Marriage Matters

Fifty-five

Kristine sat in her office, going over the numbers for the week. The store was turning a profit and at this rate . . . She leaned back in her chair, surprised. The Places You’ll Go was almost at the point where it could bring in a tiny income. It would only take—

Knock knock.

Looking up, Kristine’s heart skipped a beat. A large bouquet of violets was walking through the door, followed by none other than her husband. He was dressed in his work clothes: a navy blazer, a light blue button-up shirt and a pair of khakis.

Leaping to her feet, she cried, “What are you doing here?”

“Surprising you.” It only took one gigantic step for Kevin to pull her into his arms and kiss her, the flowers mashing in a fragrant mess between them. “You taste so good.” He smacked his lips. “What is that? Lip gloss?”

Kristine pointed at the coffee cup sitting on her desk. “Hazelnut creamer.” Swatting at his broad chest in delight, she said, “I’m so happy to see you. I thought you were in Arizona.”

“I was.” After giving her another quick kiss, he stuffed the violets into a cup of water on her desk. “But I had to come see you because . . . I have something exciting to tell you.”

Kristine’s heart started to pound. There could only be one thing that Kevin would need to tell her in person. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “You told your boss that you can’t travel anymore. They’re finally letting you come in off the road!”

Oh, it would be so good to have her husband back. No more lonely nights, no more weekends in front of ESPN, no more wondering when their life was really going to begin . . .

He coughed. “Uh, not exactly. Something . . . even better.”

“Better?” Kristine was confused. “What could be better than that?”

“A promotion!” Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets and jingled some loose change. “The mother of all promotions, actually.”

“Kevin, that’s great.” Maybe they were letting him run the satellite office here in Chicago. Maybe they could finally sell their house and move back into the city. “What is it?”

“National territory director. It’s practically a forty percent salary increase, a better 401(k) plan, some more vacation time . . .”

Kristine tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “You were regional manager before. So, are you overseeing everyone from corporate or . . . ?”

Kevin’s eyes darted to the pictures on the desk, of them together as a family. In that moment, she got it. Her husband was excited about a job managing the entire country, not just an eighth of it.

“You’re staying on the road.” Gripping the edge of her desk chair, she sank into it. There was a pounding like a rush of water in her ears. She blinked and blinked, trying to process what was happening.

“Firecracker, just hear me out.” Kevin took a cautious step toward her. “Yes, it will mean more travel but—”

“More travel? No!” Kristine was so angry she slammed her hand down on the desk. Her ring cut into her finger and she gasped, cradling her hand against her chest.

“Kris.” Rushing over, he reached for her hand.

Yanking it away, she leapt to her feet. The desk chair rolled backwards and hit the wall. “You promised. You told me you would try to stop traveling so much, not get a job that will put you out there even more!”

“You’ve got to understand . . .” Kevin’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes guilty. Shutting her office door, he pleaded, “This is a major move. A lot of money. I don’t even have an MBA. Do you know what a huge accomplishment this is?”

Kristine cradled her hand, which was pulsing with pain. “Kevin, money doesn’t matter. Our marriage matters. If you want money . . .” She grabbed the store financials from the desk and threw them at him. Papers fluttered to the ground like confetti. “Here. The store is doing just fine. In a year, it might be doing really well.”

“The store is a hobby,” he said. “Not a career.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” She had worked harder at this store than she’d worked at anything in her entire life. “This is certainly more than a ‘hobby.’”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Kevin said with a sigh. He eyed the papers scattered on the floor, shaking his head. “I know you work hard, Kris, but you do it because you love it. This place isn’t going to pay the bills. Please,” he begged. “Let’s be a team. Let’s work together and figure out how to make this happen.”

Kristine hated it when he tried to use “team” terminology on her. Especially since, “Let’s work together and figure out how to make this work” apparently meant “let’s work together and figure out how to make it work for Kevin.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I don’t want you to do this. Turn it down.”

Kevin crouched down into a squat, as though doing calisthenics. “Kris,” he groaned. “I knew you would react like this. I just knew it.” Getting to his feet, he said, “You’re not being realistic—”

“In what way?” she demanded. “Chloe’s almost done with school, June’s paying for the wedding, the store is starting to pay for itself . . .” Kristine glanced down at the store financials littering the floor, still in disbelief that her husband had so little respect for her work that he wouldn’t even acknowledge them. “We have a savings, we have a home. Why do you need so much more?”

Kevin leaned against the desk, his eyes serious. “Kris, if I learned one thing from being unemployed, it’s that opportunities are far and few in between. It would be foolish to turn this down.”

“But you promised me.” She waited for her voice to waver, for the tears to come, but nothing happened. Her voice was as steady and cold as a glacier. “In Venice, you promised me that you would at least try to stop traveling so much.”

“I know, but—”

“So, don’t come in here and put on some big show when this is exactly the opposite of what I want.” With a flick of her wrist, she indicated the bouquet of violets drooping listlessly in the water.

Stepping forward, he reached for her hand. “Kris, you’re hurt.”

When she’d hit the desk, the diamond from her ring had bit into her skin. A tiny trickle of blood ran down her finger. Irritated, she grabbed a tissue and wrapped it around the cut.

They stood in silence for a long, tense moment.

“I have to take this,” he said. “It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, Kristine got down on her hands and knees and gathered the papers up from the floor. She felt light-headed when she stood up. Taking a seat, she pressed her fingers into her temples.

“Things are going to be okay,” he said, his voice gentle.

Kristine wasn’t so sure of that. Sick with disappointment, she stared down at her hands. The tissue she’d wrapped around her finger, once so bright white and perfect, was stained with blood.

“We need to get you a Band-Aid,” he said. “Right away.” Reaching for her hand, he put pressure on the cut. “Does it hurt?”

“Nope.” Kristine shook her head. Her hand, like her heart, was numb. “To be honest, I can’t feel a thing.”