In a Fog
Henry jolted to a stop and sat at the intersection, the an running just below the surface. He found himself irritated at most everything as of late and that annoyed him even more. It was his third week back from Iraq, where he'd spent the last fourteen months. The light changed and he slammed his hand against the wheel, unable to advance due to the car that had inconveniently stopped in the middle of the intersection. He cursed under his breath. This shouldn't be something that bothered him, at least not at the level it was. He sat through that light cycle and was able to go on the next one.
Frustrated that he was running late, he whipped into three different drive thrus before he found one where there wasn't a long line. He ordered lunch for himself and Elizabeth and made his way to her office. As he pulled up, he gritted his teeth. She was already waiting outside. That meant her lunch hour had started. Elizabeth had been working late most nights and Henry felt like he had barely got to see her. Now because of some dumbass driver, he'd have even less time with her.
Elizabeth smiled as he pulled up. She opened the door as he came to a stop. "Traffic bad?" she asked, unassumingly.
Henry's frustration bubbled over as he launched into a tirade about people who cannot drive, slow drivers, the person who wasn't paying attention and blocked the intersection, the number of cars in the drive thru, how long he had to wait and more. He drove to the park nearby and held her captive in the car while he finished his rant. She said nothing, only biting her lip and keeping her eyes downcast until the proverbial storm blew over. Just as he finished and picked up the bags with the plan to get out, the sky opened up and unleashed a downpour-the proverbial storm, now a real one. "Fuck!" he yelled, slamming the side of his fist into the door panel. Elizabeth jumped, and Henry caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. He turned to look out the window, not wanting to make eye contact. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Henry," she said softly, reaching over to slip her hand under his, linking their fingers together.
"I know," he whispered. "I can't get rid of the anger. I can push it away for a while, but it always come back."
"You need to talk to me," she implored, not for the first time since he returned home.
"I can't talk to you," he said, his voice raised, pulling away from her.
"Then find someone else to talk to." She matched his volume and stared him down. Her eyes flashed angrily at him. Then she quieted, "I don't want you to go too far down this rabbit hole. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to get out."
Henry turned away from her and stared out the window, silently cursing himself for ruining their lunch. What had started out as a picnic in the park had turned into a yelling match and now they were stuck in the same stuffy space. The inside of the window started to fog up and Henry could no longer see the outside world. Now he was just staring at the fog. He grimaced. That had to be some sort of physical representation of his life.
Henry heard the rustling of paper behind him and felt the paper wrapped sandwich land on his leg. "You can still eat, even if you're mad at me," she mumbled, turning away from him.
Her words knocked the air out of him. The gravity of the situation weighed on him heavily. It took him a moment before he could get the words out. "I. Elizabeth, I-I'm not angry at you or because of you. You are the only thing holding me together."
She glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow before turning back to the window. "I'm doing a poor job of it." Her words were soft and laced with hurt, hurt that he had caused. When she swallowed the last bite of her sandwich, she wadded up the paper and shoved it in the bag. She said, "You can go ahead and take me back to work."
Henry opened his mouth to speak, but realized he had no words to say, nothing that would solve the problem. He dropped his head for a moment and then started the car and turned it back toward Elizabeth's office. He pulled up to the curb and she reached for the door handle. "Babe, wait," he started. She stopped, her hand resting on the handle.
Henry shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. Elizabeth turned and met his gaze. "I love you Henry, and I hate what this is doing to you. When you decide what I can do to help, let me know." She leaned in to kiss him and just as she got close, Henry shifted, so she only caught the corner of his mouth. He didn't feel worthy of her affection, but when he pulled back, he saw the devastation in her eyes. "I'll be late. You don't need to wait up." With that she was gone and walking up the steps into the building.