Marriage Matters

Thirty-four

Kristine stood stock-still, stunned. What was Kevin doing here? What had he seen?

Without a word, he stood up and strode toward the stairs.

“Kevin, wait!” She dropped Ethan’s hand and rushed after him, up all three flights of stairs. Her legs burned with the effort, her heart pounding in her ears. “Kevin,” she begged. “It’s not what you think.”

Her husband didn’t look at her, just keyed into her room. The door remained open behind him and she stood in silence, trying to compose herself. The thought that he had been right next to where she’d had dinner, right next to the dance floor . . . A brackish taste filled her mouth. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the icy waves crashing through her heart.

Walking into the room, Kristine locked the door and dared to look at him. Kevin avoided her gaze, ducking into the bathroom. He left the door half open and there was the sound of running water. She bit her nail to the quick, waiting. She jumped slightly as he walked back out, wiping his face with a towel.

Kristine dropped her gaze to the luggage rack, where his suitcase was neatly set out. “That’s amazing.” Her voice came out high pitched, a little drunk. “In the U.S., I can’t even talk to the credit card company without your authorization but here, you’re welcome to just move in.” She felt panic settling in. What was she saying? What had she done? “This room is too small for two people. We’ll need to get something bigger.”

“The room’s fine.” Kevin walked over to the window and threw open the shutters, staring outside. The scent of garlic and onions filled their room from the restaurant down below. The smell made Kristine’s stomach turn. She wondered if Ethan’s window was open. His room was by the alley, too. Would he hear the conversation they were inevitably about to have?

Kevin turned and studied her for a long moment. His eyes were dull, like the ocean after a storm. “You cut your hair.”

Kristine flushed, bringing a hand up to touch it. “I did.”

Dishes clattered downstairs. Absently, she reached for the hair that was no longer there as though to twist it into a tight bun. Frustrated, she dropped her hands.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? It all felt so unfair. Kristine had been loyal for twenty-five years, without exception. Could Kevin say the same? There had been so many times when he was away on his business trips that she couldn’t help but wonder. Had he ever gone for a drink, flirted with a stranger, considered breaking their vows?

In her heart, she’d always trusted him. The same way he’d trusted her. At the thought, a tiny headache pulsed behind her eye.

“I’d like to go to bed,” she said. “I’m tired.”

Kristine wasn’t tired; her stomach was churning with shame. But turning off the lights, climbing into bed and falling asleep sounded like a welcome relief. Much more appealing than having a knock-down, drag-out fight about something she didn’t yet understand.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said.

At first, she thought her husband meant, Sorry you’re tired, but I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.

He surprised her by adding, “I’m sorry, Kristine. I should have come with you. When you asked.”

Kristine squeezed her hands in confusion. Where was the anger? The accusations? She moved her mouth as though to speak but nothing came out.

“But I’m here.” His voice was quiet. “It’s what you wanted, so I . . .” He stopped, as though realizing her wants might have changed completely.

“Yes,” Kristine said quickly. “It’s what I wanted. I’m glad you came.”

Kevin pressed his palm against the windowsill and stared into the night. She followed his gaze to the building across the street. It was the one with the stained yellow walls and faded blue shutters, the one she’d admired from the restaurant. The lights were off in most of the rooms.

Kristine took a seat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was small, which Kevin wouldn’t like. He’d hang off the ends of the bed like an extra appendage that didn’t belong. The thought made her unspeakably sad.

“Please.” She willed her voice not to tremble. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Kevin continued to stare out the window. A motorbike drove by outside. As the sound faded into the distance, her husband said, “Did you sleep with him?”

The question hung in the air between them like exhaust. It was a question that, in all of their twenty-five years of marriage, they’d never had to ask.

Kristine ducked her head. “No.”

Her husband let out a loud breath and buried his face in his hands. He was silent for such a long moment that she didn’t know what to think. Finally, she heard a slight snuffle.

“Are you crying?” Kevin hadn’t cried in front of her in ages.

“When I saw you walk in, holding that guy’s hand . . .” Lowering his hands, he turned to face her. A tiny tear glistened beneath his lower eyelash. It sparkled in the low light of the room.

Kristine felt a lump in the back of her throat. Grabbing for the tiny bottle of water on the bedside table, she took a desperate, cleansing sip. “Kevin, it wasn’t what you—”

He shook his head. “I’ve really f*cked this up. Haven’t I?”

“It’s not you, it’s . . .” Once again, she reached for her hair, desperate to twist it on top of her head. But it wasn’t there anymore. Kristine was so frustrated, her eyes filled with tears. “We don’t see each other enough to talk or just . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Back when they were first married, they’d spent every moment of free time together biking along Lake Michigan, exploring Thai restaurants in search of the perfect curry, taking a boat out with friends . . . When had all of that fallen away? Kristine had spent more time with Ethan this week than she’d spent with her husband all year.

“We’re just not like we used to be,” she said.

“No.” Kevin wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “I guess not.”

Downstairs, someone yelled, “Bellissima!” There was the sound of glasses clinking.

Turning, Kevin closed the window. After a moment, he walked over to her and took a seat on the bed. The mattress dipped, causing her to fall against him. He reached for her hand. Kristine gripped his like an anchor.

“I love you, Firecracker.” Kevin said the nickname slowly, as though it was a foreign word. “I know we haven’t been what you wanted for a while now but that’s going to change. I promise you that.”

Kristine let out a small, shaky breath. She’d waited to hear him say those words for such a long time. But now that he had, the ice that had formed over her heart did not break free and float away as she’d once expected. Instead, a little voice inside her head said, We’ll see.

“I don’t even know what to say about tonight,” he said, staring down at their hands. “I . . .” Looking up at the ceiling, he breathed in sharply through his nose.

Kristine squeezed his hands as hard as she could. “Nothing happened. Kevin, look at me.”

Kevin turned to face her. Her heart ached to think that she had caused him so much pain. It was so hard to believe that he was here, in Italy, just like she’d wanted, but that these were the moments they were sharing.

“I love you.” Her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, too.” The words came out in a rush.

Kristine tried to release his hand, patting it gently, but he held on tight. Kevin leaned in as though to kiss her.

For years, Kristine had entertained actual fantasies about kissing her husband on foreign soil. She imagined a passionate embrace beneath the Eiffel Tower, a stolen moment in a cab in Cairo or even a simple snuggle under the bright lights of Tokyo. But never once had she imagined sharing this kiss on a night when she’d walked into a hotel with another man.

Kristine put her hand on his shoulder before their lips could touch. “It’s been a long night. Let’s just go to bed.” Standing up, she found her pajamas and walked to the bathroom to change.