The silence is oppressive. My fingers tighten, white-knuckling the wheel. “Do you think it’s…going to snow tonight?”
I am nauseated as soon as the words are out, so empty and impersonal. It’s like we’ve never met before, never touched each other, never felt each other’s heartbeats or skin.
It’s like we’ve never been in love before.
She shrugs in answer to my pathetic question. “Probably.”
The nausea lurches and I feel hot all over. The car seems to have shrunk in the past five seconds. I want to stomp on the brakes, jerk us to a halt, and shove out of this tight space. I want to leave it all behind. Every fucking thing.
But there’s nowhere else to go. So I keep on driving.
In fact, I’m so absorbed in this mundane task that I miss the turn that leads to our house. I keep driving straight and come to a stop in front of the park entrance. Only then does Hadley notice where we are.
“What…What are we doing here?” She turns to me. I’m ashamed to admit it gives me pleasure to see her disorientation. It gives me pleasure to see her need me, even if it is for something as inconsequential as seeking the answer to her question.
“I want to show you something.” My voice is quiet, despite the roar inside my body.
Her golden-brown eyes flick over my face. It’s probably the first time all night that she’s been aware of me, and like a fucking beggar, I take it. I rejoice in her undivided attention.
It’s gone too soon though. She jumps out of the car and I follow her. I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea, but I’m running out of options. I need her to understand.
Our footsteps crunch, filling the silence as I direct her to our destination: the bench under the white-flowered tree, the very spot where I proposed to her.
As the bench comes into view, surrounded by heaps of snow and spotlighted under the lamp, the night changes into that day from eight years ago. I’m thrown back to that rainy afternoon, when I told her I wanted to spend my life with her. I was going to go away to the city for grad school and I wanted her to come with me.
“Do you remember this place? You waited for me, as always.” I swallow. “And as always, I was late. I thought you’d be gone. I was rehearsing all the apologies in my head, but there you were, and I just stopped. I had to catch my breath for a second. You were so beautiful and calm and…soft.” I plow my numb fingers through my hair. “I felt so inadequate, like I didn’t deserve you. I’ve always been such a…moody asshole.”
My words trail off as Hadley turns around and faces me. I don’t know what I was expecting to see on her expression, but it wasn’t this…deathly stillness. She is like a blank piece of paper. She is almost one-dimensional in her absence of emotions, as if she has no depth whatsoever, nothing beyond the surface.
“I want to go home.” Her voice is the same, quiet and soft, but it sounds all wrong with her expressionless, indifferent face.
“Hadley—”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“You promised.” My voice thunders. I clench my fists to get it under control. “You promised you’d try. We both did. And I’m trying, Hadley. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying to be the kind of husband you deserve.”
Anger and fear are warring inside me. What if I can never get through to her? What if I can never make her understand how much I have changed? What if she asks for a divorce again? I remember the invisible jolt I felt when she asked for it that day months ago. Her demand was a boom inside my body, an implosion of organs, my heart. I hadn’t even realized things had gotten so bad.
“Is that why we’re here? In this town?”
“Yes, because you love it here. You always wanted to move back.”
“But you hate this town.”
“I don’t care. I’d do anything for you.”
“Even give up your writing?”
I flinch at this. I’m not used to hearing it out loud. It’s not something we talk about. For years, I lived on words, on creating them, molding them. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I loved Hadley too. Words made me forget my wife, and I fucking hate them now. I don’t want them. For her, I’ll give everything up.
“Yes. Nothing means more to me than you.” I shake my head, tired of this longing, this need for her. “Don’t you get it? You give up anything for the people you care about. I’m just doing what you’re supposed to do in love.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, hurting me but making me happy because they mean she still cares. This display of emotion makes me take a few steps forward, but I come to a halt when her face changes. The emotions are erased and her expression has turned blank again.
“I want to go home. I’m tired.” She doesn’t give me time to respond, simply begins walking back to the car.
It takes me a few seconds to move. Anger is like hot lava, burning my flesh. She keeps rejecting me at every turn. Why the fuck can’t she see what I’ve given up to be with her? Why won’t she forgive me? Why aren’t things getting better when I’m doing everything I can to make them so?
Ten minutes later, we are home.
We enter the house through the kitchen door. Home is a bit of stretch. It doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t have a personality yet. It’s too new, smells too much of paint and wood. Unlike in the city, it’s too quiet in here; I’d rather be sleeping through the blaring siren of a fire truck than sitting in the unnatural silence. Small towns make me think I’m all alone in the world.
Hadley moves like a ghost, with light feet and grace, as if she’s floating. She drifts up the stairs and just as she reaches the landing, a shrill cry echoes. Nicky is up. Hadley winces at the sound, pauses a moment in front of his door, but then moves on.
I fist my hands at my sides. I can take her indifference toward me. It fucking hurts, but I can take the pain—but her indifference toward Nicky makes me want to throttle her. I breathe in deep and climb up the same stairs. I come to Nicky’s white door and my sweaty palms slip over the knob as I turn it.
The room is lit by moonlight and a lamp with sea animals on the shade. It stands on the dresser right next to the rocking chair Susan, our nanny, is currently occupying. She has Nicky in her arms and she is gently cooing in his ears. I pad inside the room and she looks up at me, smiling slightly.
“He’s just being a little fussy,” she tells me as she stands.
I reach over and take Nicky in my arms, relieving her. I rock him with practiced ease and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay. I got him. You should go on home.”
She rubs circles on Nicky’s back, trying to soothe him alongside me. “Are you sure? I can stay. You should get some sleep. You have work in the morning.”
Nicky fists the collar of my shirt and tries to put it into his mouth. I clutch his chubby fist and place a soft kiss on it. “I’ll be okay.” She doesn’t know how many sleepless nights I’ve spent under this roof.