“You never ASKED me to cut their toenails!” RJ exploded. “And you get fucked up too! That’s our deal! We take turns! Now you’re suddenly going to act like I need to go to Promises Malibu when you do the exact same thing?”
“I don’t do the exact same thing, RJ,” Fran pushed back. “For every drink I have, you have six. For every half a gummy I take, you rip a bong hit.”
“I didn’t realize you were keeping score, Fran. Is that how you want it to be? You want to be one of those couples who goes tit for tat on everything? I put away half the groceries and you do the other half? I washed six dishes so you need to wash six now?”
“I’m not saying that, RJ,” Fran said, frustrated.
“You want me to quit drinking? Quit weed? Maybe wear a suit to work?”
“Sure, that would be great.” She couldn’t imagine any of it.
“You’re a fucking tough case, Fran.” RJ shook his head. “I ask you to marry me for years. I move to your hometown. I spend everyweekend with your family. I fucking love you so much, but instead you tell me you’re not happy with our life. I really don’t know what to do with that.”
They pulled into her parents’ driveway and within moments the boys came spilling out the door, London climbing into the back seat and doing his own seat belt, Fran getting out to help Hale.
“The boys ate such a good dinner.” Fran’s mother walked up to the car. “Hale had TWO hamburgers.” Fran could barely look at her mother, sure that the fight would show all over her face.
“AND WE PUT CHOCOLATE SAUCE ON ICE CREAM!” Hale screamed. He had spots of ketchup and chocolate all over his shirt. Fran laughed weakly.
The boys chattered the whole way home, but Fran could feel RJ’s anger radiating from the driver’s seat. They avoided each other as they got the kids ready for bed, as they read stories and turned on nightlights and fixed the curtains. Hale fell asleep right away, but Fran lay with London, gently running her fingernails up and down his back through his pajamas, giving him scratchies as he drifted off. Was she being unfair asking RJ to grow up? Maybe instead of coming down on him with a litany of complaints she should have been telling him her annoyances one by one. But who wanted to constantly be policing their partner? That was half the reason she had resisted becoming “a wife.” It seemed there was a whole cultural construct around that role—the “happy wife, happy life” thing, the women who made their husbands leave the party early, who allowed them just one golf weekend a quarter, who told them they needed to get a haircut or lay off the carbs or put on a belt. Fran couldn’t stand the idea of being that kind of person.
London’s breathing had settled into a deep rhythm and so Fran crept out of the room. RJ wasn’t in the kitchen, wasn’t in the shower, and Fran wondered where he’d gone. The car was out front, the keyson the table. Fran listened and then heard the thunk of a basketball in the driveway. She went into the kitchen and cracked open a can of seltzer, watching RJ through the window as he moved around the key, practicing his shot from the corner, from the free throw line. She knew him so well, knew he couldn’t just sit with his feelings, that he had to move his body, run or climb a hill when his emotions became overwhelming. But she also knew herself. She couldn’t go to sleep angry, she couldn’t leave this unresolved between them, so she opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.
“Can I play?”Fran held her hands out for the ball and RJ looked at her a moment before nodding and giving her a bounce pass. “Horse?” She took an easy layup and then passed it back to RJ for him to do the same. She threw her next shot from the elbow and RJ followed, then she missed from the top of the key and bounced the ball to RJ for his turn.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Cal before?” asked RJ. “Why did I have to see those pictures to find out?” The ball rattled through the rim and Fran walked to his spot on the pavement.
“I wasn’t ready for a big conversation.” Fran lined her fingers up on the ball. “I knew that once I told you we’d have to really talk about our relationship, and I just wasn’t there.”
“About how I drink and smoke too much and don’t help enough with the kids?”
“Yeah, and about the money.”
“The money?” RJ looked genuinely mystified. “What money?”
“The money my dad lost on the betting apps. His mortgage.”
“But we did talk about that. We said your brothers should help him and he should downsize,” RJ said, confused.
“No,yousaid that. I’ve been trying to help them, but after I cover my half of the mortgage, the cars, all that stuff, I don’t have enough left.”
“Did you want me to give it to them?”
“Not give, but loan, maybe?” Fran realized she was about to cry. She felt humiliated asking him, asking in the same breath she’d told him he was a bad partner, that she’d fallen asleep with another man.
“Sure, Fran. I can loan it to them. Anything you want. I’ll buy their house outright. That’s fine. Anything I have is yours. You should know that.”
“I just feel like a jerk.” Fran dribbled the ball hard against the ground and then threw it up, bouncing it off the backboard. “I wouldn’t help you with your student loans and now here I am asking for you to help me.”
“Fran. We were young, we were just starting out. I never would have expected you to pay my loans. But that was ten years ago. We have kids now. We’re a family. Do I think your brothers are idiots? Yes. Do I think your parents make some questionable financial choices? Yes. But if you want to pay for their house, let’s pay for their house.”
“I think I have to ask for more, though.” Fran shook her head.
“What?” asked RJ.
Fran thought for a moment. “If I make this shot and you miss it, you need to stop drinking.”
“Wow.” RJ laughed, surprised. “Do you really think I drink too much?”
