Grief
Toby/Andy. WW. G. Toby doesn't believe in déjà vu, just making the same mistake twice
Rust ridden attempts, my friends. I did want to get this feeling out of my body though.
Andrea walked out (again) and (again) he's just an island in their kitchen.
Toby doesn't believe in déjà vu, just making the same mistake twice (thrice even), and so, when he finally leaves the kitchen it's to smoke a cigar out on the balcony and drink a little. He has a phone next to him, not for his wife (she won't call), but for when he's ready to call C.J. and wake her up and have her yell at him. C.J. yells for Andrea when she's run out of things to say, or will to say it. Toby doesn't understand why. They aren't exceptionally close. Maybe (he's taking the longest drag and it's making him dizzy) maybe, it's not about her. Maybe, C.J.'s so pissed at him, this shell of a man, that she defends the only thing in his life that's worth such effort. (He lets the smoke of his mouth and nose. It's never ending.)
"Hello," it's C.J. Her face sounds nose deep in a down pillow.
"Hey."
"Toby?"
He can her the sheets rustle, the light click, and her elbow dig in. She's up.
"Yeah."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"For Christ's sake, Toby. It's three in the morning here, I have get up for real soon and if I wanted to play this game," she sighs.
"Andy's gone."
"Good for her." Toby hears her shift when he doesn't respond. "She's gone? Toby, what did you do?"
*
The next morning he hears her creep through the door. He emerges from the bathroom, squinting his eyes, and spots her shoveling clothes into a red and brown suitcase.
"Wh- What are you doing?"
Andy doesn't stop, "I'm going to my mother's."
He squeezes the back of his neck and watches as the contents of her drawer pile into such a small space. "Okay."
She shoots him a look and he doesn't miss it. "Jesus, Toby."
"What?"
"Do you fight for anything anymore?"
"Only when it's worth the fight," he says and shuts the bathroom door.
*
Divorce is for "other" people.
Whoever thinks this should not get married, he thinks, and continues putting his signature on the lines with an "X" in front. He might think that they let go together, but - if he's honest - she was forced to long before. The grief is never ending.
Rust ridden attempts, my friends. I did want to get this feeling out of my body though.
Andrea walked out (again) and (again) he's just an island in their kitchen.
Toby doesn't believe in déjà vu, just making the same mistake twice (thrice even), and so, when he finally leaves the kitchen it's to smoke a cigar out on the balcony and drink a little. He has a phone next to him, not for his wife (she won't call), but for when he's ready to call C.J. and wake her up and have her yell at him. C.J. yells for Andrea when she's run out of things to say, or will to say it. Toby doesn't understand why. They aren't exceptionally close. Maybe (he's taking the longest drag and it's making him dizzy) maybe, it's not about her. Maybe, C.J.'s so pissed at him, this shell of a man, that she defends the only thing in his life that's worth such effort. (He lets the smoke of his mouth and nose. It's never ending.)
"Hello," it's C.J. Her face sounds nose deep in a down pillow.
"Hey."
"Toby?"
He can her the sheets rustle, the light click, and her elbow dig in. She's up.
"Yeah."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"For Christ's sake, Toby. It's three in the morning here, I have get up for real soon and if I wanted to play this game," she sighs.
"Andy's gone."
"Good for her." Toby hears her shift when he doesn't respond. "She's gone? Toby, what did you do?"
*
The next morning he hears her creep through the door. He emerges from the bathroom, squinting his eyes, and spots her shoveling clothes into a red and brown suitcase.
"Wh- What are you doing?"
Andy doesn't stop, "I'm going to my mother's."
He squeezes the back of his neck and watches as the contents of her drawer pile into such a small space. "Okay."
She shoots him a look and he doesn't miss it. "Jesus, Toby."
"What?"
"Do you fight for anything anymore?"
"Only when it's worth the fight," he says and shuts the bathroom door.
*
Divorce is for "other" people.
Whoever thinks this should not get married, he thinks, and continues putting his signature on the lines with an "X" in front. He might think that they let go together, but - if he's honest - she was forced to long before. The grief is never ending.