The next morning when I wake up, my body is sweet and tender from another night of intense lovemaking. I move, wanting to snuggle close to David, but he’s not in bed with me. Disappointed, I get up. The bed feels incredibly empty with me as its sole occupant.
On my way to the bathroom, I see the note propped upright on the dressing table. ‘Gone to the office.’ It says, in a firm elegant scrawl. I’m already missing him as I go into the bathroom and take a warm shower.
Afterwards, I dress and find my way to the kitchen, following the unmistakable smell of breakfast cooking. I find Mrs. Daniels making pancakes. Still feeling let down that David has already left, I say a friendly hello to her, silently telling myself that it’s unrealistic to expect that David and I would spend all our time together, making love. Of course, he has to go to work, he has a business to run after all.
Mrs. Daniels pours me some tea and places a large plate of pancakes dripping with maple syrup in front of me. I’m not particularly hungry, but the pancakes are light, fluffy, and delicious. As I eat, we talk about the apartment, and she tells me the things I need to know, like the names of some of the building staff and all the security codes and emergency numbers I might need. She seems to vibrate with warmth as she talks, and I soon relax in her company.
After my breakfast, she has other work to do, and I’m left on my own again. I find myself missing Stacey and her constant concern. I imagine her sitting at her desk with a frown on her face, wondering if David has turned out to be Bluebeard. I don’t have a mobile, I’m sure that if I did she would be calling me every hour. I decide to put her mind at rest.
“Sophie honey,” I can hear the relief in her voice that I’ve finally called, “How are you?” It’s so like her to keep fretting about me, even though I’ve assured her that I’m happy.
“I’m fine.” I say, laughing.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I insist. “I’m perfectly happy.”
“Okay.” I try not to hear the skepticism in her voice. Thankfully, she starts to tell me about the reactions to my sudden marriage. I listen silently, but I don’t really care. Ashford seems like a very long time ago.
“Mrs. Newton seems to think you broke poor Eddie’s heart,” She says, catching my attention, “Apparently he was always sweet on you.”
“He wasn’t.” I say defensively, trying to forget the look on Eddie’s face when he confronted David at my apartment. Good thing Stacey doesn’t know about that. I think, relieved.
“Oh well,” She sighs. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” She says finally.
“I won’t,” I assure her, “but don’t worry about me Stacey, I promise I’ll be fine.”
The rest of the day passes slowly. Mrs. Daniels clucks in disapproval when
I tell her not to bother about lunch. She disappears again, leaving me by myself. I swim laps in the pool, lie on the lounger in the terrace reading magazines, and watching the city from the height of the penthouse. I can’t help feeling as if I’m on a solo vacation instead of a honeymoon.
I wander through the apartment, exploring on my own. In David’s study, I look through the numerous books on business, and philosophy. Thankfully, there are also some literary classics, Charles Dickens, Thackeray, and even Fitzgerald. They are all sturdy looking, leather bound volumes. Probably very expensive, I think, wondering if he reads them.
I spend the rest of the day drawing. The sound of my pencil scratching the paper of my sketchbook is soothing and familiar. I draw until it gets a little dark outside. As I put my sketchpad away, I realize with a vague feeling of sadness that it’s the third day of my marriage, and I have been alone all day.
I’m at the window seat reading a book when David returns. He steps into the living room, filling the space with his striking presence. I spring up from my seat, unable to contain how happy and relieved I am to see him. At the back of my mind, I berate myself for being so pathetically dependent on him, but I forget those thoughts when he drops his briefcase and claims my lips in a soul-searing kiss.
I forget that I have been alone all day, I forget the gloominess of my feelings earlier. Surrounded by the taste and feel of him, I can’t think of anything besides how he makes me feel.
“Are you hungry?” I ask when he finally releases me.
The smile spreads slowly across his lips. “I am.” He says, his eyes devouring me.
I take a deep breath. “Mrs. Daniels left something for dinner.”
“Oh that.” He chuckles, his eyes telling me that his hunger was for something else. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He says, picking up his briefcase and going to our room to change out of his suit.
I set the table in the kitchen. After we eat, David gives me another long kiss before disappearing into his study. Confused, I wonder if all my days are going to be spent like this, waiting for him to come home to make love to me, and staying out of his way when he wants to work. I may not have a lot of experience, but I’m sure there should be a lot more intimacy in a marriage.
It’s not as if I blame him for working, but we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon. I understand that with the rushed wedding, there would have been little time to arrange his schedule to put a trip together. But it’s not even a trip I want. I want him. I want him to be mine the way I’ve surrendered to being his. I don’t want to be like Psyche, wandering all day around a beautiful house, with a husband I don’t know, who only comes to make love to me in the dark.
I’m still awake when he comes into our bedroom. I watch him as he comes to sit on the bed. I’m trying to find the words to tell him how I feel without seeming needy. I’ve told him my feelings once, and the only answer he gave me was silence. I don’t know if I can expect anything better this time.
“You left so early this morning.” I say finally, when the silence becomes too much.
“I always leave early.” His tone is dismissive.
That was before you had a wife. I want to say, but I bite the words back. I understand that he has to work hard. You don’t get to have the things he does at his age by being laid back, but I need to know that I’m not just a warm body he comes to at night. I think of all the things I want to tell him. That I was lonely without him, bored, wishing he was here. That we’re newlyweds, supposed to be spending this time together.