Can't you see how unhappy you are and it seems like you don't know me
Know Me by The Band Camino
(June 2009)
The thing they don't tell you about Tallahassee, though, is it's hot and it's humid and if you have a crack in your foundation, your house won't withstand the storm.
They love each other and things are good, but the bills add up and the hours at work are long and the past is always there. And sometimes no matter how good something is, it's still hard.
Hailey notices the nightmares. If she's honest, she noticed them when they first started dating, and maybe she should have said something then, but she didn't. She remembers getting nightmares as a teenager, when she was bouncing around from house to house, relieving the abuse from her father, and dealing with the constant stress that was her new life. She remembers waking up thrashing in a cold sweat, always with a breathless silent scream as to not wake her foster parents, and that she never wanted to talk about it.
Talking about it made it real, talking about it wasn't safe, so she didn't talk about it.
Hailey convinced herself that Jay would talk to her when he was ready but the weeks passed and he never brought up the nightmares. So, neither did she.
And now, she is kicking herself for not saying something back then. Because now the nightmares are worse.
The first night he lies to her, tells her he's fine and he's just tired. And it hurts, but she gets it.
But then the second, third, fourth, and countless times more, he does the same thing. It's always the same excuse, the same passive lie.
"I'm just really tired."
"I'm not feeling well. Must be coming down with something and I'm out of it. Happens sometimes."
"Long hours at work. Bad for your sleep schedule I guess."
And with every lie, Hailey bites her tongue. Because she loves him and she wants to believe the best in him, but right now, it's a little hard to do.
But after a few weeks, the nightmares don't stop, and she can see the tiredness in his eyes and the way he is working himself to the bone. He's leaving for work earlier these days and getting home later than before and she knows that most of the time, he is beyond exhausted. At one point, she can't bite her tongue anymore.
"You're tired," Hailey whispers one morning while they are quietly drinking coffee. He has a half-hour until he needs to be at work, and she has an hour until she needs to get to the diner, and maybe it's not the time for this conversation, but she can't take one more day of seeing his tired face and not saying something.
"I literally just woke up, Hailey," he tries to play it off as joking. "And I haven't finished my coffee yet. Of course, I'm tired."
She pushes her mug away from her, suddenly not interested in the coffee, and glances up at him from her spot at their small makeshift dining room table. "You know what I mean."
"Hailey, I'm f-"
"I swear if you tell me that you're fine one more time," she bites out, surprising herself with her tone. When Jay looks up at her, shocked and maybe even hurt, it breaks her a little more, but she can't keep dancing around this.
"I am fine," he argues, jaw now tense and eyes harsh.
"Dammit, Jay," she half yells, her arm accidentally knocking against the table, making her coffee splash out of her mug but right now, she does not care. "Why can't you just admit that you're not sleeping?"
He shakes his head with a grimace, grabbing his coffee and standing up. He walks away from the table back towards the kitchen. Hailey leans back with a frustrated sigh, just waiting for him to say something, anything.
But he doesn't. He pours his coffee into a travel mug and mumbles something under his breath about how he's running late.
"Whatever," Hailey mutters. She stands up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing a towel to clean up her spilled coffee, not even looking at him while she does. "Don't sleep. Burn yourself out. See if I care."
It's a low blow, but she's beyond frustrated at this point. She's working long hours and so is he and they barely see each other and when they do, it's because he's waking up in the middle of the night screaming and then lying to her and telling her that he's fine.
So, yeah, she goes with the low blow.
"Hailey-"
"I'm just worried about you," she cuts him off, softer this time. She looks up from cleaning the spilled coffee to see him leaning against the fridge, a worn look on his face, his eyes staring at the floor.
She tosses the towel onto the table and walks over to the kitchen and stands a few feet in front of him. "You are not sleeping. You haven't been sleeping for weeks and I am worried. So, for five minutes can you just stop lying to me?"
"I'm not lying," he grumbles.
"Aren't you?"
It's quiet for a moment and then, he sighs, looking about as defeated as she feels right now. "Hailey, we have to get to work," he finally says, looking up at her. "We can't do this now."
She wants to yell, wants to scream that she doesn't care about work. That she'll work at another diner and that none of it matters but they live paycheck to paycheck as it is and she starts at the Academy in just a few weeks. They can't be late for work and get fired because they couldn't wait twelve hours to have this conversation.
Jay must see her frustration because he sets down his travel mug and pulls her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. At first, she's surprised but when she realizes what he's doing, she doesn't put up a fight, too tired from the endless hours at work and the arguing with him. Right now, she's more than content to lean into his embrace.
"It's just been a long few weeks at work, okay? I promise I'll deal with it. I'm sorry for worrying you."
It sounds genuine but something in her worries that it's just a cop-out, just a way for him to pacify her frustration and end the conversation. But they only have a few minutes until he needs to walk out the door, so she presses her lips into a tight line and nods.
"Promise me we will talk about this at some point," Hailey whispers. "And if you can't deal with it, you'll talk to someone. I don't even care if it's me, just-"
"I will," he cuts her off gently. "We will."
Hailey wants to argue but she doesn't. Instead, she stays in his arms just a moment longer before she presses a quick kiss on his cheek, whispering "okay" against his skin. Then, she slips away to go finish getting ready for the day.
He whispers goodbye before he leaves and Hailey just gives him a small wave, not having the energy to say anything more.
They don't talk about it. But they do start fighting.
A lot.
It starts as snippy comments, "You're always working" and "Why do you keep coming home late?"
It grows though. Because if they're not going to address it, there is nothing left for all the problems to do but simmer.
"You got mail from Will," Hailey murmurs as Jay walks into the kitchen one night after he finishes taking a shower. She is leaning against the kitchen counter, shuffling through the rest of the mail, not even looking up when he comes to stand across from her.
He takes the envelope in question, slowly opening it as Hailey lets out a disappointed sigh, most likely looking at some bill that they'll barely be able to afford to pay.
"What did Will send you?" She breathes out, dropping the few envelopes she was sorting through and finally looking up at him
"Birthday card," Jay hums, holding it out for her to see. "Late birthday card but-"
"He sent you a card. What's the issue?" Her voice is sharper than she probably intends. She just got off a long shift and she was up early this morning, so maybe it's that. But it still gets Jay to raise his eyebrows at her in surprise.
"I literally didn't say anything besides the fact that it's late. My birthday is in May. It's June."
"He still sent you a card, didn't he?"
"Hailey, I don't know what your deal is-"
"I don't have a deal," she cuts him off. "I'm just saying that your brother sent you a card. You could be a little more appreciative. Maybe even talk to him more than once a year."
And there it is. It's not the first time she's asked him about his history with Will, why the once close brothers now only talk a few times a year at birthdays and holidays, and normally, Hailey is understanding. If anyone gets complicated family dynamics, it's her. She's never once said something negative or invalidating about Jay's choice to not talk to his father or brother.
Until today.
"I'm sorry, but how maybe times a year do you talk to your brothers?" Jay scoffs, realizing it's a low blow but not even caring. He's tired after a long day of work and this is probably their fourth fight this week, so taking the moral high ground seems like a bit of a stretch right now.
"That's different and you know it," she mutters. She turns around, moving to the other side of the kitchen, and starts to wash the dishes, her back turned towards him. She turns up the water all the way, a clear attempt to drown out whatever Jay is going to say next, and he just shakes his head.
"What?" He asks. "You're gonna bring up my brother and then not even talk to me?"
"Dishes need to be done, Jay," she hums. "You're the one who is always saying the apartment needs to be clean."
"And they need to be done right now?"
Hastily, she turns off the faucet and turns around, hands dripping as she reaches for the nearest towel. "Well, when would you prefer they get done, huh? During my sixty-hour work week? When, Jay?"
Just looking at her, he can tell she's on edge. Her walls are up and the defensiveness is almost oozing out of her. It feels like if he took one step closer to her, she might break down.
"Did something happen at work?" Jay asks, a little softer than he has been the whole conversation. "You're normally not-"
"Not what, Jay?" She raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer, but Jay shakes his head.
He's noticed some days she comes home just different. For the life of him, he can't figure out what it is and no matter how many times he asks her, she won't tell him. But each day that she is off, the light from her eyes is a little dimmer.
Every time he tries to talk to her on those days or he offers to help her, she pushes him away. Says she's tired or does not want to talk about whatever clearly happened. The look in her eyes, it reminds him of when they were younger, teenagers sitting on some old swings and it was one of the rare times she would tell him about Mr. Donovan or the countless other foster parents she had lived with or even her real parents.
She has never told him a lot about her family, though, so he does not know if there is something happening during the day that is reminding her of her past. Maybe it's the anniversaries of when she and her brothers got taken out of the house or when they aged out of the system. Maybe it's her mom's birthday or the anniversary of when their diner got robbed. He's got no idea but all he knows is some days she comes home and shuts him out.
"Nothing," he breathes out, realizing that voicing his concern is probably not worth the inevitable fight it's going to cause. If she wanted him to know, she would tell him. And it's possible he's making more out of this than it is. Maybe, she really is just tired. "Nothing."
"Jay-" she whispers. Her body visibly softens when she sees his disappointed face but he knows it's just a matter of time before they are fighting again, so he doesn't address it.
"You're right," Jay says quickly. "He sent me a card. I should be more appreciative. He's my brother."
By the look in her eyes, there are unsaid words on the tip of her tongue. Maybe it's an argument, maybe it's an apology, maybe it's an explanation. Whatever it is though, she nervously swallows them and nods, lips pressed into a tight line as she stares at the ground.
"I can do the dishes if you want," Jay says with a sigh. "You've probably had a long -"
"I can do it," she answers quickly, too quickly, before getting softer. "It's okay."
There's that look again. The pushing him away. The refusing to let him help. He's seen it more and more in the past few months and every time, it confuses him more.
"I can dry?" He offers lightly. "Then we can both go to sleep early? We could probably both use it."
She chuckles sadly but doesn't say anything. Her eyes are trained on him and he is half expecting for her to say no again and just turn around but she instead silently tosses him the towel in her hand and gives him a sad little smile.
It feels like an unspoken olive branch. A way to hold them over until the point where they are both in a headspace to talk about what is actually going on.
It's not much but he appreciates it.
They do the dishes in silence. It's so different from how they used to do the dishes when they first started dating, both fighting over the sprayer and wiping soap suds on the other. Back then, it was fun, happy, playful. Today, it's methodical. Wash, dry, put away.
If he's honest, it feels like most things are different these days.
The off days start to outnumber the good days.
They start to linger, pouring over to the next morning, and then that night.
It's stupid arguments that have no reason to last that long, but neither of them is willing to talk about anything, the little things or the big things that have been growing for months.
When Jay walks through the apartment door that night, it's unbearably hot. Their window fan has been on the fritz all week and it's just one more little thing that has been adding to all of their stress. It seems like every time they turn around, something else is breaking in the apartment but without enough money to fix it, they just have to make do with what they have.
It's late, nearing eight, and he assumed when he left work that Hailey would beat him home. She worked an early shift today, slipping out of bed before he even woke up, and he has not seen her since last night. Last night was another argument about the number of hours they are both working and how Jay doesn't seem to be sleeping and how Hailey seems to be on edge. Another night where they just went to bed angry instead of working it out.
But Hailey's not here. She's not in the kitchen or on the couch or even passed out in bed. The bathroom light appears off and there is nowhere else in the little apartment she could possibly go.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and goes to lean against the back of the couch in the middle of the room, flipping the phone open and finding no missed calls or texts from Hailey. Even when they are fighting, it's not like her to just not tell him if she is going to be home late.
Immediately, his mind starts going a mile a minute and Jay starts assuming the worst. Did something happen at work? On the way home? Did she get sick? Did she get hurt?
Did she finally have enough and leave?
His finger is hovering over the number two, Hailey's caller ID number on his phone, and he is about to call her when he hears the jostling of keys in the lock. He lets out a sigh of relief and rushes to the door, barely even giving her enough time to take a step in before he is entering her space.
"Are you okay?" He breathes out, hands instinctively reaching towards her. His hands graze her arms, holding her still, and she squints her eyes up at him in confusion.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I was helping Miss Daisy across the hall change a light bulb," she says, pulling out of his embrace a bit and looking up at him weirdly. "What happened to you?"
"I was worried-"
"No," Hailey shakes her head. "Your face. What happened to your face?"
His hand drops from her forearm and comes to skim his cheek, remembering the forming bruise that is there. Honestly, when he came home, his first thought had been to grab ice and take care of the injury, but when he saw that Hailey was not in the apartment, the new purple bruise became the last thing on his mind.
"Took an elbow to the face today," Jay murmurs. "I'm fine. I'll grab ice-"
"I'll do it," she whispers. She takes a step forward out of the doorway, pressing her hand against his chest quickly before she turns and locks the door. She drops her bag onto the floor haphazardly before she grabs his hand and tugs him over to the couch.
"Hailey, it's okay," he tells her. "I can take care of it."
They've been at it all week and they are both tired and he thinks that the last thing she probably wants to be doing right now is helping him through yet another work injury. And for a second, he thinks she might take him up on his offer.
But she just raises an eyebrow at him, looking at him like he's ridiculous. She shakes her head and continues to lead him over to the couch, stopping him before they can sit down. He can see it in her eyes, the way she still cares even when she's frustrated. And he gets it because if the roles were reversed, all his frustration would melt away the minute he saw her hurt.
"Temporary truce?' She whispers, looking up at him with sad, hopeful eyes.
He doesn't even have the words to respond, so he just nervously swallows and nods. Jay sits down on the couch as Hailey runs into the bathroom to grab something. A second later, she comes back out, a bottle of pain meds in hand. She makes her way over to the kitchen and he can hear the opening and closing of the freezer and then, the turning on of the faucet.
It's so routine, the way she is trying to take care of him, and it almost feels like they are okay.
Hailey comes to sit beside him on the couch, a cup of water in one hand and the bottle of pills and a frozen bag of peas in the other. She plops the bag of peas on the coffee table and hands him the cup, Then, she unscrews the pain medication, handing him two pills.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" She whispers as he takes the pills from her and pops them in his mouth.
He takes a large gulp of water, swallowing the pills before he leans forward and puts the water on the small coffee table. "I wish it was a more interesting story but honestly, I was just trying to put cuffs on a guy, and he elbowed me in the face. Not really my finest moment."
Hailey chuckles softly and she raises her hand to inspect the bruise, fingers tentatively dancing over his cheek. "He got you pretty good….should we take you to
Med?"
Jay smiles at her little joke and shakes his head. Hailey reaches for the bag of peas and gently puts it on his cheek, Jay instinctively flinching at the cold touch.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Jay assures her. "That's good...thanks for this."
She flashes her eyes at him with a small little smile as she murmurs, "Yeah, well, worrying is still part of the deal."
Without a second thought, Jay reaches out and rests his hand on her thigh, rubbing it gently. She doesn't seem to withdraw at his touch, which he is thankful for. She continues to lean against his side, pressing the frozen bag of vegetables to his right cheek. It's silent, the tension palpable as they both wait for the other to say something, anything.
After a few moments, Jay notices Hailey biting her lip, her eyes darting away from his face.
"What?"
"Nothing," Hailey shakes her head. She tries to look past him and he notices tears starting to well in her eyes. He lifts his hand to his cheek and places his hand over hers, lowering the makeshift ice pack. He takes it from her without a fight and puts it on the coffee table next to his water.
"What's wrong?"
He watches as she tries to answer, mouth opening slowly, but she closes it, looking down sadly at her lap. Jay reaches over and grabs both of her hands, holding them firm in his against their legs.
"Hails, you can talk to me."
"We fight all of the time," Hailey breathes out. "And we're always working. I hate it."
She removes one of her hands from his and wipes away the few tears that are starting to fall. A little groan escapes her lips, the same one that does every time she allows herself to cry, and it's the thing that breaks Jay all the more.
"It was nine years last week," she whispers.
Jay looks at her in confusion, trying to think what was nine years ago. He does some quick mental math and suddenly, it hits him, and his face drops as he realizes what she is talking about.
"I remember the day I started at every new home," she continues when he doesn't respond. "And I remember I moved into Donovan's house on June 16. We met the next day. And for months I have wanted to do something nice because it's basically our anniversary and we're engaged now...but we've been working all of the time and fighting so much and…"
Her words get caught in her throat and she closes her eyes and swallows in an attempt to bury the feelings. When she opens her eyes, she looks at him, biting her cheek to stop it all from coming out, and Jay just reaches for her.
"Come here," he wraps his arm around her back and pulls her close to him on the couch. She buries her head in the space between his shoulder and chin and he can hear quiet sobs start to escape her lips. Hot tears fall on his skin, and it makes him start to tear up as well.
"I hate that we're always fighting," she mumbles against his neck. "This isn't us."
"I know," Jay whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as he tightens his grip on her. "I know, baby. I hate it too."
She turns her head so her forehead is resting against his neck, her face now out in the open and her eyes staring at his lap. "I don't get it. I don't get why we're always just snapping at each other."
Jay rubs his hand up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her but he knows it's useless. He sighs, stilling his hand and letting it come to rest on the back of her head. "It's been a rough couple of months. With me starting patrol and you working so many hours. I think we're both just overworked and tired."
"It's gonna get better when I'm done with the Academy, right?" She whispers and then she tilts her head up to look at him with hopeful eyes. "When we're not so busy anymore, we're gonna stop fighting all of the time, right?"
"Yeah," he breathes out, trying to convince himself as much as her. "We love each other. We can make this work."
She looks down and starts playing with the fabric of his shirt, picking at an invisible piece of lint. It's quiet for a moment before she looks up at him again. "I really do love you. And I think if anyone can make it work, it's us. I just don't like how these past few months have been."
"Neither do I," he says. "I'm sorry that I've been taking all the stress from work out on you."
She nods at his apology and it's obvious by the look on her face that she is thinking about something, but she doesn't say it. "I'm sorry too. I know I've been short with you a lot."
"We'll figure it out," Jay tells her. He raises his hand to wipe away a few of her tears before cupping her cheek. "We always figure it out. We've made it work even with the constant separation and being young and having like no money…"
She chuckles softly at the last part, the vibrations warm against his chest, and he smiles down at her. Unable to help himself, he presses a soft kiss to her forehead before he continues. "We've figured it all out. We can figure out the next few months too."
Hailey nods against him, but she still looks a little unsure. "We can't spend the next however many months arguing though. We're gonna end up hating each other before I even start the Academy."
"I could never hate you," he whispers. "Never."
She smiles at his words and grabs his hand off of her cheek, intertwining it with her fingers and resting their hands in her lap. "I know that. But you know what I mean. We can't just keep fighting, Jay."
"Okay," he says slowly. "So...we'll try to be better about actually talking about what's going on instead of just snapping at each other."
Her smile falls and Jay can feel her stiffen a little in his grasp. "Just talking...you think that will help?"
"We used to talk more," Jay reminds her. "When we first started dating and things weren't so hectic. I don't know if it will fix everything but it can't hurt, right?"
She looks hesitant and he thinks Jay knows why. If both of them are honest, talking about things has never been their strong suit. Even when things were good at the beginning of their relationship, it was easier to avoid problems with stolen kisses and romantic gestures. And as much as he loves those things, they don't fix the issues.
Kissing her does not fix the pain of her past and dancing in the kitchen does not change the horrors he saw overseas and the ones he sees on the streets of Chicago every day now.
And he hates talking about things but he loves her so, at the very least, they can try.
"Okay," she whispers at last. "We'll be better about talking about things, and we'll figure out a way to make this work. I want to make this work."
"Me too," Jay leans forward, resting his forehead against hers, giving her a moment to pull away if she wants. When she doesn't, he catches her lips with his, kissing her softly and reminding her that even on the hardest days, the way he feels about her will never change.
"I love you," he mumbles against her kiss. "I always have. And I always will."
He feels her smile against his lips, leaning back just enough so she can see him. "I'm supposed to say that second part."
"I know that," Jay murmurs. "But I just needed you to know."
"I know," she leans up and kisses him again, feather-light and over as soon as it starts. "I've always known. And I love you too. Always have, always will."
Jay smiles, kissing her lips again before kissing her cheek, then her forehead, and finally, placing a long, slow kiss on the top of her head as he wraps her up in his arms again. They stay on the couch for a while in simple silence, his one hand running up and down the curve of her spine and her playing with their interconnected hands in his lap. It's simple and comforting and it makes him think that they will actually figure this out.
They have figured out everything before. They can figure this out too.
They don't talk about it though. His nightmares. Her family. They don't talk about any of it.
It's not that they don't want to make it work or even that they don't try. It's that they are tired and they are overworked and they are scared. It's that neither of them ever learned vulnerability and if they did, they saw only the bad things that come from it. So, it becomes a pattern, a repetition of "I'm fine" and "I'm working late at the diner" and "I'll figure it out."
He stops reacting when she comes home and is clearly off, just shrugging his shoulders and letting her push him away. She starts believing the lies he tells her when he gets nightmares and she bites her tongue every time he comes home with liquor on his breath.
They don't know how it happens, but it slowly becomes him having more nightmares, becoming a little on edge, and her withdrawing a little more, becoming a little more reserved.
It's two sets of quiet and tired eyes just wanting to cry, wanting to fix it, but not knowing how.
Because fixing it requires talking. About the war in Afghanistan and in Chicago and in Hailey's home growing up. And that's painful, scary, vulnerable, not something either of them has ever learned to do.
So, they don't.
Reviews?