A fender bender is never fun. Definitely something that you replay in your head for a couple days. But for us? After what we’ve been through? The sound of tires screeching. The crash ofanytwo things together. Being shoved forcefully by a lethal metal box…It’s definitely enough to make you cry in the kitchen the night it happens.
For a moment, there’s a pause.
The muscle memory of this year is very strong. This is the moment that he goes into his bedroom and I go into mine, right?
He reads my eyes. I read his. I’m assuming he’s seeing my heart right there, just like he did in my drawings. His expression softens.
I open my arms and he goes immediately into them.
His forehead rests on my shoulder and he takes long breaths, in his nose and out his mouth, like someone must have taught him to do.
“Baby,” I whisper into his hair, and the endearment makes a shudder of emotion wring free of him.
“It’s not a big—”
“Yes, it is,” I assert. And the funny thing is, when I’m defending Vin to Vin, I also end up defending myself to myself. “It might not seem like a big thing on the outside. But on the inside, it absolutely is. I tripped on the sidewalk today and it ruined my day. My week. I cried the whole walk up to our apartment.”
He straightens and tugs me close. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I landed on my hands. But I got this shot of adrenaline or whatever and now my head aches. And I’m in a bad mood. And I didn’t make dinner. And I just feel like the world peeled me like a banana today. But I don’t want to be a peeled banana. I want to be anunpeeled banana. And it seems like everybodyelsegets to be an unpeeled banana, so, what the fuck!”
He’s laughing. “I’m definitely a peeled banana, too. Let’s order Chinese food.”
I’m tapping my temple. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”
“Yeah. I always know when to order Chinese food. It’s my superpower.”
I order the food while he takes a shower and then, in his boxer shorts, he comes to find me lying on my side of the bed, trying to read a book, but really just watching my thoughts play out on the page.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” I whisper. He was in a (minor) car accident today. Myeyes fill involuntarily. I know that emotions don’t make you weak, but it sure is hard to feel strong when you’re leaking out of your paper bag like a smashed tomato.
He crawls across the bed and lies on top of me, his head resting on my chest. It’s such a nice position. It’s so friendly and warm and husband-ish. It’s countless, the number of times he’s cuddled me just like this. Given me his perfect weight and let me hold him.
But…
The awful truth is that his chest pressed atop me like this might always make blue tile flash through my mind. My hand on his back, warm with sticky, fresh blood.Vin,I said, over and over. But he didn’t answer.
“Vin.”
“Hm?”
Vin.
“Vin.”
“Yeah?”
Vin.
“Vin!” I plant my two aching palms on his shoulders and shove him off me. “Off!”
Our nice, safe moment is ruined, scratched to ribbons. He’s scrambling back, breathing hard, eyes on my face. I can’t stop myself. I grab his pillow, strap it across my face, and attempt to scream my soul clear out of my body. I drop the pillow and inhale fiercely, sucking my soul back inside.
“Wow.” Vin’s eyes are wide. He’s reaching out for me, brave man.
I lunge forward and collapse on top of him.
