I had a terrible day at work yesterday. We’d gotten shipment in, and there was so much freight that it took a miracle to get it all out and off the floor – because we were then duly informed that NOTHING could be left behind, as the lights were (finally!) going to be fixed, and there could be nothing on the floor. On the way home, I talked to my mom and mentioned that I think I’ve found the MFA program I want to apply for.
She then lectured me on how I need to do something that will actually get me a job.
I came home upset, and took it out on LAboy. I said something I shouldn’t about how we would need to move to follow my dream – and he’d have to see his daughter less. I hurt him; I sobbed hysterically and did what I do best when I’m upset.
I started to clean the kitchen.
I sobbed quietly over the dishes. He sat there staring at the floor. I broke down folding the laundry. He got up as if to leave and go to bed.
He came over and held me, telling me it was okay. “How?” I asked, barely able to breathe through my tears. “Two things,” he said.
“You can remember that I’ve had to fight for even the small amount of time I’ve gotten with her now.”
“What’s the second?”
“You can love me forever,” he replied, something that he always says to me. But he was playing with his pocket.
I said okay, hugging him hard as he held me. “The second part of that,” he added, and got down on one knee. “Marry me?”