So, I didn’t mean to disappear. I didn’t really disappear at all, I was always here in the odd phone call, a random text, Facebook status update, or sometimes by showing up on your doorstep late on a Sunday with two bags of dirty clothes and no toothbrush.
I’d started to live by the edict of “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing” except my version was “If you can’t say something that won’t worry your mother, say nothing”. And I had nothing to say that wouldn’t worry my mother, so I said nothing.
And, well, there was a lot of pressure here at home, a lot of stress. We weren’t communicating as we should. I injured my back, felt uncomforted, he felt deep stress and anxiety and felt uncomforted. Some yelling. Some leaving. I literally took a bag of clean clothes, a bag of dirty clothes and my laptop and took off for my parents’ house. The dogs were so wigged out they literally wouldn’t leave the back yard.
At mom and dad’s, things were good. Low drama. Low stress. Just being near (most of) the people who love me best, talking, watching cable TV. But I couldn’t stay forever so I left a few days later and came back home to Cheesecake City. And we talked. Not tons, but we talked. And things were so much better. We’re so much happier. We hold hands. We laugh. We take care of each other.