The driveway is narrow, but Britton insists on backing in anyways. We park under the huge willow tree, behind the white Audi Convertible. I walk up the flagstone walkway to the front door, and punch the code into the lock that doesn’t quite work anymore. I set my bag and shoes down on the stone entry-way flooring. Sheila has fresh sunflowers in a crystal vase by the door. The house smells like the candles she always lights. I run up the stairs and down the hallway to our room, Britton and I’s room. It’s very large, with aqua walls. A huge mirror in an ornate gold frame faces the wall across from the queen sleigh bed. The blue paisley duvet and 10 pillows call my name. I sink into the soft mattress. The sheets are the softest I have ever slept in, and cost more than I could ever afford. I love coming here.
In this bed, I could sleep for days.
This is so exactly what I need right now. The comfort of home, and the luxury to help me forget that all my troubles are a mere 15 minute walk away – lying in a bed in the ICU, giving away family heirlooms to a woman he’s known only for a year.
The bitter taste in my mouth spoils everything.