Saviour

Lydia woke up early and alone. She felt out of place and strange, like when she was sixteen and woke up in Jacob Andreen’s room and no memory of the night before.

She stretched and was surprised to find faint warmth underneath her hands on Robert’s side of the bed.

She sat upright quickly, as if she’d been shocked, and tip-toed out of the room to the top of the staircase. It was silly, but she was afraid if she made too much noise, Robert would vanish.

She walked down slowly and snuck her head around the corner into the kitchen where she saw Robert drinking a glass of water. He was dressed in a suit, and she could see his suitcase and coat on the counter.

He had planned on leaving before she got up. Lydia felt her throat close up and her hands shake as violently as her heart thumped. It smelled fresh, too clean, like lavender air freshener and Clorox. It made her feel sick.

She stared at Robert wondering if she should clear her throat or cough or even catch his attention at all. But Robert decided for her by looking up and locking eyes. Neither of them spoke for at least a minute. Lydia took in Robert’s face, trying to memorize every detail by breaking them down, singling out each line and curve like he was a map she couldn’t quite read.

When he spoke, she still wasn’t satisfied with her work. She felt like as soon as he left, she’d forget everything about him, then slowly, everything about herself.

“You’re up early.” Lydia nodded. Her vocal chords suddenly felt old and rusted, like she hadn’t used them in years. “I’m heading out,” Robert continued. His words were all clipped, like he was holding something in.

“Wait,” Lydia cringed at her gravelly voice.

“I can’t.” Robert made a move for his things, but Lydia grabbed his arm and made him face her. He jerked his arm away like he’d been burned and looked at her dead on. She opened her mouth and closed it again, intimidated by his harsh features. “Fucking spit it out,” he cooed. Her face turned red in anger and humiliation at his mocking.

“I heard you, last night. Crying.” Robert’s face softened for a fleeting moment—Lydia almost thought it hadn’t happened. He closed off, turning away and putting on his coat. Lydia noticed how unsteady his hands were as he tried to push each button through its hole. “Robert don’t ignore me. Robert, stop!” He shoved her hands away like she was a bothersome fly as she attempted stop his hands from finishing the buttons. “Robert!” His name was a distressed cry, a final try to get his attention.

He grabbed his suitcase, eyes keeping to the floor.

She put her hands on his chest to keep him from getting closer to the door, pushing with all of her might. She could feel the water welling up in her eyes. His anger radiated off of him in waves that grew more and more potent, she thought she was going to be knocked off of her feet by the thick emotions that anchored around the room.

Robert let out a few mumbles but ignored her. However, when she pushed again with everything she had, Robert grabbed her arms and shook her.

Lydia felt her skull rattling underneath her skin, ricocheting off the walls her flesh made. It was abrupt—it finished as quickly as it started—but still Lydia was dizzy. She felt like she was riding in those purple carts—the tilt-a-whirl—spinning and spinning until she thought she’d be sick.

When things became still and straight again, she saw Robert slipping out of the door, heard his strange little murmurs.

Lydia felt her heart slow and calm down, and she almost wished it’d get slower and slower and everything would become fuzzy and cold until her heart just stopped.