Ghosted

He finishes that sentence, saying something, but I don’t pay attention, because Madison returns. “Sorry, Daddy. I forgot it was Tuesday and I had to get some Show & Tell.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “What did you pick?”

“Guess!”

“Breezeo?”

“Nope!” She whips out her Maryanne doll to show me. “Ta-da!”

“Wow, something new, huh?”

“Yep,” she says.

“What made you switch?”

“I didn’t want Mommy to be sad, ‘cuz you’re gone, so she got to have my Breezeo for now. He’s in her bed, taking a nap!”

“Wow,” I say, trying not to laugh at the fact that she’s sleeping with a tiny doll version of me in my absence. “That was nice of you.”

Kennedy yells again in the background, asking Madison if she’s seen her phone.

“Uh-oh. Gotta go!”

She hangs up.

I shake my head, realizing Kennedy probably doesn’t even know she called me.

Getting up to go to wardrobe, I see Cliff still lurking.

He glances at his watch. “You’re due on set in fifteen minutes.”

Shit. I'm going to be late.

They’re making a Breezeo movie.

You whisper this as you crawl into bed with the woman you love for the first time in weeks. It’s the middle of the night. You just got home from New York. You've been back and forth all summer, deep into the fall. You were due back days ago, the first of October, but you kept delaying your return.

Your arms slide around her from behind as you pull her to you, her back against your chest. You smell like your cologne. Too often, you come home smelling like booze or perfume. She makes you shower every time it happens before you can even touch her.

“Are you serious?” she asks. “A Breezeo movie?”

You hum in response as you tug at her clothes, moving just enough fabric aside to make her feel good. She’s only wearing her underwear and one of your t-shirts. She moans as you slide into her from behind. Your lips are on her neck. It takes no time at all before she’s crying out in pleasure.

You move then, laying flat on your back as you pull her on top. Sighing, you grasp her hips and slide right back inside, closing your eyes. “You feel so good, baby. I just want to lay here and feel you. I’m so fucking exhausted right now.”

“And you think I’m not?”

You open your eyes again when she says that. There’s a bite to those words. She’s not moving, staring down at you. It’s dark in the bedroom, but not so dark that she can’t see your clear blue eyes. You came home sober.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t think about it, either, huh?”

There’s that bite again.

“Come on, can we not fight right now?” you ask, and you even sound exhausted. There’s not a shred of anger in your voice. “I just got home ten minutes ago. I haven’t seen you in over a month. I… fuck, I just want to be inside of you right now. We can fight tomorrow if you want.”

She makes a face at you but slowly starts moving. You close your eyes again, relaxing. It doesn’t go on long before you pull her down to you, holding her as you thrust. You whisper in her ear, whispering how much you’ve missed her, how you haven’t been able to sleep without her beside you.

After you finish, she just lays there, still on top. Your hands roam beneath the t-shirt, stroking her back. It’s quiet. Used to be, the silence between you felt comfortable, but now it’s like an invisible barrier that’s difficult to get around.

“I took some meetings for it,” you tell her. “For Breezeo. They haven’t announced it yet. I’m not even supposed to talk about it. It’s still too early.”

“Wait, you’re doing it?” She moves, rolling over to look at you. “You?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to spend tomorrow going over it with Cliff. But that’s why I didn’t come home right away.”

“That’s… wow. You have to do it! Or you at least have to try. You’d be brilliant as Breezeo.”

“Now you’re pushing it. If I go for the movie, there’s no way I’d ever get the lead. I can't carry a franchise.”

“What? Of course you can! You’d be perfect, Jonathan. I’m serious! I mean, come on, nobody knows Breezeo like I do, and I’m a billion percent sure that it has to be you. So you have to try, okay? For me? Please?”

“You just want to see me wearing the costume, don’t you?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t not want to…”

You laugh, kissing her. “I’ll see if I can make that happen for you.”

“You promise?”

You never promise things. She expects you’ll laugh, but instead, you say, “I promise. I’ll try.”

For the first time in a while, she goes to sleep with a smile… and that’s the last smile she ever gets.

Ugh, that’s too dramatic. It’s also not true. What I really mean is it’s the last time she smiles with you.