Dinner is followed up by game night, where we play a series of board games ranging from trivia to card games. It’s loud and overwhelming, but if I zoom out of my own head, it’s actually quite a lot of fun.
And I’ve got to admit that seeing my husband laugh and enjoy himself is a rare sight I didn’t even know I missed.
There is no time for game night at our house. Not anymore. I fondly remember the days before Karan took on his new job, when we’d both horse around with the boys until bedtime, then followed that up with anything from long-winded discussions about the state of the gaming industry or whatever drama had occurred at the pharmacy, to movie nights cuddled on the couch together under a blanket.
Before William was with Sophie, we’d invite him over solo for game night from time to time, but there was also a brief and joyous overlap when she came into his life before Karan left his job. They’d both tag along when they could find a sitter, Océane also joining them from time to time.
Needles prick at my heart at those memories. I’d do anything to get that sliver of life back.
We take a quick pause in our games to go put Cayce and Corey to bed, and then we’re back at it, this time taking outL’Osti de jeu—a Québécois version ofCards Against Humanity. Though I’m having fun and getting sore ribs from laughter alone, I’m the first to bow out for bed.
“Wait,” Karan says when I stand from the table, rising to stand with me. “I want to show you something.”
“Ew, get a room,” Aisha snorts.
“Aisha, that’s inappropriate,” Martine scolds her niece.
Odd of her to say when we’ve just been playing a saucy game, but maybe she doesn’t like to imagine what’s in her son’s pants.
Trust me—I’ve been trying not to think about that, either.
“Is it going to take long?” I sigh. “I’m really tired.”
Karan gives me a reassuring smile. “Literally two minutes.”
I nod without a sound, then look around the table to make eye contact with every family member. “Well, good night, all.”
Everyone wishes me good night, and I turn to head upstairs, followed by Karan’s heavy footsteps.
My breath becomes shallow, my mouth dry. The last thing I want to do tonight is fight. I don’t have the energy for it, and I’m terrified of what the outcome would be.
Of the things I could potentially say and never take back.
Karan is patient with me and sits on our bed while I occupy the upstairs bathroom to brush my teeth, comb my hair, and wash my face. The entire time, dread has me hostage, setting up shop in the cavity of my chest. Even the cold water I use to rinse my face isn’t enough to stop the beads of anxiety sweat from forming all around my nape.
Finally, and not without hesitation, I make my way back to the bedroom and sit on the bed, a good two feet away from Karan. I steady myself by clasping the edge of the bed with my hands.
“Hey.” Karan touches the edge of my chin with his index, putting soft pressure to turn my head towards him. “Rachel. Look, I’m not blind. I know we’re…”
Something vulnerable flashes through his eyes, and he looks downward.
“Well, we’ve had better days.”
I scoff. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Rachel, I love you so much.”
“Don’t.” I clench my jaw and fight against the burning behind my eyes.
I don’t want to fight. Not tonight. I don’t want to unleash the rant I’ve been holding inside me. The one that wants to tell him that his words mean nothing if he can’t show me.
This is a fight I refuse to have here. Not with his family surrounding us, front row witnesses to our downfall. We have to make it through this holiday and sit pretty until we’re back home.
Then, we can hash it out.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Karan strokes my jaw with his thumb.
It’s a gesture I want to lean into. But I stay put.
