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.She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down on one of the stools at the counter.She looked almost as bad as he did, he thought.Her eyes had dark circles under them, they were puffy and bleary, as though she'd been crying too.Her hair was tangled, there were long, angry marks on one cheek from where she'd lay on creases in the pillowcase, and she still wore the same jeans and top she'd had on when she came home the night before.“Are you leaving?” He asked.“Probably.”“When?”“As soon as I can figure something out.”“Have you told the kids?”“No.”“I want to be there when you do.”“Okay.”“Okay.” There didn't seem to be anything left to say.Well, maybe one more thing.“Who is he?”23“Who is he?” he asked again when she didn't answer; louder, more demanding this time.“It's no one, Jake.There's no one.” Nora didn’t look at him.She just sat on the stool, her ankles crossed, her hands wrapped around the mug on the counter in front of her.She hadn’t even taken a drink.She didn’t look like she was lying this morning.“So you're not seeing anyone?” Why was he so quick to hope?“I'm not seeing anyone.” Then she turned lifeless eyes to him and added, “Not anymore.”Jake felt his heart stop, then suddenly jerk back into action.It pushed up against his throat until he thought he might explode.He leapt up and began pacing the floor.Not anymore.Not anymore.Not anymore.Her words throbbed inside his head to the rhythm of his footsteps.“Stop pacing, Jake.You're making me crazy.”“Making you crazy?” He stopped marching back and forth and stood, his feet apart, his arms akimbo at his sides.“I’m making you crazy?” His voice was trembling with rage.He could hardly believe she was making this about her.“Don't yell at me.” Even her voice sounded lifeless.She turned away and gazed out a window at the overgrown backyard.He wondered if she noticed that he'd neglected mowing it for a few weeks.“Stop pacing.Don't yell.Be quiet.All you do is give me orders, Nora.You know what? You have no right to tell me what to do.None, whatsoever.In fact, this is me telling you what to do.Get out.” He walked over to her pile of clothes, kicked at a tube of mascara with his bare foot, then bent over and started shoving things back into the suitcase.“I'll even help you pack.”His hand swept through the lotion that had spilled last night, and he realized too late the broken pieces of glass were still there, too.“Ouch!” he roared, angry at himself for not paying attention, frustrated that even while trying to be tough, he would appear weak and wounded to her.He carelessly pulled a large blue shard from his palm, then grabbed an item off the top of the pile in her bag, and pressed it against the bleeding wound.The silky fabric of the negligee slithered against his hand, and rather than absorbing his blood, it seemed to repel it.He tossed it away from him, repulsed by the sensation.It made him think of snakes.Jake looked up and found her watching him from her perch, unresponsive to either his anger or his injury.“Are you just going to sit there?”Nora turned away again without answering him.“Hello! Are you in there?” He raised a fist and knocked his knuckles against an imaginary surface.“What is wrong with you, Nora?” He stood up and kicked at the pile of clothes, scattering the things all over the entry again.“How could you do this to us? How could you?” Now he really was yelling.His voice broke embarrassingly, and he stormed down the hall toward the bathroom to wash his hands.More than the blood, he wanted to scrub the stench of her affair off his hands.The sultry fragrance suddenly turned rancid in his nostrils, and he barely made it to the toilet before he started gagging.He bent over the bowl as everything left from the night before came up, including the coffee he’d been drinking for the last two hours.Even when there was nothing more, his body continued dry-heaving, his hands clutching the vanity on one side and the edge of the bathtub on the other, leaving bloody hand-prints all over the white porcelain.His empty stomach still churned and growled, but straightening, he rinsed his mouth with water from the sink, the coppery tang of his blood mingling with the acid taste in his mouth.Then he slumped to the floor, his back to the wall, and looked down at his palm.For such a little puncture, it sure bled a lot.And hurt a lot.Or maybe it was just the gaping hole in his heart projecting pain to the wound in his hand.“Oh God, help me.Help me.Help me, Jesus.” They were the only words he could come up with, and he repeated them over and over again.Finally, he stood, washed his hands with soap and hot water, relishing in his pain, taking extra care to make certain he no longer smelled like Nora.Then he cleaned up the bloody prints he’d left all over the tub.By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Nora had returned all her things to the suitcase.It stood upright, propped against the open front door, her garment bag folded neatly in half, resting on top.The broken glass and lotion were gone, even the aroma seemed to be dissipating out into the world, although not quickly enough for him.Her boots were nowhere to be seen.Neither was Nora.Jake could see her car parked in the driveway, so he knew she was still here somewhere.He didn't know whether to look for her, or sit and wait for her to show up again.Apparently, she wasn't going to get out as he had demanded, and he didn’t know if he had it in him to force her out.He headed down the hall to their bedroom for a change of clothes, but as he pushed open the door, the smell of her perfume assaulted his senses and he felt his stomach roll.She’d slept in their bed while her body was drenched in her lover’s stench.He backed out and pulled the door closed behind him.He couldn't get away from it.As he made his way back down the hall, he glanced into the kids' bedrooms.Nora was lying on Leslie's bed on her side, her face turned toward the wall.She didn't act like she was aware of him, but he knew she was.He hadn't made any attempt to walk through the house quietly.“So does this mean you want to talk now?” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he taunted her from the doorway.“It’s a little late for words, Nor.”“What's there to talk about?” she responded, not looking at him.“Um.What's there not to talk about? Like what are we going to do with the kids? What are we going to do with the house? What are we going to do about the bills?”“Really, Jake? Do we have to hash all this out right now?” She brought her legs up to her stomach, as if the idea of dissecting their lives was repugnant to her.How did she do that so smoothly, turning words around to make the sharp edges point at him? Fine.Then he’d push from the other direction.“I don't know what we're waiting for.The kids are gone, you're already packed, and we're both here.What better time than now?”“I'm not going to talk to you about this right now, Jake
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