I grabbed the pajamas I kept in the bathroom and quietly changed in there before turning off the light and going to bed.
Jon was on his side of the bed, his back to me. I slowly eased into bed, careful not to disturb the sheets or comforter. I slept on one side, my back to his, holding the edge of the bed. It seemed almost impossible for there to be any more free space between us. It was hard not to think back to the days when our love was new and exciting. From that first night at the bowling alley when Jon had come up with a plan to convince my date that we were old friends and that I was going to stay with him so we could catch up. I could not even remember the name of the guy I had been on a date with. I could only remember Jon.
Jon's plan had worked; my date had left, and Jon had ditched his friends to buy me a beer at the little food counter. I had no intention of letting him take me home, I was going to have a girlfriend swing by and pick me up. Jon was fine with that. He just wanted my telephone number so he could call and take me out sometime. I can still remember how attracted I was to him, how my stomach flipped when he had asked me to stay with him. I still hoped we would return to those days.
The buzzing of the alarm on my phone wakes me the next morning. I hurry to turn it off before it wakes Jon. When he moves I freeze, holding my breath until I hear him rustle again, exhaling when it is clear he is still asleep. I rise slowly from our bed and tip toe to the bathroom. I take my shower, then get dressed. After pulling my wet hair up into a tight bun, I brush my teeth and walk out to the kitchen. I pack my usual frozen lunch and a yogurt into my lunch bag and grab a granola bar to eat in the car for breakfast. After slipping on my Crocs and heavy winter coat, I take my purse and keys off of the hook by the door and quietly leave the apartment.
In the past I would race down the stairs to my car and start it before running back up the stairs and into the apartment to wait while it warmed up. Ohio winters sucked, and I dreamed of the day I could afford a remote starter. These days, I waited in my car while it warmed up because of the one morning coming back into the apartment I had woken Jon up.
I had been standing in the foyer giggling because I had just completed some Olympic-level maneuvers on our slippery stairs and had somehow managed to not fall on my ass. Jon came roaring out of our bedroom, screaming at me for waking him up with the door and then my giggling. I had stood there sobbing, trying to explain, trying to apologize. It didn’t matter to Jon. From that day on, I waited in my car.
As the car warms up I wiggle my toes to keep them from feeling so stiff. I have the defroster on full blast, and once the windshield and back window are clear enough to see out of, I reverse out of my spot and drive to work. We live in the suburbs of Cleveland. My office is closer to downtown. My favorite part of the commute is crossing the Cuyahoga River. The river reminds me of my parents.
As I approach the river I make sure I'm in the slow lane. Each morning, the river looks different. The trees lining the banks shed their last leaves weeks ago, the water reflecting the bare branches above. Some mornings, I can barely see the water as a swirling layer of mist obscures it. Something about the river centers me and has a calming effect. The fact that it is also the part of my commute where my toes seem to thaw out may also have something to do with it.
When I get to work I start my computer before grabbing my water bottle from my desk and taking it and my lunch bag to the break room. After putting my lunch bag in the refrigerator, I’m filling up my water bottle from the cooler