The Friends We Keep

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Was she feeling better physically? She was—that couldn’t be helped. But as to the rest of it, she was less sure about anything.

She walked out into the hallway, then turned toward the living room. At least their house was one story—she didn’t have to worry about navigating stairs. She made it to the slider, then stepped outside onto the patio.

It was warm and sunny—a contrast to how she was feeling on the inside. The fight with Morgan had been the first thing she’d even somewhat enjoyed since coming home from the hospital. She didn’t want to be in her own skin anymore, let alone live her life. Yet here she was, moving one foot in front of the other.

She looked at the backyard. It had been recently mowed and several of the dead bushes had been replaced with new ones.

“You’ve been busy,” she said.

“I can only check on you so many times in an hour. I had to do something with my time.”

“You should go back to work.”

“I will. On Monday.”

She had another couple of weeks until she was cleared to do the same. And then what? Keep going at her job until she was old enough to retire? Look forward to vacations every couple of years? Repaint the living room?

She felt the desperate sadness that haunted her, filling her, pressing down on her until breathing was impossible. She sat in one of the battered wicker chairs and fought against the tears.

Rob moved next to her. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sorry you had to deal with surgery. I’m sorry you almost died.”

Okay, that she could believe. But the rest of it? “You’re not sorry I have to give up.”

“No, I’m not. I’m glad I don’t have to worry that you’re going to die trying to have a baby. You’re going to get stronger and heal and then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

“We?”

“I never stopped loving you, Hayley.”

Maybe not, but he’d left her. Abandoned their marriage. “How am I supposed to trust you?” she asked. “Believe in you?”

“I’m here.”

“Until I do something else you don’t approve of.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it. You were going to die.”

“But I didn’t die. You left because I wouldn’t do what you wanted. I don’t know what to do about that.”

“Talk to me.”

She looked out at the new plants. “What is there to say?”

“So after all this, I’ve lost you anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were being unreasonable. No one could get through to you.”

“You’re saying, no matter what, you’ll never leave again? I can depend on you?”

“You’re asking for blind faith.”

She looked at him. “So are you. I’m supposed to get over what happened and at the same time, welcome you back, all the while knowing you could walk out at any time. I had a hysterectomy, Rob. I can’t have children, ever. My dream is over and dead and here we are. So you get what you want, but what do I get? What’s different for me? Nothing.”

“Is that what you think? That I didn’t want children?”

“Not as much as I did.”

He studied her for a long time. “You’re right. I didn’t want them as much as you. I wasn’t willing to let you die. If that makes me the bad guy, I can live with that.”

*

One of the hallmarks of a successful marriage was the ability to fight fairly. Every article and relationship book said that. Gabby knew it was true, and important. That both parties stay respectful. That people were able to speak and that they were listened to. That both sides were assumed to be coming from a good place. Voices were calm, facts and opinions shared, consensus reached. It was the right thing to do.

Only Gabby didn’t want to do the right thing. She still wanted to scream and stomp her foot. She wanted to poke Andrew in the chest with a stick of some kind. Not enough to hurt him badly—she would settle for a slight, disfiguring wound.

As that wasn’t going to happen, she’d prepared her points in advance. She’d written them down and practiced her Zen breathing. Or however close she could get for someone who didn’t actually do the Zen thing.

Andrew had arrived home from his business trip the previous evening. They’d agreed to postpone their conversation until the morning, when they were both rested and the kids were in camp. Because no matter the crisis, life went on.

While Andrew had slept, she’d tossed and turned, working on her argument. Now the kids were safely out of the house and she sat in Andrew’s home office, was facing the man she knew she loved.

She told herself they would get through this, but she honest to God wasn’t sure anymore.

“Andrew, I believe you understand that going back to work is important to me,” she began, careful to keep her voice neutral. “You’ve always been extremely supportive.”