Sherry deleted the text. It was the third one she’d deleted in the past five minutes. Silly, she knew. Deliberately, she put the phone on the bed and walked across the room. With it out of reach she was far, far less likely to send him a text. It was past 1am and far, far too late to be texting stupid apologies again. She’d already apologized. He’d apologized. She’d apologized a lot. But no, it wasn’t enough somehow.
But why was she so hell bent on apologizing more?
Sherry didn’t know. She knew she apologized too much sometimes, but this time…. She looked at the phone. She could send one little text. Just one. No.
What did she want from him? He’d said it was okay. He’d said it was okay more than once. He’d apologized to her. So what was she wanting? Did she want him to cave and give her what she wanted? No, no she didn’t. The very idea made her feel guilty. Did she want him to be angry with her, to tell her he’d had enough and that she was stupid and it was over? No, she didn’t want that either. The very idea made her sick. So what was it?
“I don’t know,” she told herself, opening the closet. The clothes needed put away properly. They needed hung. Sherry reached out and picked up a shirt, shaking it, and then she reached out for a hanger to put it on.
“I want…I want…”
“Right?” Sherry sighed. Armagnac knew her, Sherry’s, mind better than Sherry sometimes. She could…step back and nearly see things from the outside.
“I…I am happy. I just. Feel bad. I—“
Sherry sighed and picked up another shirt. Another thing to hang. Mindless work. Which meant there was too much thinking. “But Armagnac, I’m not-“
Her dress was on the floor. Silly thing.
“Yes. I do.”
“But…”
Armagnac made a noise that may have been a snort.
Sherry hung up her dress and smoothed the fabric between her fingers. She did remember the vision. She’d been… so sure. Even with all the loss. So full of Hope that things would be okay and everything would turn out all right in the end. She’d been something more.
And yet here she was wanting to cry, apologize, and beat a dead horse. She had talked with Jake about the whole intimacy issue. They’d reached conclusions. She didn’t need to ap—
“He was not himself.” Sherry’s expression went blank as she thought about it.
“It wasn’t his fault, Armagnac,” Sherry said, bending down to pick up another shirt. “Not his fault and he should not feel guiltier than he does. I hope he’s getting sleep. I-“
“Armagnac, don’t.”
Sherry shook her head and wiped tears away. Maybe Armagnac was right. Maybe Sherry was trying to bury the incident.
“I’m done thinking about this,” she said. Sherry left the closet, and tugged off her shirt, her shorts, and removed most of her trinkets. Then she turned off the light before slipping into bed.
The last thing she did before falling asleep was write a new text. A simple one.
[A.V.]
Text to Jake: I love you.
