After The Storm

Josephine walked through the dimly lit rooms of her small house, the solitude doing little to mute the amplified echoes of the loud argument still ringing in her ears. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she replayed the volatile exchange over and over, picking apart each word and intonation for some clue as to how it had escalated so quickly.

She found herself in the kitchen, pausing at the window above the sink to gaze unseeingly into the darkening yard. It was here, all those years ago, that she had first glimpsed Michael through the very same window. His laugh had carried through the open back gate as he'd helped his neighbour unload boxes from a moving truck. She'd been drawn to the carefree sound like a moth to a flame.

Leaning against the counter, Josephine closed her eyes and remembered the way her heart had somersaulted at the sight of his brilliant smile. They had struck up an effortless conversation then, and she found solace in recalling the easy companionship of their early days. Things had seemed so simple back when stolen moments on this very spot had been filled with hopeful promise, not painful retrospection.

A shuffling sound behind her pulled Josephine from her thoughts. She turned to find Michael hovering uncertainly in the kitchen doorway, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, running a hand through already dishevelled hair. "I never meant to upset you. Can we please talk about this?"

Josephine studied him for a long moment, wavering between a desire to protect her still-aching heart, and the deep-seated need to believe in the man who had once made that very same heart feel whole. With a quiet sigh, she nodded. "All right. Let's talk." Josephine closed her eyes as another wave of anguish washed over her. She could still hear the biting words hissed across her kitchen table only hours before.

It had started innocently enough, with a discussion over which bills needed priority that month. But old wounds had lain just below the surface, and it didn't take much for them to rupture open.

She remembered catching Robert's eyes from across the table and seeing the impatience simmering there, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. "The electricity can wait," he'd stated flatly. But Josephine had disagreed, again.

That was all it took for the eruption.

"You never listen to me, it's always your way or nothing!" Robert had exploded.

Josephine had bristled. "Maybe if you'd discuss things like an adult instead of ordering me around."

"Ordering you around? I'm trying to manage our finances!"

The volume escalated with each retort, as months of pent-up frustrations burst forth. Accusations were yelled, triggers pulled without care for the damage.

"You're so controlling!"

"And you never take responsibility!"

Before long they were hurling insults with venomous precision, reopening each tiny wound they'd inflicted on the other over the years of small missteps and miscommunications. The hurt and anger rose to a crescendo that couldn't be walked back from.  

Now, in the painful aftermath, Josephine knew that some deep repairs would be needed if they hoped to stitch back together the fabric of their relationship, tattered and frayed from the force of their passions. But first, understanding. Josephine took a steadying breath as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms still hugged tightly around herself. One thought echoed ceaselessly in her head: she couldn't stay here tonight.