� Then you stopped noticing me when I was bein� a brat too. But it was too late I couldn�t stoppppppp� I started crying again, knowing I sounded dumb but unable to clarify the emotions swirling inside of me. � I needed your attention n I didn�t know how to get it and I�m sorry I�m sorry I�m sorrryyyyy!� Suddenly I felt angry again. I had needed him and he never noticed, even letting the dishes pile up, avoiding paying bills, even all that wasn�t enough to get his attention dammit! I sat up and glared at him, letting him see just how angry I was.
His slight frown and furrowed brow let me know he was listening. But I wanted him to act, not just listen. I needed something more.
�So let me understand Julie.� He paused for a moment.
�You did all this shit because you wanted attention? You acted like a bitch, like a spoiled brat because I didn�t give you enough attention?? Never mind the fact that I work full time and you don�t never mind the fact that I do things around the house that I run errands. Never mind that you spend hours and hours online chatting. Yes I have looked thru the history on the pc, yes I know where you have been..� His voice trailed off in a tone of disbelief as he shook his head.
Suddenly his words penetrated my anger. I had been awful, month after month of awful. Looking at him tearfully I nodded to him, that yes, attention was all I wanted.
�Jesus you have pissed me off beyond belief Julie. Truly pissed me off this time. I need to think, I need to get out of here for a bit before I say something at your level, something rude and nasty.� He looked at me and jammed his hands into his pockets.
Still crying I stood up as well. �Nooooo please Ken don�t go don�t leave me please I will be perfect honest just don�t leave me!� I felt nearly hysterical at the thought of losing him, pushing him was one thing but losing him quite another.
He took a step back.
�I�m not leaving for good. I need air. I need to think. I need to decide things here Julie. You may feel hurt that I didn�t give you attention, well I�m pretty damned hurt by you not even telling me but acting like a fucking brat instead.� With that he spun on his heel and strode out the door. He didn�t slam it, he just shut it. Somehow that was scarier, the controlled anger.
For long moments I listened to the silence hoping to hear his returning footsteps. As the tears trickled down my cheeks I began to realize there was a good chance I had gone too far. I looked around the living room seeing it for the first time in ages. Piles of books and magazines, laundry and a scattering of dishes all covered in a fine patina of dust. Some of the books had been on the floor for weeks possibly longer. With a self-pitying sniffle I stood up and began to carry dishes into the messy kitchen. I felt overwhelmed; the kitchen was so messy I hadn�t a place for more dirty dishes! Slowly I began at one end of the counter working my way to the sink.
