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Part 4

He'd been fine at 6:30. He'd sat in front of the t.v. and played NBA Shootout 2003 on his Playstation like every other night. He tried not to think about her or the impending conversation they were going to have, and just focused his mind on the digital Shaq in front of him. It had worked well, until he looked at the clock again and saw that it read 7:02, and she wasn't at home yet. That's when he started to get restless, started to pace more than usual, felt the need to get a glass of water, and then another. He turned off the Playstation, began flipping channels, couldn't find anything remotely entertaining and so decided to just turn off the t.v. completely.

At 7:15 he snatched up his cell-phone to make sure he hadn't missed any calls in the last hour. There was one from his mom at 2:36, and one from Tim at 5:15, but nothing from Haley. He considered calling her, asking where the Hell she was, but realized at his current state right now talking to her on the phone like an angry housewife, might just make things worse rather than better. He set the phone down and paced some more, walked back to his bedroom and looked around. His clothes were strewn about everywhere, but in the hamper. His bed was unmade and the sheets were wrinkled. There was nothing of interest to him in his bedroom when he was alone, so he went back out into the front. In the kitchen he noticed how the dishes were piled up in the sink and there was a distinct smell of sour milk coming from somewhere beneath the tower. He considered doing them and shuddered. He went back to the couch.

"Sorry I'm late," Haley said an instant later, when she breezed through his door, obviously looking a little worse for wear and out of breath. "My Dad said I could use the car tonight, but he didn't get off work until late."

"It's cool," he said like it was no big deal and wondered when he'd reverted back to this stage of irreverence to her.

She didn't seem to notice his indifference too much though. At least she didn't lead him to believe she was bothered by it. Instead she went over and set her bag on top of the kitchen counter, her eyes grazing over the dirty kitchen sink, the untouched dishes, the random clothes scattered over the sofa, and she winced.

"So what did you do today," she simply asked and went into the small kitchen, began picking the dishes and placing them in the sink, giving him her annoyed look as she proceeded to pick up his mess, right in front of him, while he sat on the couch.

Nathan watched her do this, and tried not to be frustrated that the first thing she did when she came in was go straight for the mess, as apposed to him.

"Uh, went to the gym, played some ball with Tim, nothin' much," he shifted in his seat uncomfortably, stared at the back of her head as she nodded in acknowledgment. "You?"

"Ran some errands for my Mom, and did laundry. Which by the way, you need to do."

"I know," he slumped back into the sofa. He didn't want to talk about things they needed to get done. It was boring, and no matter how much cleaning you did, there was always more the next day. So what was the point really? He'd just rather leave it for later.

"I think you ran out of detergent to, so you should pick some up."

"Ok," he nodded again, and she could feel her eye beginning to twitch. Every time she brought up anything remotely having to do with his apartment, he decided to take a private vacation to Disneyland inside his brain. She knew for the most part Nathan was a responsible guy, at least that's what she'd seen of him in the time that they'd been together. But lately, even the mention of doing minor tasks, caused him to check out completely. It was irritating beyond comprehension.

"Or I could pick it up. It doesn't really matter," she offered, giving him some leeway, hoping that maybe that would perk him up. She turned to him, and waited for him to answer, but he wasn't really listening.

He didn't want to talk to her if all she was going to continue to do was bombard him with more of her chores. He was starting to feel like she was more of his mother than his wife, and no 16 year old male, married or not, should ever feel that way about his significant other. It was starting to mess with his head.

"Ok," he answered again, his eyes fixated on the blank t.v. screen before him.

"I think you should call the Super as well, because the bathroom sink is clogging up again, and it's really gross," she didn't like having to makes lists for Nathan. She never asked to be the adult in their relationship, but Nathan refused to do any of these things, which either left her to do it, or asking him to do it.

"Alright," he groaned, irritated and ready for this conversation to be over.

"Will you do it tomorrow," she prodded some more, wanting to make sure it would really get done.

"I said I would, didn't I," he snapped at her unconsciously, and she stopped what she was doing in the kitchen. She threw the dishtowel she was holding on the counter and came up to him on the couch. Her mouth was tight, and her eyes were tired.

"Yeah, you said you would last time too Nathan, but it never got done."

He sat up on the couch and waved his arms out restlessly. "Jesus Haley! It's not the end of the world if the sink doesn't get unclogged this week."

She stepped back at his outburst, not out of fear, but shock. "Why are you getting so upset?"

"Because! You ask me everything five times and it's annoying as Hell," he answered, his voice a little softer, but the anger in his face was still prevalent.

Haley picked up on it quickly, but didn't let it deter her. She had a purpose for the reason she asked them these things. It's not like she got any joy out of talking about detergent and congested bathroom sinks.

"Well I only ask you five times, because otherwise it won't get done."

Nathan rolled his eyes, and stood up, walking around her. "It's not like I have all day to sit around and do this shit. I've got other things to do," he emulated, like he was the most important person in the room.

"What, and I don't? Just because I don't play basketball doesn't mean I'm not busy either."

"I didn't say you weren't."

"Yeah but that's what you meant right," she challenged, and he turned to her, defiance written all over his body. He hated when she said things like that to him. Mostly because he didn't have any retort to it. She had hit him right on the nose. She was right, and he had nothing to say.

"Whatever, forget I even said anything," he tried to brush her off, and began heading back to his bedroom.

Haley couldn't believe his audacity to just walk away from their argument like that. Did he really not care anymore? Was that what it had come down too now? When he was tired of talking he would just walk out of the room? It made Haley sick to her stomach to think that this was what they had turned into.

"Nathan!" She called out to him, and he stopped. At first she thought he might lash out at her again but, he didn't his body was drained, and so was his head. He couldn't do this, not anymore. He wouldn't.

"I'm not gonna stand here and fight with you all night," he stated, his voice quiet but clear.

Haley's throat constricted for the second time that day, her body tensing up. She hated when he talked to her like that. As if everything felt pointless because there was nothing worth saving between them.

"I don't want to fight with you Nathan. I just want a straight answer. I feel like all we do lately is ignore each other or try to act polite. What does it mean?"

Nathan shrugged, and turned. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything Haley. Why are you being so dramatic?"

"Why are you pretending nothing's wrong here," she blew out at him, amazed that he could so easily brush aside all of their obvious problems. It was such a Scott thing to do, and she knew to well were that lead.

"I'm not," he argued at her question. "I'm just saying, if we don't make this into something big then it won't be," he pointed between them.

Haley treaded to him down the hall until she was standing in front of him, but she didn't reach out to him like she usually would. Stood close enough to feel his warmth and that was all. She lowered her voice and caught his eyes with hers. "No, that's called avoidance Nathan, and denial, and it only makes things worse."

Completely resigned, Nathan stepped back until he was near the wall and rested his head against it, closing his eyes in defeat, not sure what she wanted from him. He sighed long and heavy. "What do you want me to do Haley, because I'm at a loss here? Everything I'm saying is wrong, so why are you even asking me?"

She lowered her head, looked down at her feet, feeling just as small and lost. "I don't have the answeres either you know? I wish I did."

"So are you angry because I don't have the answers, or you don't," he asked her, staring down at her.

Haley shook her head. Could feel a cry ready to burst out of her throat, but choked it back. "I don't—I'm not angry Nathan."

"Then what are you Haley? Tell me please," he asked. He reached out slowly and ran his finger tips along her arm, first touching the fabric of her T-shirt, until he moved his hand farther down till reached her skin.

Involuntarily she leaned into his touch, so that she was lightly resting her head against his chest. Her arms where stiff at her side, even though she wanted to wrap them around him. She knew if she gave in completely, let herself fall into him, that then she really would cry. And she couldn't let herself do that. Because when he asked her why she was so upset, she wouldn't have a real reply for him, she wouldn't have a solution.

"I don't know. I just.....I don't know," was her only answer.

Nathan stayed still waiting for something else, some revelation or epiphany to happen to him, that would help him solve all of his problems and make everything better. It never came though, like he knew it wouldn't, and so he dropped his hand from Haley's arm, and pulled her body into his until he could rest his chin on top of her head. He listened to her breathing and felt her arms begin to come around his middle after a few minutes. Heard soft sobs break from her mouth and felt her tears wet his shirt. He thought about what would happen tomorrow and the day after that, and what it might bring. He tried to focus on some kind of resolution, but found he couldn't find one. So he came back to the reality he was in, and held his wife tightly in his arms, thought about telling her how much he loved her. But didn't. He figured some things, some times, were better off not said.