Part Two

As I got closer to my apartment on the commute home, I grew more anxious and nauseous. What would be waiting for me? I'm making good time, what do I do if I make it home before him? I slid my key in the lock and found the apartment open. He was home, earlier than usual.

The TV was loud and as he walked in from the balcony, I thought he said something to me. "Huh?" I articulated.

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh, must have been the TV." Pause. "Well, hello."

"Hello," he responded equally as flatly.

I nervously put my bag on the counter as he tossed some papers in the trash. When I thought he approached me, I reached to hug him like I always do. Instead he picked up some wrappers off the counter and I looked like an idiot. Awkwardly, we hugged. Whereas I embraced, he patted my back: a sign he doesn't want contact with me. My stomach sank.

"We have to talk you know," he said.

It sank even lower. "I know," I compensated.

Then he went back outside to smoke a cigarette and presumably think about his upcoming speech. I changed out of my work clothes and specifically didn't put on my pajama bottoms. If I was going to run out of the apartment sobbing, it wasn't going to be in pajama bottoms; it would be with more dignity in blue jeans.

When he never came back in, I joined him outside on the balcony. I took the seat opposite him at the table. "Can I start?" I asked. Normally how this goes is that he lectures me with everything we both did wrong and how we both need to behave in the future. But I didn't want to be lectured to, and I wasn't sure we were going to have that conversation.

"Yesterday was awful," I began.

"Yes, it was," he puffed.

"And I'm sorry for everything I did wrong." (Notice how I didn't draw the line at what I did wrong--that was on purpose.) "It shouldn't have escalated to that. I don't like myself when I get to that point; I don't like myself at all. However, the issue I think we were arguing about, which is essentially being more courteous to each other, is totally fixable. That, in my head, is an easy fix. But the way we fought about it is not fixable. I am accountable for my actions last night and I am willing to take whatever steps I need to to keep myself in check from getting that angry in the future." (Again, vague.)

He nodded, obviously liking my impromptu attempt to convey let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. I avoided my lecture from him and Scott went directly into his apology. Notably he apologized for bucking up on me. "I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted you to shut up, but I was so angry, I couldn't even form the words."

"Well being aggressive to me like that only antagonized me more."

"It is never okay for me to do that to you, and I want you to know that I would never touch you. If anything, I thought you were going to strike me. You get mean when you get angry."

I made a face at the thought of punching him; it never even crossed my mind.

"No, I mean, you get mean," he emphasized.

"I know," I shrugged, thinking back to my laughing in his face and telling him I wasn't afraid of him when he bucked up at me. Asking him did he feel like a man yet. Did his cock feel larger. Years of my mother insulting me taught me to be sharp-tongued. I always wondered if it affected other people the way my mother affected me. I had my answer.

"And I know I'm a downright asshole when it comes to waking me up. That's something I recognize and something I will try to work on," he continued.

We spoke back and forth for a bit, negotiating the first peace treaty of '08. He told me he called Annoying Neighbor after I left to go to my sister's and asked if he could move in. He told me he would if I really wanted him to, but he didn't want to move out. I gathered from his talking that he is in fact a better bluffer than I am, and never planned on breaking up last night, even when the fight was over and he didn't want to talk to me. He never planned on actually moving out until I bailed on him and left him for my sister's. Even then, it was a backup plan because I showed him how serious I was over it.

I also learned that he didn't go to work that day. He was so stressed over our fight that he threw up all day. I did my best not to outwardly smile--my man must really love me if he was physically ill over our fight. He must be emotionally invested. I remembered what his sister told me that morning: that when it came to personalities, she got the man's one and he got the woman's one. He's a sensitive soul, she said.

She called me again this morning to see how things were going. I told her how he apologized for everything she said he should have. I told her how I learned this morning that my craziness that night could be attributed to PMS. She laughed and was happy that things are worked out.

Now all that's left is to break the news to Annoying Neighbor. Surely he will be disappointed.