It has no meaning beyond walls and windows and doors.
“What do you want me to see? It’s a perfect fucking house to go with your perfect fucking life!” “Shut up for two fucking seconds and listen to what I have to say.” He points at the glass, and I can see straight through to the darkness on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows that must make up the back of the house.
Then he puts me down right in front of the door. He lifts me out of the SUV and carries me toward his perfect freaking house while I beat on his shoulders. “I want to go home! You said you’d take me home.”īut he doesn’t stop. I slap at his hands as he unbuckles my seat belt.
He rounds the hood and opens the passenger door. “Take me home,” I tell him, my voice creeping toward shrill. Instead of backing out of the driveway, Lincoln kills the engine, unbuckles his seat belt, and opens his door. And I can’t keep having your perfect fucking life shoved in my face to show me just how screwed up mine is!” Tears stream down my face, and I don’t care if I sound completely and utterly hysterical. The goddamned black widow who killed someone by trying to divorce him!” But instead of making her wedding dreams come true, I’ve made everything worse. I came home because Cricket begged me and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. “You don’t get what it’s like to never be able to do anything right! For everything you try to fix to go horribly wrong instead. For some reason, that puts me over the edge.
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