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“WELL,” GREG SAID AS he put the car in reverse, “at least we had a nice drive, right?”
“That’s true.”
“I should have remembered they’d be closed on Sundays. Now that you know it’s here though, you can drive yourself tomorrow during the day, or we could come back and choose your present together tomorrow night. Whichever you want.”
“Either way would be fine with me,” Katrina answered as Greg began the long descent back down the Safe Anchorage Farm’s winding driveway.
“I’m sure either way would be fine with you,” he said. “That’s not what I asked. I asked what you’d choose.”
“And I told you either would be fine.” She was glad her husband was still in a good mood or she could see this circular conversation irritating both of them rapidly.
“Why do you do that, Mouse?”
“Do what?”
“Never have an opinion on anything. It happens all the time. Once or twice, it’s not a big deal, but I seriously feel like the last time you made a decision entirely on your own was when you agreed to marry me. And ever since then it’s like I’m living with nothing but a yes girl.”
“You’re complaining that I agree with you too much?” What had started out as a fun, spontaneous trip to the gift shop was quickly turning into yet another argument. Oh, well. At least they’d had a happy hour together before it all fell apart again.
“No, I’m complaining because either you don’t have a mind of your own to make up or you’re so worried about disappointing me that you’re afraid to express your opinion. And that’s problematic either way you look at it. I know it’s probably harder for you because of the way your mom ...”
“My mom has nothing to do with this,” Katrina snapped. He wanted her opinion all of a sudden? She’d be happy to give it to him.
“You probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m pretty sure you’re wrong,” Greg went on before she could get another word in on the contrary. “Think about it. What’s your biggest complaint about the way your mother raised you? It’s that she tried to control everything. She didn’t let you make any decisions for yourself, from whom you could or couldn’t fall in love with all the way down to your class schedule at the community college. I hate that I even have to say this, but that’s not normal, you know. Didn’t she call up your conductor once and complain that he was keeping you out too late at rehearsals? That’s something you do when your kid’s twelve, Mouse, not twenty.”
Great. First the run-in with Mrs. Porter and now another argument, this time about her mother. Was it possible for the afternoon to get any worse? She crossed her arms, hoping that her husband would understand from her rigid silence how upset he was making her.
“Growing up the way you did, you never learned how to express yourself. With your mom being the control freak she is, it was safer for you to have no opinion whatsoever. That part’s not your fault. I get it. I really do. But what I don’t get is why you’re still acting like you’re being controlled, like you’re too afraid to speak your mind. Have I done something to make you feel like you can’t share your opinions with me?”
Katrina still couldn’t figure out how a conversation about whether she should return to the gift shop alone or with her husband could have devolved into a dissection of every dysfunctional aspect of her childhood.
Greg acted like he wanted to know what was going on in her mind, but if he had any idea how unhappy she was, if he had any idea how much anger and resentment she’d started to harbor about the petty, judgmental members of their church, if he had any idea how many times she’d asked herself if her mom had been right to warn her away from Greg, he’d understand why so often she chose to remain silent.
He kept one hand on the steering wheel and rested the other on her knee. “Know what? This isn’t a conversation we need to have right now. I’m sorry I brought it up. We’ve had a good afternoon together, and even though the gift shop was closed, that doesn’t mean the fun has to end. Did you bring your gloves?”
Katrina reached into her coat pockets. “Yeah. Why?”
Greg smiled, any signs of frustration with her erased from his expression. “I’m not going to tell you now. You’ll just have to wait and see.”