Answering Machine

As soon as Allie’s sleepy, barely audible words had filled the small space between us, a floorboard creaked in the hallway. I twisted myself around, directing my eyes towards the half-opened door just in time to see the hallway light flicker to life.

Shit, shit, shit.

I turned back to Allie, placing a kiss on her forehead, whispering, “I love you, too, sweetie,” before rising slowly and approaching the door. I could hear gentle, cautious footsteps making their way toward me. Pulling Allie’s bedroom door closed behind me, I stepped into the hallway and listened as the approaching footsteps halted.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. I was staring at the floor beneath me, noticing a new stain in the rug that ran over the wooden floorboards, completely unable to bring myself to meet her glare.

“John,” she prompted harshly, her voice beginning to leave its hushed range.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I began, raising my eyes to her, “I live here.”

She didn’t say anything as I looked at her. We simply stood on opposite ends of the small hallway, staring at each other. She looked absolutely exhausted; her eyes were heavy, underlined with shadows, her hair was a mess from sleep, her shorts were twisted on her waist, and her t-shirt (which I was more than positive was actually mine), was riding up ever so slightly on the left side, revealing her bare hip.

Even with the tension between us, even with the fight that loomed over our heads, I wanted her. I wanted to sweep her up, carry her back to bed, and stay there forever. But that was just the part of me that wasn’t seethingly mad at her, and that just wasn't how things were anymore.

“Barely,” she finally breathed, her blue eyes piercing through me. I felt my heart falter as the word effortlessly left her lips.

“Don’t say that,” I told her, rolling my eyes.

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

I didn’t have time to respond, before she brushed past me, pushing Allie’s door open a sliver, letting light flood a small section of her room.

“She likes the door open,” she stated. “In case you forgot that.”

“I know that,” I sighed, aggravated. “I just figured that, gee, maybe she shouldn’t have to listen to her parents arguing in the middle of the night.”

“Well, she wouldn’t have to listen to us argue if you weren’t here, now, would she?”

She began to make her way back down the hallway to our bedroom, and I followed after her, relentlessly.

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it,” I accused. “You can’t keep me out of my own home, away from my own daughter, away from you.”

“You do that yourself, John,” she whispered feebly, the sorrow in her eyes nearly shattering me to pieces. She turned and padded softly back into the room, but she didn’t slam the door in my face, which I took as a good sign. Well, at least as good as it was going to get for the time being.

“You knew it would be like this,” I insisted angrily, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me. “Dammit, you knew. You knew it when we were dating, you knew it when we got married, and you still know it. I’m sorry we can’t have the perfect, neat little life you wish we could have – “

“I never asked for perfect,” she interrupted, turning back to face me, her hands clenched at her sides. “It was fine when we were dating, it was fine when I was in school, it was fine when we got married, and it would have continued to be fine if we didn’t have Allie, but we did, and I don’t ever, not for a fraction of a second, wish we didn’t – “

“Don’t talk to me like I don’t love Allie,” I raged, almost forgetting my attempt to keep as quiet as possible.

“I know you love her, even though you have a funny way of showing it, but does she?” I stared at her, taken aback.

“Of course she knows I love her,” I scoffed, outraged that she would even suggest such a thing.

“Oh really? It’s funny you’re so sure of that when you’re not the one who has to listen to her, every day, ask you where her daddy is, or why he won’t come home and play with her.”

My heart broke. It absolutely broke, shattered into millions of pieces in my chest. I wanted nothing more than to crumple, to give in, and admit my faults, but I was too stubborn. I couldn’t be the one to blame for everything, could I?

“Well, what about you?” I questioned, moving closer as I fumed.

“What do you mean, what about me? I’m the one who’s with her every goddamn day, trying to explain why you can’t be there, too, but she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get why every other little girls’ dads are with them at the playground, pushing them on the swings, or picking them up at daycare, while her’s is nowhere to be found.”

“No,” I corrected her, “why is it always my fault? Why can’t you make any effort to come with me when I leave? We talked about it before Allie was born, about how you would stay with me and – “

“That is absolutely ludicrous, John!” she seethed. “She’s too young and I have a job, you know th – “

“I have a job, too!” I retaliated, realizing now that I was close enough to tower over her, arms pinned angrily to the sides of my body.

“Yes, an insane job that tears you away from your family for weeks, even months, at a time.”

Our voices were raising, and I knew they would only continue to do so if we didn’t stop arguing – that was the way it always was.

“Insane?” I repeated. “Insane? That’s what you think it is? You were the one constantly pushing me toward this. You were the one that told me, every goddamn day, to do everything I could to make the band work. And now you think it’s insane?”

“It’s insane that you – “

“Hey!” I hissed, wincing as her voice grew a few decibels, loud enough, I knew, to travel down the hallway.

“ – are never here – “

“Stop!” I whispered as loudly as possible, though I most certainly wasn’t gaining much ground against her voice.

“ – with your own family – “

“Lindsay!”

My voice met hers, and she stopped fuming, staring at me. I looked back at her, realizing that, finally, for the first time that night, I’d said her name.

Before I could think to stop myself, or she herself, she was on her toes and I dipped my head to send my lips crashing onto hers. My hands found their way from the sides of my body to hers, and it felt like catching fire. The tips of my fingers burned, pulling her closer to me. It had been weeks – over a month – since I had touched her, held her, kissed her.

Her hands wound through my hair, tugging on the ends and pulling each strand in a different direction. I shifted my balance, sending both of us stumbling back to the bed. She gasped as her back hit the mattress and we broke apart, though she wasted no time letting her lips travel to my jaw, then my throat, and my collarbone.

“Lindsay,” I sighed, this time letting her name fall from my lips with ease. I had nearly forgotten what it felt like to whisper her name so softly, and how it felt to hold her, with her skin burning hotly against mine.

She murmured something back, inaudibly, her breath hitting my neck as her hands roamed to my waist and tugged at the hem of my shirt. I ducked to let her pull the cotton t-shirt over my shoulders, before pushing her further back onto the bed and letting my hands do the same to her shirt.

I knew it wasn’t necessarily the best thing to do – interrupting our fight by ending up in bed together. And I knew, like hell I knew, that tomorrow we would pretend as though this hadn’t happened, and right back to fighting we would go. I also knew, however, that I didn’t give a damn what happened in the morning, because right now, Lindsay was mine. And I knew, as soon as she whispered my name against my ear, that I was done for.