The Walls Are About Us

“You've reached Jaxon, leave a message.”

I sigh and put down the phone, only to pick it up again.

Ellis: He still isn't answering his phone

Maz: Let him have his temper tantrum. He'll come back

Maz is right, he usually does. He'll storm out, slam the door, and go for a walk or something to clear his head. He's never been gone this long before, though.

Maz: He just needs to torture you a little more with the silent treatment

This is why I'm not supposed to talk to you, I think. Mazin's always been critical of Jaxon, which he obviously didn't like. He was polite at the beginning, but after I told Maz about a few of our fights, he got colder with my boyfriend. Jaxon definitely felt that, and I was stuck in the middle.

“You're hanging out with someone who hates me. If you actually loved me, you'd stop talking to him.” I did love Jaxon, so I cut back on talking to Maz. We only see each other in group settings now, which thankfully Jaxon tolerates. I don't really text him anymore, except for when my boyfriend goes missing for 6 hours.

Maz: Sorry, that was rude. But also true. Just take care of yourself tonight, he's a big boy and can handle himself. Enjoy your quiet apartment

Ellis: You're right, thanks. I'll keep you posted

He thumbs up reacts to my message, and I'm left in my empty apartment.

Maz is right, I could do some self-care. It's been a while since I've had time to do my full routine. It might take my mind off of things.

A bath seems like a good place to start, until I look in the tub. Jaxon clearly shaved down there before he asked for sex, and he didn't do a very good job cleaning up. He was still a little damp when I got home, he must have literally just finished. It's not like he had time to clean up between our fight and him leaving.

I don't have the energy to properly clean that, and I don't want to bathe with pubes, so I guess I'll stick to a skin care routine. I still haven't figured out a new one after Jaxon asked me to not replace my old products. They were really expensive, and took up a whole drawer. Now I just have a few creams and cleansers, because the hand soap wasn't cutting it. Jaxon was actually concerned the first time he saw me break out. “What's wrong? Are you stressed or sick?” He bought me these new products, because it's important that I take care of myself. He still comments when I break out, sometimes accuses me of not using the face creams he buys, but I do! They just don't work super well.

I squeeze some foam into the palm of my hand and dab it along my cheeks. It stings just a little, like in the good way where you know it's working. I work all the open areas of my face, but lean in close to the mirror to get around my eyes and mouth. I know this shit burns if it gets too close.

Applying it this time is grating, and I can't figure out why until I stop focusing on my face. The mirror is so dirty, toothpaste and watermarks practically coat it. Jaxon was supposed to deal with that a few days ago. What else has he not cleaned in the bathroom, despite saying he did?

I give up doing precision work and wash the cleanser off in the sink. Jaxon's been really busy. I should have just cleaned it up, but I didn't even notice until now. I clearly don't use my face cream enough anymore. Jaxon was right.

I feel like my self-care attempts are being thwarted by Jaxon and he's not even here. He's made remarks in the past when he gets home after storming out.

“I've spent hours thinking about how to save our relationship, and you've just been relaxing? I'm not worth even a little bit of effort?”

I'm never ‘just relaxing.’ I've usually spent a few hours stress cleaning, texting him I'm sorry, and over-analyzing everything we argued about. By the time he gets home I've burned all that energy, and I'm watching something stupid to distract myself. Jaxon doesn't get to distract himself, though. When he walks to blow off steam he's still stuck with his thoughts. I get why he's irritated when he comes home.

It occurs to me that I haven't really eaten. I got home at 5, and instead of having dinner ready, Jaxon wanted me to eat something else. Then we argued, he stormed out, and now it's somehow past midnight. Where did the time go?

I'm not in the mood to cook, so I settle on opening and closing different cupboards, hoping either the Gods will bless me with a home-cooked meal, or there will be a snack I can grab and take to the couch. Checking the fridge is equally fruitless. The freezer provides, though. I grab an almond vanilla ice cream bar and feel a pang of guilt.

Jaxon had specifically asked me to get the classic version of this ice cream bar, just vanilla and chocolate. I wasn't paying attention while grocery shopping and grabbed the wrong box.

“I never ask for anything. You can't even do something simple for me? You know I hate almonds!” He slammed the box into the freezer.

“I'm sorry, I didn't look! It was busy and I just grabbed a box.” I thought for a second, and then said something stupid. “Weren't you eating almonds the other day?” That was another night he stormed out, but he was only gone for 2 hours then.

My almond vanilla bar is broken in the wrapping. I don't even want to grab a bowl to put it in, so I just slurp it off the wrapper, cold cream dripping down the side of my hand. Dinner's been dealt with.

I don't feel like I can just sit down yet so after washing my hands I just pace. It burns some energy, and I can do little things to tidy as I go around. Pacing makes Jaxon nervous, and I'm not great at intentionally cleaning a space, so this is kind of the only time I have to do things my way.

Books that have been sitting out for weeks go back on the shelves. I don't think he's been reading anything, but what if he has been? He'd be pissed if I put it away. Most of the books come back off of the shelf and into a pile beside the chair.

I turn on some music on the tv, just for some background noise. It's weird to hear my music coming out of the tv and not my headphones. Jaxon finds my tastes ‘shallow’ and ‘uninspiring’ but I think my music is great. It's upbeat and fun; it makes cleaning easier, and is great hype music for literally any task, whether it's driving to work or getting ready for a night out.

I put all of the books back on the shelf. If he's reading something, and I doubt he even is, he can get it back from the bookshelf, where the books go. It's not that much of an inconvenience. He has to walk past the bookshelf to get to his reading chair anyways!

I'm trying not to be too loud so our neighbours don't hate me, but a song or two into my playlist I start to hum. I bounce a little and mouth the words as I unload the dishwasher. Even though I can't sing at all, I join in with the chorus while I tie the garbage bags closed. Jaxon says my voice is screechy, but it's not bad if no one can hear it, right?

The only chore left that I can do is folding and putting away laundry. Vacuuming will have to wait until morning. I turn off the tv and dim the lights, so that Jaxon can see when -if- he comes home tonight.

There's no music playing, but I still hum away. Normally I dread this task which is why the laundry has just been sitting in the corner for five days, but now it feels leisurely. I can take my time. I think I'm starting to get what Maz meant when he said ‘enjoy your quiet apartment.’

I've been slacking on laundry, so my drawers are completely empty, or so I think. At the bottom of the sock drawer is my framed degree. It's rare I go through all of my laundry, so I never really see this. I take it out before dumping the clean socks back in.

Once the clothes are put away I can finally feel myself start to wind down. I grab the frame off the bed to put away, but take a quick glance. Finishing my undergrad took a few more years than I planned, but I was so proud that day. I was so excited to bring my diploma home and show Jaxon, who couldn't come because he was working nights back then. He was proud of me too, and gave me a hug as soon as he woke up.

The reason this is in my sock drawer is that Jaxon didn't want it up on the wall. “Our walls should be about us, not as individuals. I don't have a diploma to put beside yours, there's nothing to weigh it out. It makes you look conceited. You don't want our friends to think that, right?” I sure didn't, so the diploma stayed off the wall. I did have it propped up on my desk for a little while. I don't remember when it migrated to the sock drawer.

I prop the frame back up on my desk. When I lay down in bed I take off my glasses. I can't read what it says anymore, but I know it's there. Maybe I'll actually hang it above my desk tomorrow.

Should all of the walls be about ‘us?’