The house scented the same as it did before she left. Minty, woody and manly.
Orla had never had plans to remake the fragrances, but now it occurred to her to probably add something feminine to compliment the strong manly scent that subjugated the whole house.
"We are back." Callan proclaimed, lowering her hospital bag on the divan close to the spot Orla stood. Her eyes prowled the living room, nothing had changed. It'd been two days and she found it weird that she wanted something to change.
He smiled at her, but she returned a scowl. Her dingy countenance disturbed Callan. He overlooked it and smiled again, "Here, sit." He pointed his hand at the couch close to her.
She hesitated before finally settling down. She took another cursory look around the room, a billow of irritation assailing her chest. She was so easy to forgive him. It shouldn't be so.
"What now?" She begrudgingly asked.
"We are home." His long arms drew a descriptive circle, showing the house to Orla.
"I know that."
A long silence emanated from her cold response. When Callan didn't say anything, she folded her arms around her chest and glanced at him where he stood, staring at her.
"Isn't it strange that you are excited to have me back home when all you've ever desired is for me to leave your house."
"Orla." He dubbed gently. Remorse smacking him. She wasn't wrong, but he was willing to change now. He just needed a chance. "I," he stumbled, violently rubbing his chin. "I thought we were over this. We settled it all before coming home, didn't we?"
"Oh," she scoffed. "You think sorry solves everything, don't you? Your insincere apology didn't solve a thing?" She lashed at him, resentment clearly visible in her eyes.
Callan loathed that look, "My apology isn't insincere, Orla! I said I was sorry because I truly was. What else do you want me to do?" He raised his voice a little louder but quickly lowered it when he glimpsed her sad eyes. "Orla," he tried to touch her, but she frantically fended off.
"Sorry doesn't fix everything, Callan. I had to act along with you at the hospital because I wanted to leave so badly. I was tired of it all and just wanted to come back home even though it's hell here. What do you know about me? Do you even know why I hate hospitals so much? You say sorry, can sorry heal the scar that you've etched on my body with your words? Is it so easy to let go and just forget the nasty things that you've said and done to me?"
She was struggling inside of her, but he had hurt her so much and letting go so easily was too hard to do.
Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She consoled herself that she was strong and would not break down in front of Callan anymore. He had matched on her because she was fragile and she wanted to break free from that shell she'd hid herself for years.
Callan was lost for words. He stood there in front of her and dug his nails into his hair, gently ruffling.
"You said that you wanted me to cook for you and that was why I brought you home." He said, looking into her eyes. He was confused and didn't know what to start with.
"I do not need that." She yelled, the tears threatening to fall if she raised her voice a little louder than she just did.
"You needed that at the hospital." He mumbled. "Orla, you forgave me. You did."
"I didn't!" She threw a hand up to break him off. "I didn't."
"Orla, I thought that we have settled whatever dispute that we have within us. Why are you making a fuss over something that I have no idea of…" He slowed down and looked at her. "Again."
"I said that because I wanted to get out of the hospital. I am not accustomed to staying there. Staying in the hospital is dreadful, I hate it so much and I so badly wanted to get away, Callan! I am not interested in your food, your sorry or whatever that you have to offer me." She choked back a tear as she reminisced about an event from the past. She had promised herself not to cry about it anymore, but it hurt her whenever she was reminded of it and the tears flowed so easily.
Callan stood there confused, "What then are you interested in?" He asked, staring down at her as she was curled up on the divan.
"To be alone. I want to be alone and think!" She yelled. "Think about this whole thing, think if it's worth it! Reconsider this marriage." She gestured to him and back to herself.
"Reconsider this marriage like you have a choice, huh?" He spat angrily. "The only choice you have here is to be with me and that's what you must do, Orla."
"And what if I tell you that I have other options?" She lumbered to her feet, aiming at him.
"Then prove to me that you have other options." He bellowed mockingly, gaping at her. "Your father's house? Where he doesn't even want you? You have no friend, that I know of! So, what options do you have but to be with me, Orla?"
She let out a snort, shaking her head. "You weren't truly sorry, Callan." But he said nothing, eyes on her. "And you have been doing this because you think that I have no option but to be with you." The tears finally dropped down her cheeks. She wiggled her head, wiping tears off with her thumb. "You're heartless, Callan. You are and I hate you so much!"
"I know you do and it's not new. I am trying, Orla. Don't you see that I am trying to make it up to you, but you keep going back and forth? I fucking want you to let go of this damn beef you have with me! I want to take care of you, Orla! I want to be there for you, I want to be a real husband to you, but you don't want that! What else, I mean, how else do you want me to do this?" Callan yelled at the top of his voice. His eyes red with anger, he clicked his fingers as he hurriedly paced the living room.
He was frustrated, if only Orla wasn't making things too difficult for him. He didn't know how else to please her.
He wanted to make her happy after everything he had done. He so desperately wanted her, and it hurt that she kept pushing him away. He wanted her so much, more than he had ever needed anyone in his life. He longed for her, and he knew he had to have her to be sane again. He was gradually losing it.