Work Text:
Bob weighs the consequences of skipping town and avoiding the issue altogether.
If he packs quickly, he could probably be gone by nightfall. He’d have to find a new job, of course, and his roommate would hate him for bailing on the lease, but at least he’d get out of having this painful talk with Linda.
No. That wouldn’t be fair to her. He’s already wasted a year and a half of her time, and the least he owes her is an explanation. He stares at his dashboard, regretting it immediately when he sees the items scattered there.
Linda’s sunglasses, which she left behind after dragging him to the beach. Beside the glasses is a sheet of lab results from weeks earlier, when he’d picked her up from a check up.
His heart clenches unexpectedly. He’s always felt weirdly lucky to be the person Linda relies on for simple, every day favors, and he hates knowing that she’ll never inconvenience him again. Picturing another man giving her rides when her car is in the shop, he fights off a wave of nausea.
As he pulls into his usual parking spot in her apartment complex, he considers backing out and faking an illness. He could put this off until tomorrow, right? Live one more day postponing the inevitable?
No. That might work if he was dating someone else, but Linda would rush to his side and tend to him. She’d want to stick a thermometer down his throat and prepare soup. She’s caring and maternal, which is a key piece of the larger issue.
Bob doesn’t deserve her. He’s a failure, and he’s unattractive, and he and his baggage are holding her back. He has to break up with her. If he doesn’t, she’s just going to end up divorcing him one day, when they’re completely broke and she realizes what a terrible mistake she’s made.
He would rather tear this bandaid off now. Even though it hurts, and he’s terrified, and he already plans on calling out of work tomorrow to cry. Ending things now is better than dragging Linda down with him, spending the next few years in a perpetual state of dread.
He puts his car in park. His legs feel wobbly, and his heart threatens to fall into his stomach as he climbs the stairs to Linda’s apartment. Seeing the summery, floral wreath at her entrance gives him another urge to turn and run. It’s a cheap, flimsy thing, but it’s so her . He tries to memorize it, as he knocks on the door. Linda’s feet patter excitedly to greet him.
“Bobby, hi!” She says, swinging the door wide open. “What’s with the knocking, hon? So formal!”
She swoops in for a kiss, not noticing when his eyes remain open. Familiar things like kissing and inviting himself in feel all wrong now.
“Hi.” He says stiffly. “Can we talk?”
She eyes him, confused, stepping to the side to usher him in.
“Well, sure we can talk!” She says.
“We can talk all night, if you want. You okay with pizza for dinner? I think I’ll die, if I don’t eat something greasy.”
Bob nods without thinking, then shakes his head. He doesn’t trust himself to keep down any food right now, least of all something so rich, and he also doesn’t plan on staying for long.
“Uh…actually, no.” He says.
Linda frowns.
“What? How come? I thought you liked the place with the garlic knots!”
More than anything, he wants to tell her that he does. He wants to forget about his decision altogether and pretend that everything is normal.
“I’m not staying for dinner.” He says quickly.
Linda’s frown deepens.
“What?” She asks glumly. “I thought we were having a slumber party!”
They spend the night together more often than not at this point, but the frequency has yet to take the magic away for Linda. Bob shakes his head.
“No. I—Linda, this isn’t working.”
Various emotions take turns occupying her face. Confusion, anxiety, then anger.
“Don’t even try this right now, Bob.” She glares. “I’ve had a long day, and—“
“Lin, listen. I don’t think this—us—is a good idea. You deserve better.”
He’d expected Linda to be sad when he told her, but he figures she’ll soon come to be grateful for his decision. Maybe three years down the line, when she’s married to some hot and successful guy and Bob is still floundering hopelessly. What he hadn’t anticipated in any of the several times he ran this scenario through his head, was the fierce anger now lining her face.
“Why do you think I’m too dumb to decide this for myself?” She demands.
“I…I don’t.” Bob says, flustered. “You aren’t. I know we love each other, but—“
“Yes.” Linda interrupts. “We love each other. We want to be together. End of story. Now what kind of pizza do you want?”
Bob shakes his head again, his heartbreak growing more severe by the second. It takes all of his strength not to give in, but he wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t convinced it was for the best.
“No.” He says weakly, embarrassingly close to tears. “I—I’m sorry. No. I just want you to be ha—“
“I am happy!” Linda snaps. “You make me happy. What are you not getting?”
Bob sighs. He thinks of his future, his tenuous dreams, and determines again that he loves Linda too much to pull her down with him.
“You might be happy now,” he says carefully. “but you won’t be when we’re married, and we can’t pay rent because your husband’s restaurant is a failure.”
He should’ve gone to college. He should’ve had a back up plan, but he doesn’t, and now he has to let the love of his life go. Linda scowls.
“Don’t you think that’s up to me to decide, Bob?” She asks. “I want to be with you. Even if we’re poor. Even if we live in a box! Stop trying to tell me what I want.”
Bob’s never encountered this kind of loyalty in his life, and it frustrates him that Linda won’t allow herself to be pushed away.
“I don’t want to be the reason that you’re living in a box!” He says, encroaching on anger now himself. “I don’t…I don’t deserve you.”
That’s what it comes down to. He waits, expecting Linda to tell him he’s wrong, but she says nothing. When she finally stops arguing, it grants Bob none of the relief he’s seeking. Her face goes colder than he’s ever seen it, and that scares him enough that he almost regrets his decision.
“Fine.” She says, before he can take anything back. “If that’s what you want, then just go.”
She’s done talking now, not willing to beg him any more, and she’s gesturing for him to walk out the door.
So, he does.
The second Linda is left alone, she does the only thing she can think to do. Making her way toward the landline phone set up near the couch, she punches in one of the three numbers she knows by heart. Bob’s number used to be counted among that few, but she guesses she’ll have to discard that knowledge now.
By the time Ginger’s voicemail kicks in, Linda’s already accepted that she’s not home to get the phone. She’s probably out with her own boyfriend, who isn’t making the both of them suffer in a reckless act of self sabotage.
“Hi hon.” Linda says into the receiver, immediately hearing her voice waiver.
“Call me back when you get a chance, okay? I might need your help hiding a body. Just kidding! Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. Love you, kid. Just…give me a call.”
She hopes her message strikes a good balance between vaguely concerning but not totally unnerving. It took Ginger a month or so to warm up to Bob in the first place, and this is going to knock him back down a few pegs.
Linda groans, recollecting the stupid, pathetic look on his face when he left. Bob can be so frustrating sometimes. She glares at the phone, waiting for a ring from him to startle her.
Because he’s going to call. She knows this for a fact. He’s going to come back, and that’s the part of all of this that’s making her the most furious.
Linda believes in love. Above anything else, she believes that love will prevail under even the most dire circumstances. She knows Bob loves her, and he’ll recognize his mistake soon. If it takes doing something idiotic to recognize that he needs her, then so be it.
Her first stop is to the bathroom, where she splashes cold water on her face in a vain bid for relief. The cold can’t shock her system more than Bob already did, and the wires in her brain are left crossed and confused. His spare toothbrush sits balanced next to hers in the corner of the counter, and Linda bats it angrily into the sink.
“Stupid Bob.” She grumbles through clenched teeth. “Breaking up with me, leaving all your dumb stuff here.”
She takes some comfort in knowing that Bob is going through the same thing, because he’s going home to a room covered in her bras, lotions, and perfumes.
It’s especially hard to take her mind off of Bob, when Linda’s living space is filled with reminders of him. Of them. When she ventures to the kitchen in search of wine, the first thing she sees is a Polaroid she stuck to the fridge after a date to the aquarium.
Bob complained about the idea, claimed it was a waste of money, then promptly fell in love with the first dolphin that looked at him. In the picture, he stares through the glass looking enamored. If Linda was less sentimental, she would tear it into pieces.
“Ugh. I bet you wouldn’t break up with that dolphin, would ya?” She mutters bitterly, glowering at the photo.
Tearing open the pantry door, Linda is grateful at least for the weekend trip her roommate is away on. The solitude grants her space to mourn in private, where she can comb through all of the comfort food in the house with reckless abandon.
A thought stops her in her tracks, making her blood go cold. Had Bob planned it that way? How long has he known he was going to do this?
“No.” Linda says sternly, out loud to herself. “Don’t even go there right now.”
If she lets herself follow every dark path her brain provides, she’s going to spiral even more than she already is. She snatches a family size bag of chips, ripping open the package like it’s the thing she’s angry at.
She scans the rest of the pantry, looking for anything that’ll send her into a diabetic coma. Her eyes land on an unopened pack of chocolate snack cakes, and she stuffs it underneath one of her arms.
“Yep. You’re comin’ with me.”
Salt and sugar are definitely a start, but Linda knows what she really needs is alcohol. Times like this are the reason she keeps an emergency supply of wine on deck at all times. Before searching for the half-full bottle in the fridge, she spots an even better option on the pantry’s highest shelf.
A perfectly full, pristine bottle of red wine. She and Bob had made the mutual decision to splurge on it, agreeing it would be opened during their next romantic dinner. Vengefully, Linda grabs the neck of the bottle and adds it to her growing collection of vices.
With snacks tucked under each arm, she undertakes the task of uncorking the bottle and pouring a hefty amount into her favorite glass. When it splashes, sloshing onto her shirt, she doesn’t bother scrubbing away the stain.
Making her way over to the sofa, she begins a painful oscillation: she wants to talk to someone, then she wants to be alone. She considers calling Ginger again, but Linda doesn’t think she can bear to describe her current problem.
The wine, good as it is, does little to remedy the conflict going on in her head. She closes her eyes, tries to lose herself in the taste, and grows angry with Bob for ruining her favorite simple pleasure.
The phone taunts her, dangling comfort she isn’t sure she wants. If she calls Ginger again, she’ll only feel guilty for interrupting the date she’s obviously having. She should be able to rely on her sister in times like these, but Gayle would find a way to spin Linda’s heartbreak to be about her. Somehow.
She slouches low into the couch cushions, sinking as far back as she’ll go, and reaches for the phone. She decides to call someone who’s never let her down.
“Hi.” She says glumly, when the pizza place picks up. “I’d like a large pepperoni, please. Extra pepperoni.”
Shutting himself in his bedroom, Bob imagines this is what being on death row feels like. Locked in solitary confinement, kept away from the sunlight. This comparison does not feel dramatic.
Linda’s clothes, strewn across his floor, only contribute to his heartbreak. One of her faded, gray bras is lying at the foot of his bed, and he has to push away the thought of gathering all of her belongings together to be returned at a later date.
Somehow, the anger she received him with had thrown him off balance. He’s accustomed to her warmth by now, and watching it retreat was unnerving.
He’s still unnerved. This must be what shock feels like, he thinks. His brain understands that he and Linda have just broken up, and the rest of his body is still struggling to catch up.
The sun sets after a while, but Bob stays frozen still on his bed. Appetite gone completely, getting up to prepare dinner doesn’t even occur to him.
He just wallows, his stomach turning, agonizing over whether he did the right thing.
“Lin, just sleep with someone else!” Ginger says nonchalantly, once Linda’s relayed the entire story.
Linda snorts. Easy for her to say. She imagines Ginger is perched on her couch, holding the phone in place on her shoulder and applying electric red polish to her toenails.
“I don’t think so, hon.”
“How come? Does Bob have a brother? Sleep with his brother!”
Linda laughs for the first time all night.
“He doesn’t, but I wouldn’t even if he did. I don’t wanna sleep with anybody else! I just want my Bobby. You know that.”
Ginger makes a disparaging noise, somewhere between a scoff and a gag.
“Well, he’s on my bad side now.” She says solemnly. “Who the hell does he think he is, breaking up with you?”
Ginger has all of Linda’s righteous anger and none of her crushing sadness, so she’s able to rag on Bob without experiencing an ounce of guilt. Admittedly, listening to her is cathartic.
“He thinks he’s protecting me or something.” She explains, rolling her eyes. “He thinks I’m settling.”
“You are settling!” Ginger screeches on the other end of the line. “Did I not say that, when you first met? You’re so out of his league it’s ridiculous.”
Linda laughs again, feeling a touch lighter.
“You stop it. It’s not Bob’s fault you don’t like facial hair!”
Ginger chuckles briefly, before Linda hears her tone turn humorless.
“Seriously, Lin. Do you need me to come over there? I know how crazy you are about him.”
The words cut like a dagger, reminding Linda how terrible she feels. This isn’t just some guy she’s crying over. This is the guy. The one she wanted—wants—to marry. And who she still fully intends on marrying, once he gets his act together and apologizes.
“I think I just wanna be alone right now.” She says, looking forlornly at her front door. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll come crawling back any minute.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Ginger says. “You think he’s crying right now?”
Linda chuckles, even though doing so makes her feel a little mean.
“Like a baby.” She says knowingly, picking off a pepperoni and popping it in her mouth.
Bob hasn’t cried this much, since he was an angsty teenager. The scent of Linda’s lotion fills his nose, its potency exaggerated by how much he wishes she were with him, and he lies on his bed hoping to memorize it.
He thinks he may have made the biggest mistake of his life. He’s not going to see Linda tomorrow, or the next day, and he’s never going to kiss her again. All of this creates a black hole in his chest, crippling him in a way heartache never has before.
It’s actually hard to remember what other break ups felt like. Sad for a day or two, and then he’d start remembering the good parts of being single. This particular chasm is entirely new, and its seeming endlessness has him gripped with fear.
“Oh my God.” He says to himself, the implications of his choice starting to hit him.
To get through bad days, he usually focuses on Linda. He thinks about the next time he gets to see her, and what silly things she’ll say to make him feel better. What tactic does he have now? In all likelihood, the next time he sees Linda will be when he brings back her things.
Another bolt of grief knocks the wind out of his lungs. She’s the best thing in his life, no contest, and he just ruined everything they have. The permanence is daunting, searing into him in fresh waves every few moments.
This is it now. This is his life. Until the day he dies, he’ll be stuck in a cycle of sleep, work, and self loathing. The brightest spot he had, his biggest source of relief, is gone. Because he thought he was being a martyr by breaking up with her.
“Oh my God.” He repeats, his breathing ragged. “Am I an idiot?”
Trying to picture what his future looks like now, with Linda cut out of it, is turning out to be impossible. In every iteration of what he could become, a distinct loneliness oozes from the image.
What if he does open a restaurant, but now he’s doing it alone? Or what if he marries someone else, and that person doesn’t drive him crazy with constant singing? His goal had been to stop Linda from circling the drain with him, but what he hadn’t considered was how dull his life would feel without her. How hopeless.
Her voice rings in his head. She wants to be with him. She loves him, and he screwed that up. What’s his problem with being happy? The universe gave him real, genuine love, and he let his stupid cynicism demolish it.
“Damn it.” He mutters, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep for the next several hours.
No. That’s the belly-up, white flag mentality that got him into this. He bolts into an upright position, taking in a shaky breath of air. The damage he’s done needs to be reversed, and that can’t happen if he gives up again.
Climbing out of bed and slipping into his shoes, he resolves to fix things between he and Linda.
Bob taps his foot impatiently, as he waits for Linda to come to the door. To his surprise, she doesn’t look shocked by his arrival. She just rolls her eyes, disgusted, when the door swings open.
“What do you want?”
He’s never heard her speak so bitingly before, and the harsh demeanor feels unnatural. Staring at the wall behind her, he steels himself to speak.
“Hi.” He says finally. “Can I come in?”
At the question, a glimpse of Linda’s compassion surfaces. A slight shift in her face tells Bob that beneath her anger, there’s a distinct layer of hurt.
“Fine.” She says, moving out of the way to let him in.
Just by looking at her, it’s evident that Linda’s had as bad a night as he did. Her eyes, red from crying, are puffy and swollen.
“You’re wearing your bad pants.” He says, looking pointedly at her torn, pink sweatpants.
She only wears these when she’s sick, because they’re ancient and visibly worn. A stain that looks like coffee sits above her right knee.
“That’s what happens, when your boyfriend dumps you outta nowhere.” She says dryly. “If you came to get your stuff, you’ll have to look around yourself.”
She crosses her arms protectively over her chest, and Bob hates the awkwardness now settling between them. It’s the first time ever, since the day he met her, that talking to her has felt awkward.
“No.” He says. “I just came over to talk. About…things. And to say I’m sorry.”
Linda puts a hand on her hip, a scathing look on her face.
“Finally came to your senses, huh?”
Bob blinks. He’s getting the feeling that Linda is a few steps ahead of him, and this is confusing considering he’s the one who initiated all of this.
“Uh…sorry? What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Linda says forcefully, “you finally came to your senses about us. You figured out that it doesn’t get any better than what you and I have.”
Bob swallows thickly, feeling stupider by the minute. It’s as if a cloud is clearing, and he’s now seeing things the way they actually are. The person who broke up with Linda feels like an entirely separate, much less perceptive entity.
“It doesn’t.” He agrees. “I still think you could do better, but—“
“Bob!” Linda says sharply. “Will you quit it with that? Stop. I don’t want anyone else.”
He lets that sink in, even when his instincts tell him to deny it. He trusts Linda, so if she’s telling him this with so much confidence then it must be true.
“Neither do I.” He says. “I guess I just…got scared. That I would lose you. So, I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.”
Linda glowers, all sympathy absent from her face.
“Well, you aren’t going to lose me.” She says sternly.
Standing back, she crosses her arms.
“Unless you pull a stunt like that again. You hear me? No more break ups, Bob! I’m serious. I have a one break up policy.”
“I—“
“And I changed that rule for you, by the way, so you’re welcome.”
Bob nods. Her anger is palpable, but he’s no longer being torn apart by fear that he’s lost her for good.
“I know.” He says, already finding it easier to breathe. “Thank you. I don’t plan on doing that again. I’m not going to. It was stupid. Really stupid.”
“No.” Linda says seriously. “It was the stupidest thing that anyone has ever done. Ever!”
So he doesn’t remark on her dramatics, Bob bites his tongue.
“Right.” He says, matching her grave tone. “It’s definitely up there.”
There’s silence again, and Bob wishes they could go back to the previous night. He would ask for sausage on his pizza, and fall asleep in bed next to Linda, and they’d never break up. Even for twelve hours.
“What…now?” He says, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
This is different from a normal fight not only because of the break-up, but because the whole of the blame lies squarely on his shoulders. Linda shouldn’t have to do any of the heavy lifting now, when she hadn’t wanted this to happen in the first place.
“I need a hug.” She says matter-of-factly. “From you. But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, alright?”
Bob is more than happy to open his arms. He figures Linda will be smarting for at least a few days, and he’s just grateful to have gotten a second chance at all. She takes a deep breath, burying her face into his chest, and he’s pretty certain she’s trying to fend off tears.
“You can be mad at me as long as you want.” He says gently. “Are you hungry? I could make us something.”
What he thinks will be an acceptable olive branch seems to ignite a new rage in Linda, who pokes a finger into his chest as she disentangles from the hug.
“Oh, yeah! You know I couldn’t eat my pizza because of you?” She says. “You had my stomach all twisted up!”
He frowns sympathetically. It takes a lot to steer Linda away from her favorite foods.
“I’m sorry.” He says honestly. “But…it seems like you knew I’d regret it. You didn’t think we were…done done, right?”
Linda sighs, and he notices the dark bags of exhaustion underneath her eyes.
“That didn’t make it hurt any less, Bob.” She says harshly. “I was still a mess.”
The words have weight when they hit him, and he could almost stumble back at their force. Caught up in his own, he’d almost forgotten the pain he caused her. The realization comes with a flash of shame.
“I couldn’t eat, either.” He admits, shifting the subject slightly. “I couldn’t even get out of bed.”
Linda’s face twists in sympathy, before she catches herself and trains it into a glare instead.
“You brought that on yourself, mister. I’m glad you had a bad night! Maybe that’ll teach you not to dump me willy nilly.”
Bob risks making her angrier by taking her hand, but the gesture pays off when she doesn’t yank it away.
“It did.” He says, hoping she understands how much he means it. “I don’t want us to be broken up ever again.”
One night apart from Linda was enough to teach him that he can’t live without her, no matter how bad he feels about dragging her into his possibly dim future.
“We better not be.” She snarks. “You drive me crazy sometimes, Bob! Where were you gonna find someone else to put up with you?”
The hint of teasing in her voice, still mostly obscured by anger, tells Bob that things are going to be okay. Linda flounces backward onto the couch, narrowly missing a pile of crumbs.
“I want waffles.” She announces, curling herself around a throw pillow. “Ignore the mess in the kitchen, you aren’t allowed to judge me right now.”
“Trust me, I’m not. I wish I’d thought of getting drunk.”
He frowns, surveying the appliances around her kitchen.
“You don’t have a waffle maker, do you?”
Linda’s eyebrows shoot up defiantly, disappearing beneath her bangs.
“You dumped me, Bob! Figure it out!”
He winces at her volume, nodding in surrender.
“Yup. Got it. I will…figure it out. Somehow. Chocolate chips?”
“And syrup. Lots of syrup. And whipped cream! And make yours first, so mine will be prettier.”
Bob just nods at all of her demands. With a good portion of his anxiety now gone, his stomach is suddenly a bottomless pit. He hasn’t eaten since lunchtime the day before, a choice only now catching up with him.
“I can do that.” He says. “How about eggs? You want some?”
“Scrambled, please. You okay if I hop in the shower, while you cook? I think I smell like cold pizza.”
Bob had picked up on that when he first walked in, but there was no way he was going to push his luck by being the one to bring it up first.
“And wine.” He adds now.
“Oh, that reminds me. Don’t ask about that merlot we bought, because I got sole custody. Sorry.”
Bob shrugs. She could’ve gotten her revenge in more diabolical ways, and they have the rest of their lives to buy replacement bottles of wine.
“That’s okay. Thanks for not breaking my stuff, by the way. I realized I left my watch here.”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider it, Bob! I wanted to put that thing in the blender. Or sell it, but I don’t think it’s worth much.”
“It’s not. Have a nice shower okay? The food should be ready, by the time you come out.”
Linda stands, starts to leave, and pauses again. Bob expects to be chastised, but she surprises him by pressing their lips together instead. She tastes like alcohol, and her hair is visibly greasy, but he closes his eyes and relishes all three seconds of the kiss.
“I’m still mad at you.” She clarifies, when she pulls away. “I just missed getting tickled by your mustache.”
Pretending he doesn’t see the smile threatening to cross onto her own lips, Bob smirks.
“Understood.” He says. “I love you, Lin. I’ll give you extra chocolate chips.”
“Mmhm. Bye. I love you.”
She doesn’t kiss him again, but she lingers in the kitchen doorway before she walks away. As Bob begins combing the kitchen for ingredients, he’s fully aware of how lucky he is.
He’ll never forget that again.
“Bob. Bobby. Bob.”
He turns to face his wife, half asleep. He’s in bed, the ceiling fan whirring over ahead and Linda hissing into his ear.
“Bobby. Bobby. Hey. Wake up.”
He groans, before he even opens his eyes. He can somehow already detect that it’s the middle of the night, way too early for his fitful sleep to be disrupted. Splaying a palm across his face, he tries to anticipate what Linda’s waking him up for.
“Bob, come on.” She says with more agitation. “Don’t ignore me, I wanna talk to you!”
He sighs, finally removing his hand and shifting to face her. He expects she had a funny dream that can’t wait until morning to be shared, and she’s going to keep him up for the next half an hour with her rambling.
“Yes, Lin? What is it?” He asks impatiently.
She hoists herself into a sitting position, a feat Bob considers impossible in his current state of exhaustion, forcing him to crane his neck to look up.
“Oh, I was just thinking…” She says, trailing off as she looks up coyly toward the ceiling.
“Oh, God. Thinking what? Don’t tell me you’re craving peaches and tuna again.”
She hasn’t woken him up for food related reasons since before Louise was born, but Bob’s still traumatized by three pregnancies spent being shaken awake and begged to prepare disgusting food combinations. Linda’s eyes light up at the memory.
“Ooh!” She says, instantly distracted. “That does sound good. Maybe—wait, wait. No. That’s not why I woke you up.”
By the way she pauses, Bob can tell she doesn’t intend to make this easy on him. He exhales, resigning himself to losing sleep for the sake of playing his wife’s guessing game.
“Okay.” He says shortly. “Then why are you waking me up? You remembered a story from when the kids were little?”
Linda’s done this a few times, since they became empty nesters: she’ll shake him awake, teary-eyed, because she suddenly remembered some minor, sort of cute incident from the kids’ childhood. This usually triggers an argument of some kind (which kid this actually happened to or what year the event occurred), and they end up reminiscing until they both pass out again.
“Nope.” Linda says. “I did remember something, but it’s not about the kids. Try again, Bob.”
With this, she plunges the final nail into his coffin. There’s no longer any hope of getting back to sleep, and he may as well immerse himself fully in the conversation. Steadying his body on one of Linda’s calves, he pushes himself up until he’s sitting beside her. When he does it, there’s significantly more grunting involved.
“Gross! Is that a new sound?” Linda asks. “You’re so old.”
“ You’re old.” He shoots back quickly. “I give up. What did you remember?”
She stares, the ghost of a grin playing on her lips, and Bob suspects she’s enjoying every minute of this.
“Wellllll….” She says, dragging out the word to build suspense.
By now, Bob’s annoyance has mostly been replaced by budding curiosity, and he nods to indicate that she should continue. She leans in, but not having glasses on limits her depth perception. Their noses bump against each other.
“Ow. Lin, knock it off. Just tell me.”
She takes a deep, dramatic breath before speaking.
“Remember when you dumped me?”
Bob wishes he had just gone back to sleep.
“Oh, my God. Linda, that was thirty yea—“
“Thirty years ago today .” Linda cuts him off. “Yup. It’s quite the anniversary, Bob. Didja get me a card?”
Memory of the twelve hour break up has grown foggy for Bob, who tries his best to forget it, but it’s obviously still sharp and painful for Linda.
“You’re insane.” He accuses. “Do you keep track of every fight we’ve ever been in?”
She shakes her head.
“Nope. Just the one where you almost lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you! Marked it on the calendar and everything.”
She could be joking, but Bob isn’t organized enough to fit calendar checking into his schedule. It may very well be written there in red ink, displaying his shame for anyone who comes into the kitchen.
“You’re insane.” He repeats. “Call me crazy, but I thought this was resolved. Thirty years ago.”
Linda cracks a smile, prompting a rush of relief he didn’t know he was looking for
“It was.” She says cheerfully. “I just like to remind ya every once in a while. Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?”
“It does. It really, really does.”
This much time spent on the subject makes his stomach twist. Occasionally, it crosses his mind that he nearly altered the course of his life in a catastrophic way.
“I don’t think we’re even yet, Bob.” Linda continues. “You broke up with me! You broke my heart. You have no idea how that felt.”
Bob cringes, guilt seeping into his bones. He actually thinks she’d handled the break up remarkably well, considering the mess he would’ve become had the roles been reversed.
“This is a really weird way to tell me you want a divorce, Linda.” He deadpans.
She doesn’t find his comment funny, and it earns him a silencing glare.
“Hush.” She orders. “I just think you owe me! That’s all.”
She stops talking, forcing Bob to press her for answers once again.
“Owe you what? Marriage? Three kids? Because we already did all that, remember? I kind of thought we were past this whole thing, because, and I can’t stress this enough, it happened thirty years ago.”
Linda shrugs, rendering the last three decades into an insignificant blip.
“Yeah, all that stuff’s okay, but how about a foot rub? Then, we’d really be even. Right?”
Her logic fails to convince Bob, but his eyelids are growing unbearably heavy. He’s losing the willpower to argue.
“A foot rub.” He states disbelievingly. “So, all of this is just because you wanted a foot rub.”
She widens her eyes, playing innocent.
“A break-up-iversary foot rub, Bobby. Please? It’s a hard day for me. Oh, yeah. The memories are aaaall flooding back now.”
Bob doubts that, but he still chooses to give in to her demands. In reality, Linda’s probably entitled to holding this over his head even more than she does. That’s how Bob chooses to look at things, anyway.
“Fine.” He concedes. “One foot rub, and it’ll be tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“Afternoon. Wait, no. Evening. After dinner.”
Linda appears deep in thought, trying to milk this for all its worth.
“Mmmm…okay. Deal. Oh! And I get to pick dinner.”
Bob can’t help but laugh at the excitement spilling into her voice, when she’s supposed to be playing the role of a spurned, heartbroken lover.
“You seem to be enjoying this, Lin.” He teases. “Maybe it’s a good thing I dumped you thirty years ago.”
She ducks her head, smiling sheepishly.
“I guess everything worked out okay.” She admits. “That was still an awful night, though, and I still deserve my foot rub.”
Bob nods, having long since accepted defeat.
“That’s…fair. I mean, it’s kind of fair.” He says. “Can I go back to sleep now, or is this part of my punishment?”
Linda cups his face in her hand, planting a noisy kiss on one cheek.
“Get some shut eye, sleepyhead. I’ll bug ya some more tomorrow.”
“You? Bug me?” He asks sarcastically, getting comfortable on his back again. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Don’t make me add on a shoulder rub, Bobby. I’ve got all the power right now.”
He grumbles, finally allowing his eyes to fall shut.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow. And I promise to never dump you again, unless you really deserve it.”
She snorts, joining him under the covers.
“Ditto.”
With another loud pop, she kisses the bridge of his nose.
“Happy break-up-iversary, Bobby. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
If Bob was better with words, he would tell her how happy it makes him that they were only apart for one night. He would tell her he still regrets it, and he’d thank her for taking him back.
But he’s too tired now, and it would come out all wrong. Instead, he’ll focus on making her the best dinner of her life tomorrow night. The best dinner ever, plus a mediocre foot rub. He hopes that will communicate his message clearly enough.
“Goodnight, Lin.” He says, kissing her in the first spot his mouth reaches.
Her shoulder, he thinks, but he can’t be sure in the dark.