Camille
Upon arriving home, Rob went directly to the sofa, where he is stretched out, dealing with a flood of texts, presumably from his sisters.
I watch over him, uncertain of what to do. He hasn't said a word to me since we left his parents' house. I go into the kitchen and fix myself a glass of wine, drink half of it and then pour one for him. From my vantage point, I can see him texting. At least he's talking to someone.
I sit on the coffee table and offer him the glass of wine.
He sits up and takes the glass, downing most of it in one big gulp. "Thanks."
"What can I do?"
"Nothing." He continues to respond to texts while I sit there feeling stupid and impotent.