The Argument

“I have a gut feeling and I can’t explain it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You know exactly what that means, Andrew.”

“No, I don’t know what that means, Silas.”

“God you’re insufferable.”

“Me? I’m the insufferable one?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“It’s a feeling—”

“Always with the feelings.”

“I cannot explain this again to—”

“For the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

“Will you shut up for one second?”

“I have had enough shutting up for an entire lifetime.”

“Are you mad?”

“Oh my god, Silas.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I am trying, Silas. I have been trying for months. I can’t keep running myself into the ground because you had a feeling. I can’t keep the two jobs I have to pay our rent while you sit around and get a fucking feeling. I am exhausted. I have been exhausted.”

“I probably should get a job, that’s fair.”

“That’s what you took away from that?”

“No, I—”

“This isn’t working, Silas. This… this thing we have? I used to love it. It used to be my favorite thing. I loved hearing about your day. About the feelings. They were my quick break between shifts and I loved them. I even told Barbara about it. She thought you were nuts and I defended you. And now… now I get it. You are fucking nuts.”

“Woah, okay.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No, fuck that. Fuck you for saying that. Barbara sucks. We both know she’s the worst and complains about everything in her life and has nothing better to do with her day besides gossip and talk bullshit with her friends who don’t even like her and you’re going to fucking stand there and tell me that she was right? No. Fuck you for that.”

“Silas, I’m just—”

"Also you shouldn't call people nuts, it's rude."

"That's fair."

“And also, nobody told you to get two fucking jobs, Andrew. You do realize that right?”

“Excuse you?”

“You’re excused.”

“I had to get two jobs because one of us is jobless and broke and our rent is too fucking high.”

“You should’ve just told me to get a job.”

“What!”

“Yea, you—”

“No shut the fuck up real quick. Did you not hear me the first time I said our rent was too high? How about the time when I came home from the grocery store with only fucking pasta? Literally not even sauce, Silas. Just noodles. Or the gift I gave you on your birthday which was a fucking scrapbook project made from old magazines that came from your sister’s house? You didn’t hear me then? Nothing?”

“I liked the scrapbook thing.”

“Are you actually this dense?”

“I was in G.A.T.E. you prick.”

“Holy shit.”

“Look, what I was trying to say—”

“Oh boy, can’t wait for this.”

“If you were so worried about money, you could’ve just told me.”

“Silas… I did tell you. Many times.”

“I mean like, actually tell me. Say, ‘Hey money is super tight and I need help here.’”

“Had I known the G.A.T.E kid needed more than all my fucking context clues—”

“I was better at math.”

“Your bank account begs to differ.”

“My bank account is fine.”

“Really? Then where’s the rent money?”

“Like I said, had you asked me—”

“I can’t do this again.”

“I would’ve paid the rent for us.”

“With what job, Silas? With what fucking income are you paying our rent?”

“With whatever job I needed to get! I would’ve started an OnlyFans if I knew money was that fucking tight! I would’ve sold some of my shit or talked to Jess about the opening she has at work or sent a text to my mom or literally any number of things to make sure we were okay. I’m sorry if I didn’t realize it sooner…”

“Like before now?”

“…and I’m sorry if you feel neglected…”

“Neglected?”

“…but I didn’t know, okay?”

“Neglected?”

“I know you’ve been stressed—”

“Right, so, now that you know, everything will change and be better and we’ll get rent paid and you’ll get a job from Jess and life will continue onward through fields of strawberries and fucking rainbows, yea? That’s what you think is next for us?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, it’s what you implied. It’s called context—”

“Clues. Yea, I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Where’s your fucking feeling now?”

“I can’t believe you don’t like them anymore.”

“Silas. Look. It’s almost 2 am. I am…”

“Exhausted.”

“…exhausted. We have had the same iteration of this fight for months. Probably longer in my head.”

“What?”

“Yes, this fight has been going on forever. And I am so tired.”

“Wait, what do you mean probably longer in your head?”

“I mean—”

“You’ve always hated this.”

“That’s not what—”

“No we should probably get it all out there now.”

“Silas.”

“You’re telling me that since the moment we met each other…”

“No.”

“…that you’ve always hated that I had feelings? And hated that I didn’t have a job? And hated… what, me?”

“Can we go back to the OnlyFans thing?”

“Why did you even move in here? Why did you ask me to move in here?”

“Look, I—”

“You’re the one that doesn’t fucking communicate with me, Andrew. That’s on you, that’s not on me. I’ve tried being there for you in the ways that I can, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me you need help. I can’t help us if I don’t know what’s wrong with us. And just because you were so un-fucking-willing to talk to me since apparently you hated me this entire time, it doesn’t mean you get to blame this shit storm on me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t fucking hate you.”

“Yea.”

“Will you shut up for one second?”

“I seem to remember me telling you that about 10 minutes ago.”

“Look, I don’t hate you. That’s not what I meant. That’s not even remotely close to what I was saying. This fight – our fights – it’s all we ever do. And even before we started fighting, it was just fighting between the lines. You leave a robe on the ground. I forget to do dishes. The mail doesn’t get picked up for a week…”

“Fuck, I forgot the mail.”

“…but I don’t hate you. I feel like we’ve just been stuck for a long time.”

“I didn’t see it as stuck.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what would you call this? Us?”

“I would’ve called it fine. I thought we were fine. I wasn’t mad about the dishes. Or the mail that we should get when we’re done here. I mean, I knew you weren’t the same as when we first started dating. I just thought it was normal stuff. I thought it was work. I thought it was family. I thought it was a million other things. But I didn’t think it was us. Me.”

“We weren’t fine.”

“Yea I can see that now.”

“I wasn’t fine.”

“Clearly.”

“I am just…”

“Exhausted.”

“…exhausted.”

“I know.”

“Can we just wait until tomorrow to finish this?”

“It is tomorrow.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m starting to realize I may not.”

“Silas.”

“Look, here’s where I’m at. I would like to fix this. Us. I don’t know how to do that, or if I even can do that, if you’re not willing to talk to me about it.”

“We have been talking about it, Silas. I am unhappy.”

“But are you unhappy because of me? Work? Family?”

“Let’s say D, all of the above.”

“Okay, I was hoping it was B.”

“It is B.”

“Oh, okay!”

“And A.”

“Oh.”

“And C.”

“Right, okay.”

“That’s why I said D.”

“Got it.”

“You were in G.A.T.E.?”

“Math, remember?”

“Right.”

“Okay, so what can I start doing to make you not unhappy?”

“Well… I think we can start with listening to the words that I’m saying.”

“And brush up on my context clues, got it.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Communicate with me, Andrew.”

“Maybe get a job.”

“Sure, yea, that’s on my internal list of things to do tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow.”

“Today.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Can I tell you what I need from you?”

“Sure.”

“First…”

“A list. Joy.”

“I need you to start telling me when you’re upset about something. Whatever it is, just tell me. That way I can do what you need – listen – and we won’t be having this same fight.”

“Great.”

“Second, I might need some help figuring out how to prop my phone on the desk so it faces the bed at the right angle.”

“That’s not the job I envisioned.”

“Yea, yea, yea, it’s a joke.”

“Also, most people hold it while they—”

“Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Goodnight, Silas.”

“Wait.”

“For the love of all that is good.”

“Don’t get mad.”

“I cannot promise that.”

“I have… uh…”

“To pee? Go.”

“No. It’s… uh…”

“Oh my god don’t.”

“I have a feeling and I can’t explain it.”

“Silas!”

“Oh, you know what? We need to get the mail.”