Jay was gone. After our fight, he took off. But before he left, he apologized profusely for fighting with me and begged for forgiveness as he helped me to the bathroom to take care of my bleeding. I feared my nose was broken but, thankfully, it wasn’t. Once my nostrils were sufficiently plugged with cotton and I was given a Valium to calm me and an ice pack for the swelling that was bound to follow, Jay ran a bath for me, helped me out of my soiled pajamas, and laid out clean ones for me to wear. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep that night was him sitting beside me on the bed stroking my hair and saying, “I’m sorry, baby” over and over. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. He’d left a brief, rather vague voice mail message saying that he was taking a few days off
