When we're out of Jason's room, Marvin is leading me down the hall, until we're at the bottom of the stairs, which is when he turns on me.

"Whizzer, you know you were supposed to make the dinner tonight," he says.

I just glare at him. "Well, I'm sorry if I was too distracted telling your son to see a psychiatrist like you asked me to!"

"You know what I'm talking about.  You need to start taking more responsibility here."

"I don't even live here! The only reason we even come here is because you can't comprehend the fact that you and your wife are separated and you and I are in a relationship."

Marvin sighs in exasperation and throws his hands in the air. "This is going nowhere, isn't it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask with a frown, setting myself down on the couch.

"This little thing that we have. Honestly, I thought that we were getting somewhere." He looks at me. "Don't feel responsible, okay?"

He thinks I feel responsible? "I'm not responsible," I tell him.

"Life can be wonderful. Isn't this wonderful?!" Marvin says. I'm about to answer him, but I realize from the look on his face he's being sarcastic. And it's not wonderful. Not one bit.

Trina comes down the stairs a minute later, walking straight past the living room and into the front hall. She doesn't look at us.

"Where are you going?" Marvin demands as she pulls on her coat.

"I'm going to see Dr. Mendel."

This evening has not turned out in any way that I'd hoped, except, I suppose, for the fact that Jason agreed to see a psychiatrist, although that's the least of my worries right now.

Marvin is still pacing around the living room, grumbling, except he's turned his anger onto Trina instead of me. "Why does she just walk out on us like that?"

"I mean, originally you were the one who walked out on her, so I don't... think..." I stop when he turns to glare at me. This is probably not the time.

"I'm just so tired of her. Of all of this." Of me. He doesn't say it, but he doesn't have to. I'm pretty tired of him too, at least right now I am.

Trina comes back a while later. It's late by now, and none of us have eaten yet. She doesn't go to the kitchen to make dinner. Instead, she comes in and sits on the couch, not looking at either of us.

"How did it go?" Marvin asks.

"I... don't really know."

He pauses, unsure of how to reply to that. "Well. I don't want to inconvenience you in any way, but we still haven't had dinner, so—"

"You want your dinner? Fine, Marvin. I'll make you your dinner," Trina snaps, standing up. "Just like how it was when we were married, right? I do all the work and you don't lift a finger!"

"I'm the one who works all the time!" Marvin argues. "You're being kind of selfish right now, Trina."

She whirls around. "You think I'm being selfish? Oh, you are so lucky I don't have a knife in my hand right now."

"What was that?" says Marvin.

Trina huffs and enters the kitchen without a word. Marvin shakes his head as I'm getting up from the couch.

"I think I'm going to head out," I tell him, slowly taking my jacket from the coat closet.

"Before dinner?" He looks at me. "Whizzer. Come on."

I meet his eyes, and he looks almost apologetic. But I continue to pull my jacket on, and button it up. "I'll see you tomorrow," I say, and he goes quiet because I think he knows what that means.

Before I can feel bad about it, I'm out the door, walking down the sidewalk, in the cool, evening air. It's almost dark out by now. I don't give it a thought.

I don't know what I should be feeling as I walk back to our place the next morning. Guilt? Anger? Should I just tell Marvin he was right, and end the conversation like that?

When I come in, I don't see him. It's early. Maybe he's asleep. Maybe it's better for the both of us if we don't have to see each other right away.

Was Marvin right? About what he said yesterday. About how this is going nowhere. Maybe I've been thinking that for a while. Maybe it's right person, wrong time. Or maybe it's all wrong.

He wakes up about half an hour later. He comes out of his room, and we don't talk. We've done a lot of not talking lately.

"Do you want something to eat?" is the first thing I say to him that morning. I'm in and out of the kitchen, trying to find something for breakfast, but mostly just trying to find something to do.

"No, I'm good," Marvin replies. "Look. Whizzer. Maybe we should talk about yesterday..."

I want to say, it's not just yesterday. It's every day since you and Trina split up and you and I got more serious. And I hate it.

"I don't—"

"It's fine," I lie. "I think we were all just stressed out."

"Yeah," Marvin says, but he's not looking my way. He's looking at the door, the one I came through before he woke up.

"Okay, so?" I ask, dusting my hands on my shirt. "Coffee?"

Marvin glances up. "Hm? Oh! No, no thanks."

"I'll just make it, uh, for myself then." I go into the kitchen and curse myself as I set up the coffeemaker for no apparent reason. I don't know if I should be mad at Marvin or if he should be mad at me, but I don't like it like this.