I owed Jake all that I had.
As we pulled into the driveway to our house, I glanced across at my husband and let my eyes drink him in. Despite being ten years older than me, he was still attractive in a distinguished way. His wrinkles and greying hair didn’t matter so much. It delighted me that he dressed like a typical teacher, with corduroy blazers and patterned ties. On him it looked trendy and sexy, not dowdy like some of the aging geography teachers at the school.
He noticed my searching gaze and flashed me a questioning look. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. The stressful afternoon washed away and was replaced by a feeling akin to real happiness. Sure, I’d had glimpses of happiness over the last decade, but they’d never remained, not like the spreading feeling I was getting now.
Could it be that my life was coming together? Was my happiness overtaking my grief for Aiden and my parents? They say that time is a healer, but I never believed them. I considered myself irrevocably broken after the flood. But it seemed that at last, those pieces were binding together.
Or so I thought.
*
Jake carried the presents into the house and I poured water into a vase and trimmed the stems of the roses. The kitchen came alive with the sounds of our movements, and the plastic bags rustled as Jake put the presents on the dining table. He began unpacking them one by one.
“Was Jane there?” he asked.
“No, she’s hurt her back.”
“Again?” Jake shook his head. “I guess that’s what you get when you let yourself get into that state. How did she do it?”
I bristled at his callous remark. Jane was middle-aged and overweight. She’d missed half the previous term with constant health issues. It was hard not to think that most of her problems would disappear if she’d just lose the weight, but Jake had a brain-to-mouth problem sometimes. He said what other people didn’t dare to. “She twisted her back putting her bra on.”
Jake let out a loud guffaw. “You’re kidding!”
“Hey,” I said, “it’s hard putting a bra on when your skin’s all damp from the shower.”
“Yeah, but still.” He shook his head and carried on removing the presents from the bag. “So Amy bought you this doll then? And you… like it?” He held up the box with the delicate doll inside.
“Yeah, why?”
“You don’t think it’s a bit… creepy?” He lifted the package higher as I stood with my hip resting against the kitchen counter, scissors in one hand and a rose in the other. His fingers dug into the plastic and I wanted to tell him to stop squeezing it like that. The plastic crackled as he moved it about, setting my teeth on edge.
When he put it down the tension abated and I managed a laugh. “Are you one of those people who cried when they had a clown at a birthday party?”
Jake pushed his glasses further up his nose and gave a half-smile. “Only psychopaths find clowns funny. It’s a fact. Just look at John Wayne Gacy.”
I shivered as I plopped the final rose in place and gathered up the wrapping from the flowers, the trimmings caught within the folds.
“Don’t forget to wipe the side down,” Jake said, nodding towards the slight puddle of water I’d left on the counter.
I rolled my eyes but collected a tea towel from the rack to soak up the mess. It was a running joke that Jake had needed to train me to pick up after myself when we first moved in together. He said he used to coach me with praise and slight nudges in the right direction. If I’d been good he’d take me out for dinner. For the first six months I hardly noticed at all. I’d never been concerned with mopping up a little spilled water or picking up my socks from the night before, not until I shared a living space with a neat-freak like Jake. Perhaps I’d been coddled too much by my parents after Aiden died. After all, I did remain living with them until they died. Then, when things became serious with Jake, I sold my parents’ cottage and moved into Jake’s luxurious three-bedroom property on Fox Lane, a stone’s throw from the school.