“But you want to know how Ifeel,” he continues. “Why I’ll do errands…and the headboard thing…and also the lease…” he tries, his voice low. “Well. You are my wife…To me…We are having a tough time…but that doesn’t mean…I won’t do for you.”
Emotion rises in my throat. It’s not the answer I was (yes) hoping for. It’s notI want you, I love you, I’ll never leave, let’s forget any of this happened.But in some ways it’s better.
Picture Vin with a gigantic treasure chest filled with heavy steel letters. He just painstakingly rooted through that chest and laid each letter for me on the table. I’m his wife and he’s going to do for me.
I scramble to come up with a reply and only find the ever-genius “Well. Now I know!”
Somehow my hands are thrown out to the sides.
I wish he’d stop looking at me.
He catches his left hand in his right. Under his fingers his wedding ring slides in a smooth circle around his finger, like it’s been trained to spin and spin and spin and never stop.
“I know because youtoldme,” I say on little more than a whisper. “So thank you. Because you don’tnormallytell me. So I don’tnormallyknow.”
I’m feeling relieved. Like I’ve just set down a twenty-pound grocery bag. I needed something and I asked for it and he gave it to me. Look at us! It’s working—But when I look up and take in his expression, I read…dismay.
“But…but youdonormally know,” he says in a low voice. “You can tell what’s…going on with me. You…you were like the first person who just got me. Without…”
Without him having to say anything.
Tears spring up from deep within, pinching behind my eyes. “Oh, good. Another thing I’m failing at.”
“No. No, I—See! See, this is why it’s a bad idea for me to say this stuff. Because when I do, I just end up making you sad.”
“News flash. I was sad before.”
“I know.”
“And so were you.”
“No. I was determined. I…thought I could fix it…”
By leaving? Or…I suddenly remember the sign on that door I discovered the other night.Roz, there’s something extremely important that you’re missing.
“Vin…how did you think you could fix it?”
“I thought…space…”
“Right. Space.” I’m not sure if I’m offering it to him, or asking him why he’s already taking it. “You want space. I mean, obviously you do,” I mutter. “You’re the one who signed a lease.”
He’s turned half away from me. I can tell from the stubborn set of his jaw that this conversation is coming to a screeching halt. It occurs to me that it’s not stubbornness. It might just be fatigue. He’s been very clear that he’s not good at this.
I’m not good at running up a hill with a forty-pound sack of flour on my back. If you asked me to do that for twenty minutes after sundown, I’d probably cry uncle myself.
His chin comes up. “That lease doesn’t start until August fifteenth.”
It’s the second time he’s mentioned that explicitly. And this time…I have to ask. “What are you saying?”
“I’m just saying…”
I wait.Please say that you’re not going.
“That I’m still here.”
Eleven
Only Raff wouldhost a housewarming party at a bar fourteen blocks from his actual house and almost three months after he moved in.
