“Is it something I said?… What’d I do?”
She knew he really didn’t know, and that made her sad. After four and a half years, he still didn’t know her, didn’t understand her, didn’t see her! What the actual fuck?!?
“Derek…” She was about to sound like a scolding parent, for the umpteenth time, and she didn’t want that. But, dammit, she was tired, she was sick and fucking tired — “sick up and fed,” her dad always said, quoting some racist stereotype, probably from a Cheech and Chong album — but anyway, she was sick up and fucking fed with this Derek-child she lived with!
“Derek,” she said again, “I’m going to go away for a little while.” She put on her most earnest face, peered into his eyes. “I need to figure a few things out.”
Derek’s eyes showed no understanding. He watched silently as she turned and picked up her already-packed overnight bag. She heard his sigh as the door to their apartment clicked closed behind her.
Pausing just outside the door, she knew this was the move she needed to make. She only hoped she’d be able to commit to it. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the elevator.