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Breakfast that morning was a horrible affair. Dinner that night wasn’t any better. And the final straw was the night after Trina’s day of ironic reminiscing and Marvin’s day of retrospective mock of a reverie.
Breakfast.
“Pass the sugar, please,” Trina had said, her face dour and sad. She tells him about her dream. About China. And asking about his parents. And the heart of matter appears. Jason is still in bed. It is Saturday. He gets to sleep in.
“Hold him. Hold me, too. But stay.”
Marvin pauses but soon speaks back. To get them back on subject. To try to tell her he’s leaving but not quite but definitely doing so.
Their breakfast is a gloomy affair. Their days unravel much like their sanity.
Dinner.
Trina has decided to fix dinner to be perfect. She wants Jason to have hope, despite the fact his faith has already been shattered. His heart is already shielded from the attempts of affection from his mother. He sees them as empty. He watches her drink her wine in private and cry as the television blares to drown out the choking sobs. He shields himself from the heart to hearts of his father. He doesn’t want Marvin to infect him. He doesn’t want the crushing, controlling personality and the need for everything. Everything to be perfect. Everything to be his.
The dinner is nice. Simple. Chicken. Vegetables. Jason eats and excuses himself.
Marvin doesn’t touch his food once the kid leaves the table. He just looks at his wife with a sort of pity. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his apology. She wanted his faithfulness. She wanted his love.
She didn’t mean to fall in love. It happened. She just wanted to love and not be blamed. But here he was. And he didn’t want to take responsibility for his role in fracturing the glass of their family portrait. The protective layer of the photograph against the world.
“I’m leaving, Trina.” He says her name deliberately.
She puts down her fork and knife. She watched him. He pauses. She stops. She frowns and tries to compose herself.
“I’m leaving you.”
She doesn’t want him to go on.
“Stop crying, please.”
She doesn’t realize the tears are streaming down her face.
“Trina, please.”
She doesn’t realize she’s left the room until she’s buried her face in the pillows of the bed. She wants to sleep. He comes in to see her. She feigns her slumber. And he gives her time.
Night.
They just needed to survive this night. But Trina was wide awake, staring at the moon through the blinds. Marvin’s back was to her. She was surprised he climbed into their bed at all. But this was his house. And he was the one with the right to the bed.
“I’m leaving you,” he whispered, and she realizes he’s awake.
“I know,” she whispers back. A quiet acknowledgment. Her face contorts as she lets out silent sobs. He could probably hear her. But he didn’t care.
“I’ll pack my bags. You and Jason keep the house. He’ll need all the stability he can get.”
Trina shifts in bed. Hurt. Upset. This was not how it should go. They should not be divorcing. But he wanted Whizzer Brown. And Trina just wanted a break.
He shifts this time, and the bed feels uneasy. Uneven. It isn’t them holding each other, though Marvin never seemed to be a fan. It was them with the empty blankets and sheets between them. She didn’t even want to be sensual with him. She just wanted him to prove she was still there.