The Accidental Wife (Emily and Julian)

"Silas, we need to talk." I look up from my phone and find Rosie in front of me. When did she get back from work?

45%

"About what?" I lazily ask. I'm not in the mood to talk at all. I don't feel like talking about anything. I told myself I was going to drink one can of beer, but I don't know what made me drink three instead.

"Your state." Her answer is short and her tone is stern. It's rare for Rosie to act like that, so she must be pretty pissed off.

"What's wrong with my state?" I ask, attempting to sit up.

"Are you really asking?" She scoffs and I roll my eyes. I don't have the energy to fight with her.

"Yes, Rosie. And I think it would be better if you say whatever you want to say and get it over with," I mutter and I think her eyes go wide for a moment. Is it because I don't usually talk to her in that way? Maybe she should get used to the new version of me.

"You came home drunk last night, which made it the third time you came home drunk in one month. Apparently, that wasn't enough for you because here you are, drunk before it's even seven. What the hell are you trying to do to yourself?" She snaps and I inhale. Goodie good Rosie will never understand what I'm going through. She doesn't understand how hard being unable to do the thing you love the most is and it's all because of a charity game. I was trying to do something good for sick kids and that's how I got repaid. I thought karma was fair. Why hasn't it been fair to me? What have I done to deserve that?

"I'm trying to adapt," I mutter, looking away from her. I don't want to meet her gaze. I cannot handle the look of disappointment I know I will see if I look into her eyes.

"Adapt to what exactly?" My wife sounds genuinely confused.

"To my new reality, Rosie!" I raise my voice at her, which is something I'm not really proud of.

"Stop with the goddamn self-pity! This is not your new reality! This is temporary! Why can't you understand that?" Rosie raising her voice? Now this is a first, I guess I have just brought out the worst in her.

"Says the girl who pushed everyone away and chose a douche over the man who was willing to do anything for her when she lost her memory." The moment I utter these words I regret them. I have stooped too low. I take a look at her face and I become sure that I have made a deep wound. "Rosie, I didn't mean that." I try to stand up but fail. I don't know if this is because of my knee or how drunk I am. Nevertheless, the result is still the same.

"At least your recovery is certain, Silas. Mine never was," she quietly says before leaving me in the living room.

I call her name more than once, but she doesn't stop or turn around. I try to get up again and it takes me time to finally stand up.

My movement is already slow because of the surgery and although the cane helps, it doesn't bring me back the movement I have permanently lost. Being drunk is also slowing me down, but I need to make it to our bedroom. I need to apologize to her. When I make it to the door of our bedroom, I try to get inside, desiring nothing but to fix what I have done; however, the door is locked.

"Rosie, open the door, please," I plead. How could I do this to her? Why did I have to throw something from more than five years ago at her like that? What was I thinking? "Rosie, I'm so sorry, cupcake. Open the door and let us talk."

No matter how many times I beg her to open it, she doesn't answer. All that I can hear from behind the door is her muffled cries.

I slide against the door and listen to my wife's cries. I groan loudly, feeling the urge to break something.

45%

What have I done? What was I thinking? Why am I treating her like a punching back? This is the girl that I love, for the love of God! This is the girl I spent years loving in silence. She is the one who has my heart. Why am I doing this to her? What I have just done is enough to sober me up, but I need to drown myself in liquor. I need to put an end to that pain.

But when Rosie gets out of the room- because she'll eventually get out- I don't want her to see me drunk. I don't want to disappoint her more. I don't want to see her looking at me with disappointment. I can't take letting her down. She doesn't deserve that from me. What am I supposed to do?

How do I fix this mess?

Last time, I took her on a date, but I have a strong feeling that a date won't be sufficient. I need to do something thoughtful. Should I stop drinking for her sake? No, I can't stop drinking. I don't want to be connected to reality in any way. Yes, time is passing by, but it is very slow and I cannot take the state I'm in anymore. Time becomes so slow when you want it to pass. I don't think I have the needed strength to just be patient and wait for this period of my life to be over. The season is going strong and the team is making great progress. I should be with them, but I can't. I can't even climb a flight of stairs without feeling the need to take a break halfway. I have turned into a pathetic creature that I don't know. I don't know how long I have been sitting beside our bedroom door, but when I hear it open, my body quickly jerks and I wince at the sudden movement of my knee.

"R-Rosie," I manage to stand up, but I don't do it fast. My wife, being the compassionate person she is, patiently waits for me, probably because I'm not capable of chasing her. "Rosie, I was drunk. I was blabbering. I didn't mean anything I said." I try reaching for her hand, but she takes a step back.

"I don't want to talk to you, Silas," she quietly says, but even in her quiet tone, I can sense how stern she is. I can tell how much she truly means those words.

"When do you think you can talk to me?" I pathetically ask. This is the consequence of my actions. I should be strong enough to bear them, but I can't. Not when it comes to staying away from Rosie. Not when it comes to realizing I have caused her a lot of pain. "I don't know and I won't be sleeping in our bedroom either," she coldly says.

"No, you stay in our room. I will sleep in the guest room," I mutter. I don't know what to expect from this. I know that if I keep drinking like that, I will put our marriage at risk, and this is the last thing I want.

But if she needs time, then I'm going to give her that. I'm going to give her enough time to cool down. Maybe she can overlook what I said and attribute it to the stress I have been feeling.

I watch my wife go downstairs and I take a deep breath before walking inside our bedroom to collect my stuff, not wanting to bother her for as long as she needs.

Maybe what happened today is a sign I should pay attention to.

Maybe I need to be smarter.

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