The key is turning in the lock. Here he is. My husband. Tired, listening to music in his big headphones. - How was your day, baby? - Fine. And yours? - So-so - Why so-so? He has turned on the TV, increased the volume and even didn’t hear my last question. I go to the kitchen to give him some food. Today on the menu we have fried rice with meat and potato salad. I heat up the food and bring it to him. He says a short “thanks” and starts gulping the food. - Baby, can I have some juice with ice, please? - Ok. I bring him juice with ice. - So, how was your day? – Ask I. - Just ok, - answers he. - Any details? - No, no details. - Ok. The dirty plate and the glass remain on the table. My husband turns on the computer, plugs in his headphones and he’s off to another planet. And I am still on the Earth, so I have to take away dirty dishes and wash them, then I start cooking food for tomorrow and think of our life. During the day so many things happened to me that I want to tell him. But I know for my husband they are not as interesting or important as for me. So, I keep it to myself. - Honey, - I’m calling him - Yes, baby… What do you want to say? – replies he with a slight irritation - Your aunt phoned today. She was asking if you sent her the paper she asked you about. - Oh, ok. Tell her, that I remember and I’ll send it soon. - Maybe I could send it for you, because it’s been a while since she asked you about it. - Ok, ok. Send it. You know my aunt’s address, don’t you? - Yes, I’ve got her address, but I don’t have the paper. - Ok, I will look for it tomorrow. - Why don’t you look for it now? - Baby, I’m so exhausted. Please, I’ll look for it tomorrow, I promise. - Ok. And he goes back to his Moon or Mars, and I go back to cooking and washing up. I want to tell so much to him. I want to tell how I’ve been looking for a job all day, sending resumes and getting no response and feeling frustrated. I want to tell him about the news I read in the internet and programs I watched. I want to tell him about my plans for the weekend… But he is sitting there, in front of his beloved computer, smiling at something and looking so happy that I decide not to bother him. New York is a cold city. Seems like it shut all the doors in front of me. I am knocking and knocking but nobody responds. Back in my country I would have a nice job, cozy evenings in our family house with my snugly cat sleeping by my feet. But here all I have is frustration and fear. It’s so hard to start your life from the bottom again when you are thirty years old. And some people break down and think that they are too good, too professional or too educated to clean the floors in a hotel. I understand. But you need to be strong, you need to keep moving forward and be optimistic. And if life tells you that you’ve got no choice but to start from cleaning the floors again, you have to go and clean the floors, hoping for a brighter day one day. It’s a pity my husband doesn’t understand it. He thinks that it’s better to stay at home. Oh, some people say this, some people say that… But in the end it’s my life and my decisions to make. I am reasoning myself with the stories of famous people who had to start from scratch and climb all the way from the bottom up, even though they were not young. I’m lying on the bed, twisting my long hair around my finger and thinking hard. My husband interrupts my inner battles: - Can I have something to drink? - Sure I bring him a glass of juice. He is even not looking at me. Then I turn on the TV and watch some Christmas film which they already showed yesterday. I check my mail box again to see if anyone replied to my resume. But there is nothing except for some advertisement and spam. I go to bed. After a while my husband goes to bed too. He lies down on his part of the bed and pulls the blanket leaving me uncovered. He always does that. And if I don’t find a way to cover myself, he wouldn’t even bother to cover me. Oh, God, how I want to go home. Maybe it’s all just a bad dream? These stupid empty green walls, this ceiling, this table covered with litter, these problems… I close my eyes and open them again hoping to find myself back at home in my cozy clean bed. But no, these stupid green walls again. Well, tomorrow is a better day. I get closer to where my husband is sleeping and dive under the cover, hugging him softly with one hand and hiding my face between his shoulder-blades. But I don’t feel sleepy at all. - Joe, - I call him in the darkness. He doesn’t reply - Joe, - I call again. - Yes, baby, tell me- he lies down on his back. - No, nothing… Good night. - Good night, - says he and turns his back on me again. I’m honestly trying to get to sleep, but these thoughts in my head are so loud and fast, they are driving me crazy. I turn on my MP3 player to kill the thoughts. The music is taking me away like a huge warm wave. And I want to dance.