Two weeks later, not much changed. Joe's father's health was still slowly declining and tensions became even higher in the household. Especially with Joe. He would get irrationally angry at small things around the house. Even the smallest inconvenience became too much. One night, he accidentally dropped a glass on the kitchen floor after dinner. I was still sitting at the table with his mom when we heard it hit the floor.
"FUCK!" He screamed out. Virginia had started to get up with a displeased face, but I got up as well. Holding my hand up to her.
"I got it," I whispered. She sat back down and I walked into the kitchen. Joe was holding himself up over the sink. His hands gripping onto the edge of the counter. His knuckles were white from how hard he was holding on. His breathing was rough and heavy and his teeth were gritted. I put my hands up in defense. He had become so sensitive to every word, I knew I had to proceed with caution. "Joe?" I asked softly. I looked down at the floor. There were small pieces of glass everywhere. Neither of us were wearing shoes and he was very close to stepping on it. "Don't move. I'll be right back." I got some shoes on and came back into the kitchen. I grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the glass. Throwing it away in the garbage and cleaning up the microscopic pieces with a wet paper towel. Once it was all cleaned up, I looked back at him. "Everything's going to be okay," I whispered. Snaking my hands around his waist in a hug. I buried my head in his chest as I heard his breathing slow down. His arms coming around to hug me back as he rested his head on top of mine.
He would have moments like that. Times when he would lose control and get irrationally angry. But, all of those moments culminated in one big outburst.
We were sitting in the living room one day. Just watching TV and trying to relax and take our minds off things for a while. Then, Virginia and I start talking. About random things. Life, schooling, college. And then talk of college turned to what I liked to do for fun when I was in college.
"I liked to go to a lot of concerts," I mentioned.
"Oh, that sounds nice." She commented.
"It was. My best friend and I would travel all around the Chicago area and follow a couple of cover bands around. We started to get to know the members. Become friends with them. It was always a blast." I was reminiscing.
"Why did you stop?" she asked.
"Well, she moved to Georgia for a teaching job just after she turned 24. I was about 25. So, we just didn't see each other as much anymore. And even though I still wanted to go to the concerts, it's not the same when you go alone." I paused for a second. "You can't dance as wildly when you're by yourself. People think you're crazy." I laughed. "I loved to dance," I mentioned. I felt Joe's eyes on the back of my head. But, I didn't bother looking at him. "I haven't danced in a long time." I thought about it for a second. I turned toward Joe and grabbed his hand. I stood up and tried to pull him up with me. "Come on, Joey. Let's dance." His eyes narrowed at me. I was just trying to make him happy for a little while. "Come on." I tugged harder. "Dance with me." I was pleading like a child, but he wasn't moving. "I can just pop on some music if that's the problem." I leaned down and grabbed my phone off the couch. Searching through it for some music to play.
All of a sudden, Joe shot up from his seat. His grip on my hand tightened and he began to pull me. He walked toward the stairs. I made a surprised noise when he began to pull. I was still laughing and trying to play off my innocence. Just trying to lighten the mood. I couldn't see his face as we walked. We went up the stairs and into our bedroom. He closed the door after yanking me into the room.
"Ow," I said. Him pulling my arm had hurt slightly, and not in a good way.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. I looked at his eyes. Fire shot across them. I didn't know what to say. I was frozen. "Huh?" he said a little louder and more forcefully. I snapped back to myself.
"I was just trying to lighten the mood a little," I replied. Wringing my hands together and looking down at the floor.
"By asking- hey, look at me,- by asking me to dance in front of my dad?" I looked up at him like he said. He was only getting angrier and I didn't want to poke the bear. "Someone who can barely even walk anymore? Someone who used to be a dancer?" He was getting louder and louder.
"I was just trying to have a little fun. I never meant to do anything-" He cut me off.
"You were just trying to do what? Have fun? Do you think we're here to have fun?" he yelled. It wasn't deafeningly loud, but it was louder than normal.
"No, of course I don't think that," I answered.
"Then what huh? You just think we came out here to do lovey-dovey stuff while my dad is dying?" He was slowly getting closer to me. His arms gesturing wildly as he yelled.
"You know that's not what I think," I was trying to hold it together as best as I could. Deep down, I knew he didn't mean what he was saying, but I couldn't help but be hurt by his words.
"The whole time we've been here, you've done nothing but joke around. Is this a joke to you?" I just shook my head. Knowing that I wouldn't get a word in at this point. "And then you also try to have sex with me while we're here? Do you even care at all about what's happening around you?" he yelled.
"That's not fair," I said. My voice cracking from the tears welling up in my eyes.
"Not fair? Not FAIR? You know what's not fair? The fact that there is a man in a room downstairs who isn't going to live much longer. Someone who has done nothing wrong in his life is going to die a slow and painful death. THAT'S not fair. Don't TALK to me about what isn't fair." Tears began falling down my face now. I took in some deep breaths trying to hold it together. Stealthily wiping them away from my face.
"I'm just trying to help." I croaked out.
"Well, stop trying," he stabbed. "It's not helping anyone. ESPECIALLY him." He turned back toward the door. He stuck his hand out and grabbed the knob before turning back toward me to get in one final blow. "God, you can be such a fucking moron sometimes." He opened the door and left the room.
His words hit me like a bullet. Going straight through my heart. I felt so much pain in my chest all of a sudden. I collapsed to the ground slowly. Laying my head on the bed and leaning my body against the frame. I clutched my hand to my chest as I let my silent sobs take over my body. Convulsing and shaking with every breath. My face became puffy and red. Small screams coming from my mouth. Just quiet enough to not be heard by anyone passing by. I sat there for too long. Just crying. Alone. Completely hurt and broken. I kept telling myself that he didn't mean it. That nothing he said had any weight. But it did. At that moment, it felt like everything he said was real. And he wasn't in here calming me. Telling me he was sorry. Because he wasn't. And I knew I needed to get away. Get out of this house for a while.
I got up from the ground and went into the bathroom. I was in there for 10 minutes. Just splashing cold water on my face and waiting for the puffiness to go down. Once I looked presentable, I went back into the bedroom. Grabbing my purse, wallet, and phone from the side of my bed. I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, but I just couldn't be in this house anymore.
When I finally emerged from the bedroom, I walked down the stairs slowly. Letting Joe see me as I came to the living room. I wanted him to see that he couldn't hurt me. Even though I had just spent the last however many minutes sobbing on the floor. But he didn't need to know that. I made a B-line for Joe's dad. I kneeled down in front of him and placed my hand on top of his.
"I'm gonna go out for a while. I'll see you when I come back." I got up and kissed him on the cheek. I looked over at the clock. 10 AM. 10 AM and I had already cried my eyes out. That must have been a new personal record. I stared over at Joe who wouldn't look at me. He was sat with his arms folded, staring at the TV with a permanent angry look on his face. Like he was ready to punch the next stranger who crossed his path. "Bye," I said to anyone who was listening. I guess it was mainly to Virginia since Joe didn't really seem to care.
I grabbed my jean jacket and left the house. Thankfully, it was a beautiful April spring day outside. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. But my mood didn't match the weather. For once in my life, I wanted it to be gloomy and dull. I walked to the café, knowing that Michelle would listen to me.
----------
"He called you a fucking moron?" She asked, completely shocked and invested in my story. She had brought me to the back of the store into the kitchen area. She had a small table and some chairs by the back door where she would sit and do whatever when the shop was empty. It started to become routine that I would be back here with her. To say we had become fast friends was an understatement.
"Yeah, he did," I replied, looking down at the glass of water in my hands. Tapping my fingers on the edges.
"Well, I'm sure he didn't mean it," she replied.
"Even if he didn't, he said it. That's what matters. He meant it enough to let it out." I looked up at her now.
"What are you gonna do?" she asked. Taking a sip of her hot tea. I shrugged.
"I don't know yet. I just need some time to think. I needed to get out of the house." I bit my lip at the thought of going back there. I couldn't yet. Even though talking with Michelle was like a free therapy session, it wasn't enough. I still wasn't ready.
"Well, even though I love talking to you, you can't stay here all day. I get nothing done when you're here," she replied in a light tone of voice. I chuckled at her joke. She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. "You should go downtown." I raised an eyebrow at her.
"What?" I asked.
"Go downtown. Go see some sights. Maybe visit a museum. I don't know, it's just something to do. Something to get your mind off what's happening." I nodded, thinking about it. We were only about a 30-minute train ride from Times Square. And the entire time I had been here, I hadn't gone into the city.
"Maybe I will," I answered. I grabbed my phone to look at the time.
"Oh, and you probably want to turn that off," she said.
"You think so?" I asked.
"Yeah. Just in case you have an inkling to call and apologize to make things better. You don't need to apologize. Am I clear?" she asked. I nodded. "Good. So, if you turn off your phone, it will give you a couple of seconds to think about why you're turning it back on. Maybe you'll stop whatever you were going to do. It might help you in the long run." I had thought about turning off my phone, but now I was convinced.
"Ok," I responded. "Thanks."
"No problem," she said.
"I guess I'm off to the city," I gave her a sheepish smile. Racking my brain of all the things I could do once I was down there. And for the first time in a month, I had put my own happiness and fun over someone else.