thoughtful tilt I wanted to write something here. I wanted it to last. I wanted you to read these words, For this to be the day, But no, nevermind, I've nothing left to say. 070216 ... tender_square she moved the privacy divider from the wall when she heard him open the bedroom door, stood in the opening she had created. “what’s up?” he was surprised to see her away from her desk. “did you have to take a phone call while i was writing?” she softened the edge she feared would creep into her voice. “are you serious?” “yes.” he turned and walked away from her, returned with a wrapper to discard, passing her as he moved into the kitchen. “why do you get to storm off when i’m bringing up something that upsets me?” “because i’m angry.” they were motionless in the hallway. she spoke calmly. “you don’t think i’m angry right now?” she was placid as a pond. “it was my sister. we were having a phone conversation about organizing mom’s memorial, the phone call that i would have had with her tomorrow for mom’s birthday.” “i didn’t know who you were talking to or what you were talking about. couldn’t you have said, ‘can i call you back in a couple of hours, my wife is working’?” “the amount of time i talk on the phone is infrequent. but sure, i’ll do what you want.” he moved to shut the bathroom door on her, ending their discussion. “all i’m asking is for you to extend the same consideration that i do for you.” “how so?” “do you know how many times i’ve not made or taken phone calls from my mom or from my sister because you were writing or you were napping? i say i can’t talk to them all the time, out of respect for you.” “i didn’t know that! how am i supposed to know that?” “because it’s the thoughtful thing to do.” she sighed. “look, i get that these were extenuating circumstances and that your sister called you. all i’m asking is that you keep this in mind if it happens again in the future.” “fine.” he closed the door and she turned back to her office, sliding the privacy partition back into place. 220303 ... tender_square she deposited her dirty clothes in the hamper. “remember when you said you were upset when you felt like i didn’t react to you mentioning that you were talking to your sister about mom’s memorial? i think i know what that was about.” he removed his headphones and looked up from his computer on the bed. “okay?” “and i’m not saying that you meant it this way, i’m saying this is how i interpreted it.” she sat on the bed, her head by his feet, so she could look at him. “i thought when you told me that you were trying to guilt me as a way to keep me from standing up for myself.” “i was just relaying the facts of what happened to give you an understanding.” “i know that. but i thought the purpose was not only to communicate what happened, but also to make me feel bad for bringing up that i was upset, to sort of put me in my place. and i think it stems from my family stuff. i thought you were trying to emotionally manipulate me the way my sisters do when they’re confronted.” “now, you know i don’t do that to you.” she made a face that said otherwise. “do i?” she hesitated to answer. “you can tell me,” he assured her. “not in this kind of situation, no. but it does feel like whenever i try to do something for myself, it’s perceived as being a step away from you. and i know that you’re expressing how you feel in that moment and you’re being genuine, but it causes guilt, and makes me feel like you prefer that i wouldn’t do those things at all.” a silence passed between them. “and i sort of feel like a dick for getting upset with you because while i was in the tub, i realized that you’ve been giving me three hours a night to myself since i started back at work, uninterrupted. two hours for writing after dinner, and then an hour to meditate and do yoga before bed.” “i do give you that.” he uncrossed his arms. “see, this is what i mean about you being too rigid with your standards at times.” she nodded. “i know.” they were never going to agree about time though. “but you know how important these things are to me.” 220304 what's it to you? who go blather from