The Morning After the Nothingness Before

I awake to the familiar chime that announces a new text has arrived. I am relieved.

But only momentarily.

It is from Scott, but not the text I'd hoped for.

"No. Not at all. I am unhappy with myself, and unhappy with my life, and my house and my job.  And the shore is destroyed. Spent a lot of time there yesterday."

So what is he saying?  That he's in a funk and not to worry about the vanishing act, he was consumed, as many are, with the devastation of the storm?  I do worry about the "unhappy with my life" part, though. I am clearly a part of that life. Am I in the happy part or the unhappy part or the not so sure part?  I need to know.

I text back.

"Sweetie, talk to me. If you are upset about things in your life, don't shut me out. If I am in your life I want to be really in your life. Unless that is part of what's bothering you. But in any case, we should talk, sweetie."

I have gone out on a limb, I know. But something about this whole situation as it has developed is nagging at me. Poking at my intuition. Weighing on my heart.

I wait for a reply text. Surely this text deserved and answer. Probably a phone call. A right away phone call either to say, "Please don't make more of this than it is, I am overwhelmed and am trying to keep my head above water. I love you; please don't worry" or "Yes, I am completely overwhelmed and need a break from something. I love you but I need a little breathing room right now."

No text comes.

I call. He ignores the call. It goes to voicemail on 2 rings.

I wait 20 minutes. Maybe he's composing a text. Or in the shower. Or giving the dog a bath.

I call again. He ignores the call. It goes to voicemail on 2 rings.

I text. "Scott, eventually we are going to have to have a conversation."

I lay back in bed. I am certain I am about to be single again.