Chills

five

It's like I don't even exist to him anymore. I curl my fingers around my now cold mug of tea. I sneak a peek towards Robby who has decided to work on the kitchen table instead of in his office for once.

His messy just-rolled-out-of-bed curly hair bounces whenever he jots something down and I always catch the little grin that appears on his lips. I wish he'd smile at me like that. I wish he'd look my way.

I clear my throat in hope to catch his attention. He doesn't even look up. He just scrunches up his nose as if annoyed I just made a noise when he's obviously working.

He's sitting exactly where the weak, November sun is shining and sometimes when he lifts his head enough I can see the light reflected in his eyes. Robby has a weird eye colour and it's so cool because when the weather changes, so do his eyes.

In the summer, his eyes turn a dark green with flecks of brown here and there. When the sun hits his irises, the brown turns hazel and the green lightens. In the winter, he has dark brown eyes and in the sun, they turn gold.

It's so breathtakingly beautiful that every time I see the gold in his eyes, I just stop breathing. My brain forgets how to suck in oxygen and blow out carbon dioxide.

Usually I just eat breakfast by myself and I stare at the tiled backsplash from a high chair at the bar. I sip my herbal tea and sometimes I get the chance to see Robby's back as he quickly comes down to pour himself another cup of that gross coffee he manages to down. He's usually in his gray robe with his matching slippers. He never turns my way when he turns around to head back up to his office and that breaks me a little every day.

This morning when he came down I thought he was going to have breakfast with me so I had gotten a bit excited and I was about to say good morning when I noticed the papers under his arm. My lips immediately sealed and I watched him set up station on the table a few meters away from me. His coffee was already brewing so he just had to take his mug from the dishwasher and pour himself some before spinning on his heels and heading back to the table without even a glance in my direction.

Suddenly, he slams his pen down, scowling, then jumps up and grabs the papers he's been writing on for the past hour. I think maybe he's done but he wouldn't have that angry look on his face if he was. Robby glares at the papers as if they had insulted him and he shreds them in half.

My jaw drops and my eyebrows shoot up. Robby huffs angrily and continues to rip up his work. Since he hasn't shaved in days and he currently looks like a savage, I get a mental image of an ape playing with papers and ripping them since it has no idea what it's for.

"Robby--!" My voice comes out high-pitched and I feel like punching myself.

Robby spins in my direction, dropping his papers to the floor and looking at me like a maniac. I notice his beard is longer on one side and that hair doesn't grow on his lower left cheek. His hands are balled into fists and it looks like he's actually waiting for me to say something. I don't let this opportunity slip away.

"Why did you rip it up?" I gesture to the floor. I'm probably going to have to clean that up. "I'm sure it was great."

The scowl drops from his face when the last word comes out of my mouth. He almost looks confused. Then just as quick, he combs his fingers through his curls exasperated and annoyed.

"Great?" he roars. "I don't want it to be great. I'm trying to be the best there ever was. I'm aiming for perfection. God, Eveline!"

I physically flinch when he spits my name out. It bothers me that he isn't calling me by my nickname. After all, he's been calling me Ivree since we first met. He used to only reserve my real name from when he was frustrated, which was rare, or when he wanted to annoy me. He was using it more often these days and I wasn't sure what to make out of it.

Of course I wasn't going to confront him about it. Especially since he's so irritated at the moment. I bow my head in shame, unable to look him in his beautiful chocolate eyes.

I hear him plop back down on the chair he had shoved aside. I lift my head slightly so I can kind of see him. Robby crosses his arms over his chest and he pushes his lower lip farther than the top so he that he's pouting like a child. His cheeks are scarlet and his eyebrows are knit together in anger and frustration.

"Robby--"

"Shut up," he mutters, instantly making me close my mouth.

When did he become so rude? I mean I know why but he can't still be holding that grudge. It's been two years and a half. I've managed to push past it and I was by myself. Why can't he just forget it and get on with his life. I was in pain, too. He can't just selfishly claim both of our pains combined.

Sadness washes over me. Okay maybe I'm still not over it but at least I'm being mature about this. It happens to many people not just us.

I watch Robby pick up his pen and observe it for a while. He then finds some tooth marks on the shirt-holder part and puts his mouth on it. He chews into the plastic and twists and bends it in every direction. His eyes fix a space on the wall and I notice that they've glazed over.

When will he let me back into his life? When will he stop pushing me away? I can hug all the hurt away if he lets me. I could help him heal.

Obviously, I can't just openly suggest it to him. We haven't talked about it since it happened and I feel like I might break inside if we ever did talk about it. I prefer to keep it bottled inside me and hope that it doesn't explode in my face.

For the rest of the day, he stares at that white wall with a blank expression. I make him food and give him water while trying not to disturb him. I know he's thinking about it and he'll get irritated if I interrupt his thoughts. He doesn't consume anything all day except if you count that cup of coffee this morning. He's beating himself up when it isn't even his fault. It's not even my fault. He has to understand that it's neither of our faults and that these things happen.

At the end of the day, I find him lying on the couch, fast asleep. I frown. I fetch him a blanket and cover him.

I guess this means he's not sleeping with me tonight either.