“I’m looking forward to it.” She playfully twirls my tie. “But instead of waiting all day, you could just take off that suit and come back to bed right now.”
I grin and back away. “Sorry, but I can’t.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m sure you would, but I have to go.”
She huffs out a displeased sigh. “You don’thaveto. Youwantto.”
“Come on, Jess, It’s the right thing to do.”
“And it’s not right to care about your wife’s feelings?”
“Don’t turn this into something it’s not.” Damn it, I hate it when she tries to manipulate me. I head to the door. “Talk to you later.”
I take the stairs down to the parking garage. It’s probably not fair to Jessica, but ever since the donor site debacle, I’ve found myself critical of her behavior. I keep thinking,Who is this?She wasn’t like this when I married her—was she?
Maybe she was and I just couldn’t see it. We became involved just a few months after my father died, when I was in a pretty dark place. I’d lost my mother the year before, and when Dad passed so suddenly and unexpectedly, I’d felt completely unmoored. I missed having a sense of family.
I met Jessica at the wedding of a law school classmate at the Columns Hotel on St. Charles Avenue. I was a groomsman, and she was a work friend of the bride. The couple had tried to set us up earlier, but I’d declined; I hated fix-ups.
The bride’s sister sailed over to my table at the reception. “I was told that one of my duties as matron of honor was to introduce you to Jessica and make sure you danced with her.”
“Okay,” I said. I followed her across the room, and she introduced me to a knockout brunette in a burgundy dress.
Jessica bowled me over with her looks and her smarts. That dance had led to brunch the next day. She made it clear early on that she wanted marriage and children, and that she’d always dreamed of a summer wedding. Six months later, I proposed to her under the branches of a sprawling oak at New Orleans City Park during the annual Christmastime Celebration in the Oaks. Everyone said, “Wow, this is all happening really fast,” but I figured, what’s the point of waiting?
She planned an elaborate wedding in Seattle for the following summer. As the event drew closer, dread loomed over me like a storm-threatening cloud. I didn’t want to admit it even to myself, but I was having second thoughts. I lost sleep, I lost weight, and I lost my ability to concentrate.
An older attorney at the firm took me for a drink three weeks before the ceremony. “You look like hell, son. What’s wrong?”
I spilled my worries about my upcoming marriage. “I don’t know if she’s the right woman, or if she just came along at the right time.”
“There’s not a lot of difference,” he said. “You could build a good marriage with any number of women. It’s a matter of making a commitment and sticking to it.”
The words sounded practical.
“You made a commitment to marry her when you proposed, so you’re in pretty deep already,” he added.
“Yeah.” I’ve always been big believer in honoring commitments—my dad was a stickler about keeping your word—which was why I was so freaked out to be having second thoughts. “But what if proposing was a mistake?” I asked. “I’m not sure I feel as strongly about her as I should.”
“It’s normal to have doubts before making a major life step.” He swirled his tumbler of scotch.“The question is, are you unsure enough to break her heart, embarrass her and her family, and cost her parents all the wedding expenses that can’t be recouped?”
In the end, I wasn’t sure I wasthatunsure. I couldn’t evenarticulate my reasons for having cold feet, so I kept my mouth shut, chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters, and married Jessica as planned.
As far as I’m concerned, marriage is for life; I said those words at the altar, so I intend to stick by them.I need to have more compassion, I think now as I cross through the parking garage. Jessica’s been through a lot; she sees her infertility as a personal failure, and the miscarriage and unsuccessful treatments have really taken a toll on her. They’ve taken a toll on me, too, but mostly they’ve taken a toll on our marriage.
Going through a hard time can put lot of pressure on a relationship. Sometimes it pushes a couple together; I think about my parents, working so hard to reimagine and rebuild my father’s business when the big-box store moved next door. Other times it pulls them apart; I think about my buddy Austin, whose marriage broke up after he lost his job and he couldn’t find a comparable one.
I feel for Jess, I really do. I know that suddenly having Lily in my life is tough on her, but she’s the one who couldn’t leave well enough alone, who insisted on finding out if I had a child. Despite my empathy for her, I can’t seem to let go of the fact that this is all her doing.
That’s one of my character flaws; I have trouble letting things go.I need to work on that, I think as I climb into my car and start the engine.Loveis an action word; it’s something you do, not just something you feel. I need to try harder, to put in more effort, to be more understanding.
The sun is rising over the bend in the levee as I pull out from the parking garage, and I squint in the glare. I always heard that marriage is a lot of work, but my parents never seemed to struggle at it.
Another, more unsettling thought hits me as I look both ways before turning onto Tchoupitoulas: at some point, isn’t marriage supposed to be a two-way street?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
