I watch Easton from the rearview as he ponders this question. His gaze bounces between us, eyes narrowed and finger tapping his chin. He’s actually giving it some thought. Finally, he shrugs. “No, it’s okay.” Then he goes back to his book as if nothing happened.
“I think you should get a room,” Sawyer deadpans.
“Oh, we will,” Steven fires back, and I can’t help but laugh.
The boys groan dramatically as Steven makes kissy faces in the mirror. Their bickering fills the cab, swirling around me in a sweet, familiar way.
As we near the end of our drive, the boys have dozed off while Josie plays with her hands, and Steven and I listen to the soft melody of GeorgeStrait. “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” croons ironically as we cross the Oklahoma-Texas border. The afternoon sun hangs high, illuminating the clear-blue sky and spilling gold across the fields around us.
“Em?” Steven whispers, and I hum in response, letting the sun warm my face through the window. “Can I ask one thing?” I hear the regret in his voice, circling back to the topic that we so diligently distracted ourselves from.
I push my sunglasses up to the top of my head and face him, resting my head against the seat, and nod.
“Do we like being parents?” Steven asks quietly, and the question startles me.
“I think so,” I say gently. “What do you think?”
“I think so too.” A reminiscent kind of smile glides across his face, and it sends a glow of affection spreading through me.
“So, what’s troubling you then?” I ask, noting the furrow of his brow.
He laughs under his breath, as if he’s forgotten I can see right through him.
“I don’t know,” he says softly. “It all feels so…right. Being here with you and with them. I’m trying to figure out where it went wrong. I know things aren’t good; I could feel it in the hospital.” These words seem to agonize him as he forces them out. “I can’t wrap my head around it. If I didn’t do anything, you know, big…to cause this distance…”—he pauses to glance back at the kids then at me—“how did we get here?”
I don’t respond, not knowing what to say. I can tell him the facts, the things that have happened, avoiding how it’s naturally torn us apart. But the truth is there, lingering like a black cloud.
“Is this what happens when you’re together for so long?” he asks, scratching his fingers through his hair. “Life gets hardand pushes you apart?”
It hurts, hearing him say that. What should I say? How do I explain that it’s more than that? It’s not just time, or the lies or loss. It’s the void that’s opened between us. A void so vast its felt almost impossible to close. Like a black hole in space, pulling everything around it into the dark, swallowing it until there’s nothing left.
I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself. In my chest, the monster is awake, stirring.Listening. As if this conversation and these thoughts are enough to agitate it. We haven’t even broached the topic of my anxiety and the role Steven plays in it. I don’t even know if we should.
“I think,” I finally say, “people change.”
Silence threatens to swallow the car. He lets out a defeated sigh. “Well, alright, then.”
“Is that it?” I ask skeptically.
He smiles half-heartedly, turning down the ten-mile dirt road that leads to his parents’ ranch. “You said you wanted joy, and we have about twenty minutes left.”
I study him for a long moment before I inevitably surrender. “Fine. One more question. Then we roll the windows down and listen to Dixie Chicks. Deal?”
A pitiful sound escapes him, but he nods in agreement. I sit up a little straighter, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. I reach for him but think better of it, pressing my hands between my knees instead. “Steven…what is it?”
His lip trembles. He blinks hard, rubbing at his eyes before he manages, “Have I…already lost you?”
The words hit me like an air bag, sudden and violent, knocking the air out of everything vital inside me. A month ago, this question might’ve made me uncomfortable, but right now, it’s excruciating. Tears rapidly sting my eyes, hot and insistent. My chest tightens, and my throat burns with the words I want to say.
“Emma…” Steven’s voice cracks.
“Steven, I—”
“We’re here!” Sawyer shouts, now wide awake, bouncing as we pass the Jones Family Ranch sign.
“We’re here, bud.” Steven forces a smile, dragging a hand over his eyes, trying to look composed.
A selfish rush of relief hits me at the interruption. Not because I’m avoiding the truth, but because I don’t have an answer. And the fact that I don’t terrifies me more than anything else.
