Two

The Cubs–Brewers game was on when Hollis walked into the room. Finn was staring at the flat screen as if the outcome depended on him. He’d been like that for over two hours. Two hours and twenty-three minutes, not including the pregame. And Finn always watched the pregame. He said it provided the right “context” for the matchup, whatever that meant. Finn didn’t just enjoy baseball—or anything else, for that matter. He studied it. Once he set his sights on a topic, it became an obsession.

Three years ago it was archery, followed by Middle English poetry, then tarot cards. This winter it was John Wayne—three biographies and every movie he could get his hands on from The Big Trail to The Shootist. She watched most of the movies too, hoping it would bring them closer. But while Finn explained, in great detail, the evolution of Westerns from the silent movies to the 1970s, Hollis found herself dreaming of being swept off her feet by a handsome cowboy.

Now, while the game plodded forward, she closed her eyes and waited for a commercial. She was trying to decide whether to be cute and funny, or annoyed and stern. She was trying to remember what worked these days. But these days, nothing seemed to work.

When, finally, a Bud Lite ad filled the screen, Hollis turned to her husband. “We should talk about vacations.”

“We just had spring break.”

“That was more than a month ago.”

“Right. So we just had it.”

“And we didn’t do anything for it, remember? You said you had things you wanted to do around the house so we stayed in town and then you mostly went into school to read.”

“You said you were fine with it.”

“I was,” she said, though she wasn’t. “But that’s not the point. I’m talking about summer vacation.” She tossed a blue booklet at him. “Do you know what that is?”

Finn glanced at the booklet that had landed at his feet. “I would say a passport,” he said to his wife, “but I’m guessing it’s a trick question.”

“It’s a passport that has only been used once in the nearly ten years I’ve had it.”

“I’m sorry.” It was Finn’s go-to answer these days.

Hollis stood looking at the man she’d once described as obsessed with her. But that was back in the days when they couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop staring at each other. That was when … She couldn’t quite bring herself to think it: that was when we were in love.

But they were still in love. They just weren’t … She didn’t know what they weren’t, frustratingly, but they weren’t something that they used to be.

Hollis moved toward him, standing between her husband and the television. “On my thirtieth birthday you told me that once we had tenure we’d spend our summers traveling the world.”

“How old are you now?”

“Forty. My birthday was last month. You had one too many whiskeys and threw up in a plant.”

“I thought that was my birthday.”

“Yours is in July. Also forty, in case you’ve forgotten that too.”

“Forty. Geez, and we’re still sexy as ever.”

“Are we? We used to spend hours staring at each other.”

“No need.” Finn pointed to his temple. “I’ve got you memorized now.”

She knew he was trying to be funny, but the idea that there was nothing more to learn about her just made her sad. “I’m changing, Finn. You might want to look again.”

“You look the same as you always did—medium height, skinny, with dark brown hair. Although you are getting gray around the temples. It’s cute.”

She tucked a few strays from her hair behind her ear and made a mental note to call her hairdresser. She tried to make eye contact but was competing with a forty-inch flat screen. And losing. “Are you even listening to me?”

He let out a grunt. “We’ll see the world, Holly.”

“When?”

“After the game.” He leaned forward in his chair and pushed his wife’s slender hips slightly to the left.

She stood her ground for a moment then decided to change tactics. She slid next to him on the chair.

“What now?”

She kissed his neck. “I just miss us.”

“We’re right here.”

“We’re always right here. That’s the problem. I want to go somewhere. I want to see the world before I’m too old to enjoy it.”

“Call your sister. She’s always taking off for some exotic land. Didn’t she go to Marrakesh or something last year?”

“She went to New Mexico.”

“I knew it was somewhere. Maybe you can go with her this summer. Or go by yourself. You’d have fun.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I want to go with you. I want us to do things together. Finals are over in a few weeks and we’ve got months of free time.”

Finn took a deep breath, then said quietly, “I’m teaching this summer.”

Hollis pulled back. “No, you’re not.”

“I told the dean I’d do an Intro to European Literature,” he said. “It’s sort of an overview for incoming freshman who want to get a jump on their courses.”

“Why do you have to teach that? You’re a nationally recognized expert in European literature—”

“Internationally,” he corrected her, then smiled a little.

“Okay, internationally known expert,” she said. “Why waste a whole summer with incoming freshman?”

“I think it would be fun to get back to the basics. Maybe you could teach this summer too, and we could hold hands on our way to class.” He patted her thigh. “That way we could spend more time together.”

He had not once during the entire conversation turned his head from the game. The Cubs were losing by six runs. It was a bloodbath, and a meaningless bloodbath at that. It was late April, just three weeks into the season, and plenty of time for the team to prove themselves a powerhouse or go down in a blaze of glory. But whatever happened, it wouldn’t be decided on this day, with this game. And yet, knowing this, Finn still did not turn from the TV.

There were times in the last few years when she’d lay awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to get in her car and drive away, never to return. To start over completely with nothing of her old life, even Finn. She’d never do it, of course. And she’d never tell Finn even if it was a harmless fantasy. She felt just thinking it was a betrayal somehow.

“Every fall I teach the same subject to a group of students who look and act the same as the students the year before,” she said, instead of admitting her daydreams. “I put the same decorations up at Christmas, plant the same flowers in the backyard every spring, and every summer I tell you I want to travel. And you know what you say, Finn? ‘We will.’ But we don’t.” Her eyes were watery as she tried to explain.

He was silent for a moment. “We don’t have to be one of those couples that’s always doing stuff to spice up their marriage, do we?” he said finally. “I love you, Holly. You’re the only woman I ever want to be with. That’s enough, isn’t it?” He squeezed her thigh. “Take a class in something. You once said you wanted to learn pottery.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Run, idiot,” he yelled at the TV.

“That’s your answer?”

“I was going to suggest you start work on a new book. You’ve been talking about doing something on the United Nations,” he said. “But the last time I asked you about your writing, you bit my head off.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But I can’t find a fresh approach. That’s another good reason for a vacation. It will help me take a step back and get perspective. Maybe you could help me brainstorm on some topics.”

Finally he looked at her. “Seriously, Hollis, can’t this wait until after the game?”

“Because the game is more important than me?”

“Because the game is live. I only have one chance to watch it. But we’re going to have this conversation about thirty times between now and summer break, so I can catch it the next time you get in one of your moods.”

Hollis jumped off the chair. “You don’t even see the problem. I want to do things, and you want to sit in that damn chair watching other people do things.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but she wasn’t really sure if he was talking to her or the batter who had just been tagged out.