Apologies

She found him sitting on the couch, fingers clasped loosely around a beer can with his forearms resting on his knees, back hunched forward as his shirt shifted to reveal the nape of his neck. The lamps were off and the late light of the afternoon softly filled the room, emphasizing the lines of his face and obscuring the days’ growth on his jaw. His shadow stretched out across the coffee table before him, crawling its way forward as if to escape him. It was quiet in the apartment except for the sounds of his breathing, the tick of the clock, and the music echoing faintly from her daughter’s room down the hall. She unbuttoned her coat, slid the closet door open with a creak and rustled around for a coat hanger. Finding none free, she hung her coat overtop of his and shut the door. She removed an envelope from her purse and placed the bag on the entrance table.

He made no sign that he’d noticed her presence.

“Rough day?” she quipped as she bent down to remove her shoes.

“I want you to stop.” Her hand slowed midair, fingers resting on the heel of her stiletto as the shoe dangled half off her foot. She slowly slid the shoe back on and stood there waiting, one hand on her hip and the envelope in the other, saying nothing.

“I want you to stop. This.” he repeated, his head still bowed. “I can’t take it anymore.”

The silence stretched across the room, as neither of them moved. There was only the soft buzz of insects from outside the window and the ting of aluminum as he lowered the can onto the coffee table.

She looked around the room, at the worn upholstery of the sofa, the baskets of unfolded laundry next to the coffee table, the TV remote with the dead batteries lying next to it. The dishes were unwashed in the sink, yesterday’s pasta still in the pot on the stove and the piles of unpaid bills growing on the kitchen table. A growing trail of broken toys abandoned in the dust on the floor wound its way down the hall to her daughter’s bedroom.

The sound of bare feet on the cold tile floor echoed its way down the hall and her daughter poked her head around the wall. “Mommy, you’re home!” her daughter exclaimed as she ran towards her and latched her small, skinny arms around her legs, almost ripping her nylons in the process. She slowly ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, untangling the knots and gently shushing her as the girl kept talking. She lifted her daughter up onto her hip, even though the child was getting to be much too big to do it anymore.

He made no sign that he noticed the girl, except for the slight tightening of his fingers on the can. She turned to face her daughter and took stock of her hair, the dirt on her face and the rip in her pajama bottoms at the knee.

“Did you have a good day at school?” she asked.

“I didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Daddy wasn’t awake to take me.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” the girl nodded, “I made myself toast for breakfast. Just like you showed me.” She brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes and licked her fingers to wipe the smudge off her face, despite the girl’s protests.

“Did you put the toaster away after you were done?” The girl nodded. “Good job. Now why don’t you go start the bath for me? Do you remember how to turn on the tap?” And when the girl nodded, she gently lowered her off of her hip and watched her race away down the hall to the bathroom, kicking her dolls into the wall in the process as she ran by.

She turned back to face him. “Did you find a job yet?” she asked. And when he said nothing, she reached down to remove her shoes once more.

He raised his head as she approached him, squatting down so she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and heavy with alcohol and a lack of sleep. His clothes were the same ones he’d worn yesterday and the day before. His hair was uncombed and the angles of his face sharp. She swallowed and turned her eyes away from him.

She ran her fingers over the edge of the envelope in her hands. “I’ll put this on the table,” she said. “There should be enough for rent and to buy groceries tomorrow.” She stood up and walked past the sofa. She placed the envelope down next to the pile of the bills and turned to leave the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She paused at the doorway and looked back. She smiled weakly but said nothing.

He was still sitting there long after she’d gone to bathe, her daughter’s voice echoing down the hall.