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I come out of the bathroom after taking a shower and am surprised to see Bill sitting on the bed. I glance at the clock, it’s nine thirty. I’m really glad I decided to keep my towel on, even though I was just going to grab a nightshirt. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror getting out of the shower and well, blech. I glance at him in a way that I hope acknowledges his presence, but doesn't encourage conversation.
"Lauri," he starts.
"What?"
Whatever he wants to talk about, I probably don't care. I'm not angry much anymore, just apathetic. Really apathetic.
"Um, I got to talk to you about something."
Something in his voice makes me spin around and look at him. He sounds serious. Too serious. I stare at him, the nightshirt dangling from my hand. He looks serious too. Shit. What is he up to? He starts to talk again but I interrupt him.
"Just let me get dressed first, okay?"
I give the nightshirt half a shake in his direction.
Whatever it is, I'm not discussing it in a towel. I don't wait for an answer, I just walk back into the bathroom and shut the door. Lock it for good measure. After I drop the nightshirt over my head, I am up to facing the mirror. I pile on the night cream and brush my hair. I am just about done, and feeling good, about making him wait, when I start to wonder what he wants to talk about.
I don't feel up to another big blow out about his affair, but that doesn't seem like it. What then? God, he's leaving. He went back to her and now he's leaving. I'm so stupid. I should have kicked him out when I found out. The day I found out. I look up in the mirror. I am pathetic. Is there one single way in which I'm not completely and utterly pathetic? No. And now what? I'll be alone, fat, with two kids, while he'll be off having fun with young, skinny, ugh I can't even think her name. Makes me sick.
I'm just assuming the young skinny part. I have no idea what she looks like. I considered trying to find her, on Facebook, but decided against it. Somehow, if she isn't younger and/or skinnier than me that would be worse. Like maybe it wasn't really just sex.
There is a soft knock on the door. Then he is calling my name. Hell, this is it. Fuck. I consider one last look in the mirror but don't bother. I look like crap. I could spend another hour in here and I would still look like crap when he told me he's leaving, for good. It is so not important but if I could just have that, if I could just know that maybe, when he was leaving, he would think one more time about how good I looked. That would be something. As opposed to nothing. Which is what I have. Nothing.
I rip the door open so hard he jumps back, startled. Then I walk across to the bed and sit down. Cross my legs and fold my arms. Confident body language. Plus, it covers up the giant cow printed across the nightshirt. Why did I ever think that was a good idea?
Bill looks at me like he is terrified, of what I am going to do or say next, but makes up his mind to say it anyway. We both take a deep breath at the same time and then he starts.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about vacation."
What?
"What?"
It comes out like a squawk. Yuck. I'm sure Kolleen doesn't squawk, ever.
"Vacation, we booked it in February, like we always do, and I just wanted to know if you still wanted to do it."
Right, we always book our summer beach vacation in February. You have to, if you want to get the exact dates you want. They fill up fast. But what the hell is he talking about?
"What are you talking about? I don't understand."
He comes over and sits on the bed. On the edge of the bed, about as far from me as he can get. Then he rethinks that and moves a little closer. Then a little more. Reaches for my hand, but stops himself.
"Look, I want to go on vacation, but if you don't, I understand. I just figured I should ask you because if we don't cancel by next week, we will lose the deposit and I figured you wouldn't be happy about that."
I'm trying to process all that he is saying but it is just not working. The combination of my extreme tiredness, and my conviction that I was just about to hear my marriage was over, permanently, is making it impossible.
"So," I say, slowly, "you want to cancel the vacation now, so we don't lose the deposit?"
"No! I don't want to cancel it. I mean, if you want to cancel it, I'm okay with that, but I don't want to cancel it. And if you don't want to cancel it now, but you decide later you do want to cancel it and we lost the deposit, that's okay too. I don't care about the money, I just thought you would care about it. That's why I brought it up."
He lets out a big breath.
I don't say anything. I'm overwhelmed by the relief I feel. He isn't leaving. Not today, anyway. I'm surprised how relieved I am. He's waiting for an answer. I have to think about it.
"I don't want to cancel the vacation. Not now anyway."
"Okay, good."
He risks a smile at me.
"For the kids, I mean,” I say, “especially Rachel, you know she loves it there."
She does love it there. But I don't think she would figure it out if we didn't go. I said that just to hurt him anyway. It works, the smile is gone. I don't feel guilty about that, but sad. Very sad. It is like a very sad hole we are in and there is no way to get out. I don't see a way out.
He reaches out towards me again and stops. Again.
"I'm sorry, Lauri, about everything. I really just want us to start over. Maybe vacation is a good time for that?"
He is hopeful.
For once I don't want to hurt him, but I really don't feel hopeful. Hopeless, that is how I feel. But since I am really not looking to hurt him, I smile at him. Old habit. Give him what he wants. Once it made me happy to make him happy. When he smiles back at me, I don't feel happy, but maybe I feel just a little less sad.
It doesn't last long. I feel compelled to pull back, shut out, protect myself. Megan lets out a cry we hear on the baby monitor. Good kid. Thanks for saving me.
"Maybe she'll go back to sleep."
She might, but if I can get her to nurse now, she might sleep through till five or six and I tell him that. I'm kidding myself, she'll be up at four, but there is a chance, right? There has to be a chance? Every baby sleeps through the night eventually. Don't they?
"Okay then," Bill tells me and points to the bathroom. "I'll go brush my teeth."
He smiles at me again and heads into the bathroom. I shut the door to the bedroom on my way to Megan's room. She is fussing enough that I feel justified in picking her up. When she is done nursing, I kiss her head and her hand and silently beg her to sleep a good six hours. Then I settle her back in the crib and head back down the hall.
I pause at the door to the master bedroom, but shake my head and head downstairs to the couch. Letting him think there is hope is one thing. That's another thing entirely and I am not there yet. Not even close.
