my hands. I don't know how to fix it. I'm a failure. 

No, but you are the spitting image of Dad.

At that thought, my head snapped up. 

Son of a bitch. I am, aren't I? Dad pulled this same shit with Mom. Blaming her for everything, even when things weren't her fault. I did that to Nora just now. What the fuck is wrong with you?'

Disheartened, I slouched down in my chair. God, how can I fix this?

I looked around. The kitchen was a mess except for Nora's clean dishes.

I'll clean the kitchen, I decided, nodding to myself. I'll clean the kitchen. Give Nora some time before going to apologize. Maybe I'll even grovel. They do that in romance novels, right?

Nora loved romance novels. I saw her reading them all the time when we were dating, and she always talked about how the love interests would have a period of time apart before coming back together, their love stronger.

Would our love get stronger?

Only one way to find out.

Right. 

Pulling up my sleeves, I rounded up all the dishes, washing them by hand because Nora had already washed hers and there certainly wasn't enough to run the dishwasher. 

Should probably run it tomorrow, though. Don't want it to get moldy or something. 

Making a mental note to run the dishwasher tomorrow, I finished the dishes, wiped down the counters, and even dried the dishes, putting them in their respective cupboards before heading upstairs to apologize to Nora.