“Jude, no.” I push at him. “Don’t.”
He comes to a halt, pausing over me, his forearms shaking with the effort.
His breath comes in pants, then it slows, then he rolls over to the side.
I feel a bit weak, and I’m embarrassed by the panic. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I was just trying something new,” Jude says finally, his voice low. “I wasn’t really choking you. I would never hurt you, Corinne. Surely you know that.”
“I do,” I answer quickly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess it was just unexpected. It wasn’t like you...and...”
I don’t know what else to say. My heart is starting to slow down now, and I feel ridiculously self-conscious. What the hell is wrong with me?
“It’s okay,” he assures me, but somehow his voice seems empty, or offended. Something seems off. “We won’t try rough sex again.”
“It’s not that,” I protest. “Just maybe tell me first next time.”
“Okay.”
We’re silent for a while, and he turns to me slightly, his lips in my hair. It should feel intimate, but instead, it doesn’t. It feels like we’re a million miles apart. We’re doing the right things, but it’s lacking substance. We’re on autopilot, going through the motions. I wonder if Jude feels the same way, and I wonder why it feels this way.
I feel a moment of panic, because marriage isn’t supposed to be like this.
“Jude?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you feel like something is wrong? With us, I mean?”
This rouses him, and I can feel him staring at me, and a weird tension pops up between us. I can practically feel it on my skin, like it’s a living thing.
“Maybe.”
“What should we do?” My level of panic increases, and my grip on Jude’s arm is tight, and the weird tension grows.
“We’ll be okay,” he rushes to reassure me. “Because we want to be. It’s just a slump. Our priorities aren’t in order. We just need to get them straight, Co. We’ll be okay.”
Just as soon as I change my whole life to suit his ideals.
Where did that awful thought come from? I chastise myself. He wants only what every normal person wants—to see their spouse and have children. What is wrong with me? I have no call to resent him.
Minutes pass before Jude gets up.
“I’d better shower for work.” He retreats to the bathroom, and the bed is empty without him. He doesn’t have time for a run, and I doubt he’ll have time for breakfast.
I run my hand over the empty sheets, idly looking at the Jude-sized indentation he left behind. Whatever semblance of intimacy I felt twenty minutes ago is gone now, even though my thighs are still damp from his presence between them.
Something in me wants to go to the bathroom and step in the shower with him, and force a sense of intimacy to return. But something else tells me in a louder voice that I can’t force it. It’s not there to force. We have to somehow figure out how to rebuild it.
I throw on a robe and trudge to the kitchen to make some coffee, and I pour Jude a go-cup. When he comes out from the bedroom, his hair is still damp, his face freshly shaved, and he has that “clean man” smell. He’s long and lean in his black trousers and cream-colored sweater. I kiss his cheek, and his mouth curves against mine.
It’s quick, but it’s there. A smile.
“It’s going to be okay, right?” I hate the uncertainty in my voice. He glances at me quickly, and I remember for the millionth time in my life that my husband is a very sexy man. His hazel eyes glint in the sun warmly, and I search them for truth.
“Of course, Co. It’s not even a question.”
He’s sincere, and he’s sure, and I feel a bit better because of that. I watch his black Land Rover disappear from the driveway. Marriages go through peaks and valleys. I knew that when we got married. It just seemed at the time like valleys would never happen.
It’ll all be fine. It has to be. We both work too hard at life to not be fine.
I can’t shake the uncertainty, though, and so I do the only thing I know to do. I call my sister.
“Hey, you,” she answers cheerfully on the first ring.
“Do you and Teddy have issues...in the bedroom?” I ask hesitantly without preamble.
My sister pauses. “Issues as in...”
“As in, you never make time for sex, and when you do, Teddy can’t get it up half the time?”
Jackie laughs, a raspy sound. “Of course. That’s what happens when you get old, weirdo. The soldier just doesn’t salute as easily.”
“I’m not old,” I tell her. “And neither is Jude.”
“Of course not,” she agrees. “But in penis years, he’s like...fifty-five. So be patient.”
“Penises aren’t like dogs,” I tell her. “They don’t have their own time system.”
“I disagree. Once a man hits thirty, years double for penises. It’s practically a fact.”
“Odd that I didn’t learn that in medical school.” I’m droll and Jackie laughs.
“Do you guys try new things from time to time, to spice things up?” I’m hesitant to ask, but the words come out anyway.
“Hell, yeah. Variety is the spice of life.”
Okay. Maybe Jude was right to try something. Maybe I’m a lunatic for freaking out. Something about it, though... Something felt wrong. Really wrong.
We hang up and I take Artie outside.
I stand on the patio and watch her move slowly around the yard. Her muzzle is white now, and her once-strong haunches are thin.
“Artie, come in, girl!” I call, and she rambles leisurely to me. I scratch her ears, and she closes her eyes.
She’s been my family for the longest time. Her and Jude and Jacks. They are all I need in this world. I feed her breakfast before I get ready myself, adding some scrambled eggs to her dog food.
“Don’t tell Daddy,” I tell her. Eggs give her gas, and she knows it. I think she smiles at me.
I shower and actually have time to get ready for work leisurely, instead of getting called in early. I blow-dry my hair and put it in a long braid draped over my shoulder, because that makes me feel young and pretty. I still feel the afterglow of sex with my husband, and I want to keep the good vibe going. I apply makeup and lip gloss and the whole nine yards.
When I walk into the ER an hour later, I feel good, I look good, and Lucy stops in her tracks with an armful of catheters for the supply closet.
“You got some,” she crows. “I can see it on your face! God, why do I have to be a crazy cat lady? All I get is fur on me all the time, no orgasms.”
I laugh without meaning to, and she growls at me. “You don’t get to laugh at my pain.”
This, of course, only makes me laugh at her again, and she rolls her eyes.
“It’s slow today,” she tells me. “For once. It’s just you and Dr. Lane, and there’s a girl in exam room twelve who wants to see a female doctor.”
I nod and head in that direction, stopping to pick up the chart from the door. Glancing through it, I get the main facts.
Female, twenty-four years old, presenting with a migraine.
I slip through the curtain and find her sitting on the table, her feet swinging. She’s young and cute, and I greet her with a smile.
Because I did get some today.
9
Eleven days, nine hours until Halloween Jude
“How does that make you feel?”
I ask my patient the age-old question, and he stares at me, dumbfounded.
“It makes me feel pissed. The bitch cheated on me, Doc!”
I don’t correct him. I don’t remind him that I’m not a doctor, I’m a therapist. And I understand why he’s looking at me like I’m on acid. It was a stupid question under the circumstances, but necessary according to protocol.
“I’m sure,” I assure him, and he nods because in my own way, I’m validating his feelings. “You have every right to be furious. She violated your trust, and because of that, I’m sure you feel vulnerable.”
He nods because of course that’s right. I know it’s right. I see a hundred patients a year who are in this same exact situation.