THIRTY-FOUR
Extremely Logical Priorities, Ice Storms, and Birthing Hips
Tessa
I'm making myself atuna sandwich with one slice of bread for elevenses. I now have so little room for my stomach that I eat tiny meals several times a day to avoid horrible indigestion/heartburn. I’ve already showered, so I’ll start another round of visualizing my cervix opening as soon as I’ve eaten. Although it won’t work. I can’t concentrate long enough to get anything going, not that it would necessarily work anyway.
Arthur left for his workout at 7:30 this morning, and he still hasn’t come back yet, which is odd for a Saturday. Although, I suppose it’s not that odd, since we are basically avoiding each other at the moment. We still haven't made up from our fight last week, which is a very bad sign, I'd say. I know you're never supposed to go to bed angry, but every time I think about having a conversation with him, I realize there's no point in bringing it up until I can calm down.
But the longer this goes on, the harder it is for either of us to approach the subject. We’re exceedingly cordial to each other when we find ourselves in the same room, but there is very little eye contact and absolutely no affection coming from either of us, even though I'd very much like to give him a big hug. Well, sort of; I'm still pretty pissed about how he treated my parents and the fact that the two attempts we've made to discuss my parents have failed, ending with him insisting it's for the best to have them gone. Formysake. Hah! Not bloody likely.
The door opens, and I hear him come in. Dexter gets up to greet him, but I stay in the kitchen.
“Hello, Dexter. Have you been keeping Tessa company whilst I was out?” Pause. “Good boy.”
Arthur comes around the corner with Dexter at his heels. He stops when he sees me and gives me a sort of sad smile that breaks my heart a little.
“Hi,” I say with a slight wave. “I’m making tuna for elevenses. Don’t suppose you want some?”
He shakes his head. “I’m all right, thanks.”
I sigh, knowing he doesn’t want anything from me. “Okay. Where’ve you been?"
"I was out getting you something you need."
"Is that so?" Here we go again. “What if you ask me what I need instead of assuming?”
He walks over to me and stands directly in front of me. Staring down at me, he says, “Let me give it a try and see if I can figure it out for myself. You need me to listen to you. You need me to stop assuming I know what you need, and more than that, you need me to know that you know what you need better than anyone else.”
“That’s a pretty good start, actually.”
“And you need your parents nearby to help you through the next several scary weeks."
I narrow my eyes, feeling a little confused. “Did you go get my parents?"
"I went to Bram’s and begged their forgiveness and asked them to move back here—not just until the house is ready, but until we feel like we can handle things on our own.”
“What did they say?”
“Your father needed some convincing, a lot of groveling, and a steadfast promise that I’ll always look after his little girl.”
“And my mum?”
“Basically started packing the moment I got there,” he says with a little grin.
“Of course she did.”
He holds out his hands to me, and I place mine on his, feeling an enormous weight lifting off my chest. "What about Mr. Whiskers?"
"He's not coming. Apparently, they've sent him to a cat rehab expert. She’s going to keep him for a few months and see if she can cure him of his destructive ways."
“So, are they back already?”
“Tomorrow. They’re staying at Lars and Nina’s tonight to mind the kids whilst they’re at a Christmas party.”
“Okay, well, good. I guess. I mean, I know they’ve been a real pain in the arse, especially for you and the staff, but I justneedmy parents right now, you know?”
“Idon’treally know, Tess,” I say in a gentle voice. “My parents weren’t exactly the type you could rely on.”
