‘I know. I guess you compromised.’
This thought is actually startling. I think of Leo sometimes as a man who does not compromise, and yet, I have just accidentally reminded myself of one of the small ways that he did meet me halfway. It’s such a minor thing but it’s also not, because we really have relied on text messaging a lot over the years to stay in touch.
‘Now I’m even more disappointed about the lost phone,’ he sighs. ‘That would have been a great insight into who we are together.’
Oh, you have no idea. I wonder what he would think if I did let him see those last few messages. Would he be embarrassed at his coldness? I have a feeling he would be, just as I’m embarrassed by some of the things I have done in recent months. The problem with losing a passion like ours is that it can drive a person a little crazy, and when the heat of the moment passes and you’re left to face the aftermath, it can be hard to justify what seemed like a perfectly sensible decision when the anger was running hot.
‘Sorry, Leo,’ I say.
‘Hey, it’s not your fault,’ he smiles at me.
‘Are you settling in okay here?’
‘I’d rather be home, but I know I need to be here.’
‘It’s not for ever,’ I say softly. He nods.
‘I know. How are you going? Are you okay by yourself?’
I laugh, but it’s a sharp sound. My bitterness turns instantly to guilt as Leo winces.
‘I guess you’re used to that.’
‘I’m well and truly capable of looking after myself,’ I assure him tightly. ‘It’s never been the same at home when you’re not there, but I can handle it.’
‘Do I travel less now?’
I really wish I could tell him that he does. That was his plan when we got married – no more than three weeks away at a time, no more than six trips a year. It’s not at all how things have panned out. ‘No, your work is very important to you… and the world has been pretty messy the last few years so you’ve had an endless array of great assignments to choose from. You’ve told a lot of stories no one would ever have heard without you, and you want to focus on building your career for a bit longer.’
I take a moment to ponder the strange pang I feel inside – and it suddenly occurs to me that the reason I’m feeling so conflicted is that I’m justifying to Leo the decisions that he has made which have essentially ruined our marriage. I don’t want to justify these things. When we’ve argued over this, Leo has always been closed – so determined – he would say all of the things I’ve just said, but he would make them seem so irrefutable. Then I would counter with my own demands – basically for some of his attention – which I was also utterly determined about. The end result was always a form of relationship violence – not that either one of us ever raised a hand towards the other – but there are ways to use words to do damage too.
In all of the dozens of times we have argued over this we have been two opposing forces of equal strength, and regardless of how often we collided, we somehow failed to wear each other down even a little.
For a split second I ponder all of this – because right now Leo is vulnerable and open and I could take advantage of that. Instead of parroting back at him all of the excuses he’s given me time and time again, I could calmly point out to him now how unfair it all is to me, and how cruel the situation was – me waiting at home, loving him with such desperation, but always coming second to the rest of the world’s problems.
I know immediately that I can’t do it. Leo is too vulnerable, even more so than in our most intimate moments. For that reason alone, I can’t take advantage of him – as much as I’d like to.
‘Do you hate it?’ Leo interrupts my mental debate, and he asks the question with urgency. I frown at him.
‘Do I hate what?’
‘My job.’
Stunned, I stare at him, unsure how to answer. We really don’t talk about this – we argue about it, we bicker about it – but we don’t talk about it. In the beginning, I didn’t bother to discuss it with him. I figured it was obvious, for a start, but I also assumed we’d both change and our future would be forged from some natural compromise. I’d adjust to his job, and Leo’s drive to work so hard would ease off too.
‘It’s hard,’ I say carefully. I can’t expand on this any further because if I do, I’m not going to be able to hide my fury. Already it is starting to bubble away inside me and all it will take to unleash it is one wrong step or even another question on the subject. Leo is certainly not up to any kind of screaming match. He wheels himself to my side and places his hand over mine – and suddenly it’s just too much because this softness is exactly what I’ve needed from him and it’s coming far too late to make any difference.
I withdraw my hand sharply and rise. He frowns but moves back to give me space to pass him.