The house sprawled out around him in nearly every direction. It was as open as a floor plan could get. When it had been built, he had made sure there were no narrow halls or rooms that felt small or confining. Instead each and every space in the house was airy and light.
Lance stepped off the last stair and turned into the open kitchen outlined by two perpendicular stone counters. Ellen leaned against the far edge of the counter housing the sink and dishwasher, sipping a cup of coffee. He could see her blue eyes above the cup’s rim through the steam. Her blond hair was pulled up tight behind her head, and she wore the skirt and blouse she had arrived in yesterday afternoon. Here we go, he thought as he put on his best “good morning” smile and sat on the edge of the nearest stool. Ellen finished sipping her coffee and lowered the cup to reveal a mouth that was prettily pink, but unsmiling. She turned and set her coffee down near the sink to tend to a hot pan on the stove. Her movements were jerky as she scraped a well-done egg off the bottom of the nonstick pan and flopped it onto a nearby plate, next to a solitary piece of turkey bacon. She set the plate in front of Lance with a bang, and he feared for a moment the impact with the stone countertop had snapped the glass into pieces.
“Breakfast,” she said as she turned and began to cross the kitchen back to the refuge of her coffee cup.
“Ellen, what’s wrong?” Lance asked, his voice low.
Ellen responded by snorting air out of her nose as she picked up her cup. God, he hated it when she did that.
“What’s wrong? Lance, if you really have to ask that, we have more problems than I thought.” Lance raised one eyebrow but remained silent. Sometimes silence answered questions that hadn’t yet been asked. “I heard you in the bathroom last night, throwing up. You had that nightmare again, didn’t you?”
Lance exhaled and stared down at his plate. The one egg and slice of turkey bacon seemed so pathetic and small that he nearly broke out into laughter, but instead tried to follow the well-worn track he had taken all the times before. “I had a dream. It was a bad one, yes, but just a dream.” Ellen rolled her eyes and sipped angrily at her coffee, as if it were the one holding things back. “It’s nothing, can’t we just have a nice breakfast together and figure out something fun to do today like we’d planned?”
“Yeah, that’s typical Lance. Just shove things aside and do something else. That’s how you function. Have you ever actually been to a therapist?”
The words drove down into his stomach and sent runners of guttural anger radiating outward. He breathed in, trying to calm the rage that bloomed in the back of his mind. “Yes, Ellen. I’ve been to a therapist. I told you that before. I also—”
“You told me just what you wanted to tell me, and nothing more. You’ve never told me anything about your past. Do you not think I’m worthy? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. I told you before, it’s a pretty sensitive thing with me and I’m just really not ready to open up about it yet.”
Ellen stood with her arms crossed, running her tongue over her front teeth, something she did when she was irritated. Lance had once watched her do it for an hour when their flight to Colorado had been delayed unexpectedly. He had wondered then if she would rub her teeth right out of existence.
“Andrew knows though, huh.”
“Yes, Andy knows. He’s also my oldest friend. Please don’t take offense to this. Can’t you just leave it alone until I’m ready to talk about it?”
“We’ve been together for over six months. We’ve been sleeping together for five. How long do you need to wait?”
“Why do you care so much?” Lance said, raising his voice several decibels. Ellen’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t regret letting her know how he felt. He was through being badgered.