Lizzie's Journal

by abeautifulmessofcontradictions

AU: Lizzie and Tom are both schoolteachers. Lizzie is an aspiring romance writer. These are the details of the disintegration of her marriage with Tom told from Lizzie's perspective, through her journal entries. Other cast members make appearances in various OOC roles.

7. Chapter 7

Entry 7:

We lay on the couch after dinner, me with my head pillowed into the corner of the big sectional, you with my feet in your hands. You run your hand along my ankle, caress my thigh. You take your time, stroking your palm up and down my leg. You offer to scratch my back; you know I love that. I politely decline, refuse, it is not necessary; I have learned to care for myself, see to my own comfort.

You slide down the couch, sit beside me, scratch my shoulders. I sigh for you, because it does feel good, but it doesn't feel like it used to, like I thought it should. It doesn't move me, I don't feel comforted. I close my eyes and roll to my side. You return to your place on the couch, rubbing the top of my foot again. You travel the length of my calf, your palm trying to convince me you're sorry.

I have noticed you looking at me strangely this week, carefully, as though you can sense something is off, but you cannot define it. You are confused, attempting to work out the subtle changes in my behavior.

I am not cold, not fully distant, but not at all myself. I have done nothing childish or overt; on the contrary, I have been polite, refined, considerate. Each day I come home and clean a room of the house, I make the bed, I fill the coffee pot for you. I make dinner, I say 'thank you', I fill the truck with gas. I clean up after myself and you, I feed the cats.

You do all the things you always do, but I am no longer overly grateful, I do not trip over my tongue in my zeal to tell you how much I appreciate you, to express my gratitude in a way that builds you up.

I also have not asked your permission. I leave you a love note, respond to your texts throughout the day, call before I leave school. But I do not rush home on the day you unexpectedly come home early, I do not cancel my plans. I do not tell you about Book Club or babysitting or the trip to Orlando, not until they are upon us. Because you will only argue and we will fight and you will attempt to make me feel small again. And I don't care anymore. You want me unemotional. I want my independence.