For some people it happens gradually\u2014a slow fade, a steady separation, like cracks on the sidewalk in the heat of summer. A few compromises, a few failures, and just the right kind of pressure, and one day you wake up and oh God I have no idea how we got here but my life is falling apart.<\/p>\n
For me and Lia it was different.<\/p>\n
For us there was a moment. An actual moment. I saw the exact second things started to fall apart.<\/p>\n
We were fighting about my work schedule. It wasn\u2019t the first time this had come up; we\u2019d felt the tension for a little under a month now, circling over one another like cartoon vultures. But things got bad that night. We crossed some lines.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I just don\u2019t get why you\u2019re angry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m angry because I don\u2019t feel like a priority, Kevin,\u201d she said. It wasn\u2019t a yell, but there was an aggression in her words. \u201cI feel like a distraction. I know your job description; the firm doesn\u2019t make you work these kinds of hours if you don\u2019t want them to. But you work them. So… so you want to.\u201d She took a breath. \u201cYou want to be there more than you want to be here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLia, I swear this is just a temporary situation. It\u2019s a stepping stone to accomplishing a bigger goal. You just gotta give me a little more\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat bigger goal, Kevin?\u201d Her voice cracked. She sounded exasperated. \u201cA raise? A promotion? You really think those things will make it easier?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded and then stared at her, silently. I didn\u2019t like her question.<\/p>\n
She raised her eyebrows.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, so let\u2019s say you\u2019re right,\u201d I said. \u201cLet\u2019s say I cut down work hours and spend more time here. What then? What do you honestly think I\u2019m gonna be able to give you that you don\u2019t already have?\u201d<\/p>\n
More silence. This time a little less uncomfortable.<\/p>\n
Then the moment.<\/p>\n
I saw it in her eyes. That frightening thought, creeping across from the periphery of her consciousness like a spider along the sealed edge of the bathtub. She didn\u2019t even say it out loud, but I saw her eyes change as it happened; a slow realization, followed by a sudden, momentary shock at what she was capable of thinking.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t want this anymore<\/p>\n
It was enough to stop the argument. She muttered a few concessions and walked away. I didn\u2019t press it. I figured I had gotten what I wanted, and so we let it slide. I kept working. She didn\u2019t say anything. Neither did I. We were scared we might fight again\u2014fight tooth and nail, the way we\u2019d said we never would. We kept it like that for a while, brooding.<\/p>\n
But the thought stayed. It watched and waited, feeding and growing in that dark corner of her mind, as if the spider in the bathtub had hidden an egg sac just ready to burst with hundreds of tiny eight-legged offspring ready to crawl all over our marriage. Every once in a while I saw the thought poke its head out into the daylight, in the form of a word, a gesture, a gift that tried to reel me back into a domestic web, away from the hours of jungle-like reports and transcripts and budgets. I never said anything. Like her, I didn\u2019t want to fight. The tense silence of a night where neither of us touched the other was endurable\u2014why risk that with a fight?<\/p>\n
But tense silence didn\u2019t last.<\/p>\n
So we did fight. We fought hard. A few months of pent-up loneliness, fear, insecurity makes for a hell of a lot of pressure on a spider\u2019s egg sac. And I\u2019m a lawyer. I know how to argue when I want to, when I feel like I have nothing to lose. I know how to make someone feel like they\u2019ve lost an argument before it\u2019s even begun.<\/p>\n
For a month we fought. Pretty much every night by the end of it. We tried couples\u2019 counselling a couple of times, but it didn\u2019t really work. And by the time we were tired of fighting, silent exhaustion was all that was left.<\/p>\n
I came home from the office one day to find the house almost empty. It was jarring how much space was left. I looked around for the bookshelf on the far wall and the paintings Lia had made to hang in the dining room.<\/p>\n
She was standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand. She turned to look at me as I walked in.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re leaving?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d she whispered. She looked like she was about to cry.<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI dunno, Kev, I just… this wasn\u2019t what I thought being married to you was going to be like.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put my briefcase on the counter and walked around beside the stove. \u201cWhat did you think it would be like?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head slowly and sighed. \u201cFulfilling, I guess? I dunno. I think I was just looking for something more; something you just… don\u2019t wanna give me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I just… I can\u2019t be just another part of your life\u2019s portfolio. I feel like that\u2019s how you see me. And I can\u2019t do it anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Annexing the contents of the house was easier than it should have been. Neither of us really wanted to draw it out, so the haggling ended up being pretty clinical. Precise. Almost embarrassingly easy.<\/p>\n
We drove home silently one day, emotionally exhausted from the endless parade of brown board rooms, legal forms, and meetings. Eroding hours had left her consciousness sore. I felt a heavy weight knotting in my stomach as I parked the car and walked up the driveway in silence.<\/p>\n
We had agreed that tonight I would sleep on the couch. I walked into the bedroom to grab my pillow and a set of blankets. I found her looking at her drawer of gifts I\u2019d given her.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you gonna keep those?\u201d I asked. I felt a catch in my throat.<\/p>\n
She was holding a plank of wood on which I\u2019d drawn or written in Sharpie a whole slew of funny quotes and moments and memories we\u2019d shared together. I\u2019d given it a year after we\u2019d started dating. I thought of the smile she\u2019d worn as she\u2019d first examined it; the ringing laughter as she read over each one and investigated the crudely-drawn cartoons.<\/p>\n
She tilted it in my direction.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you want it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head slowly. \u201cI gave it to you. I meant for you to have it.\u201d<\/p>\n
She handed it to me anyway.<\/p>\n
I took it.<\/p>\n
I sat on the living room couch, staring at the piece of wood, thinking back hard to that first year of our relationship, trying to wrap my emotional fingers around all the moments we\u2019d shared together.<\/p>\n
Someone else might have described that moment as one of memories flooding back. But it wasn\u2019t. It was more like fumbling in the dark, and dragging your hand over an invisible, yet familiar shape, then running your fingers along its edges and reminding yourself of its size, weight, and structure. Bringing it out in the light to examine. That\u2019s what it was like for me that evening. For hours I read through quotes and traced my finger over cartoons.<\/p>\n
What had happened to us?<\/p>\n
I thought back to her words the day she had decided to divorce me. Fulfillment, she had said. She had married me looking for fulfillment.<\/p>\n
What had I married her for?<\/p>\n
It was dark by the time I wandered back towards the bedroom and stood in the doorway, looking down at her as she lay wrapped up in the bedding. I stared at her silently as her long, dark hair spilled over the side of the pillows, and the shadows contoured gently, elegantly down the edges of her face.<\/p>\n
Even after all we\u2019d been through, it was hard not to see how beautiful she was.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not sure if it was a few minutes or a few hours before she moved, curving her legs up to prop herself forward, arms reaching over to flip on the bed lamp.<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything okay?\u201d she moaned, squinting at the light.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not sleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
I leaned against the doorway and closed my eyes. A half-asleep chuckle spurted out of my lungs. I opened my eyes again.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are beautiful,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cKev, we\u2019re… we\u2019re basically divorced. You say stuff like that, it\u2019s only gonna make it harder.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s hard for you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, sure it\u2019s hard. Just because this isn\u2019t what I wanted doesn\u2019t mean it doesn\u2019t hurt to let it go.\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked inside and sat down on a chair on the inside of the doorway.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill you marry me?\u201d<\/p>\n
She rolled her eyes, turned over on her side, and flopped back down on the mattress. \u201cI think it\u2019s a little late to save this marriage, Kev. We\u2019re getting divorced. No going back on that now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked around the bed and knelt down on the other side.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo save this marriage, sure. I asked will you marry me. Again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her brow furrowed. But even in her stupor, I could tell a part of her wanted to smile. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure, this marriage, this… game… it\u2019s toxic. I figure you married me because you were chasing a fulfillment I couldn\u2019t give you. Maybe wouldn\u2019t give you. And I figure I married you because you fit well into my five-year plan. Like it would prove somehow that I\u2019m a big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA match made in heaven,\u201d she said sarcastically.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, hard to believe how that one could fall apart,\u201d I chuckled. \u201cThat\u2019s why I want another one.\u201d<\/p>\n
She propped her head up on her elbow. \u201cBut another one with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sighed. \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat makes you think it\u2019s gonna turn out any differently?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause this time it\u2019s not gonna be about the status I can get from you,\u201d I said. \u201cThis time it\u2019s gonna be about what I can give<\/span>.\u201d<\/p>\n She thought about it quietly. \u201cIs this so that you don\u2019t have to sleep on the couch tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n I chuckled. \u201cWhen you\u2019re my size, it\u2019s not a very comfortable couch.\u201d<\/p>\n She half-smiled as her eyelids drooped low. \u201cThis sounds like one of those things that\u2019s really easy to say and not mean,\u201d she said. \u201cLike you\u2019re saying you want to give me something but really what you\u2019re hoping is that I\u2019ll reciprocate so that I\u2019ll give you<\/i> something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve been fighting for months,\u201d I said. \u201cI know saying this is going to cost me something. The same way I know it\u2019ll mean ironing out some kinks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKinks are fun,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah they are,\u201d I said, chuckling. \u201cI\u2019m not asking for anything, Lia,\u201d I said. \u201cBut I\u2019ll give you everything I can. Everything I have. Time, energy, focus\u2014I\u2019ll give it to you, Lia. It\u2019s yours. I think\u2014I think I wanna try not being selfish right now.\u201d<\/p>\n She lay there, silently, and let out a long, tired sigh. I sat there in the light of the bed lamp, for the first time in a long time, comfortable in the same room with Lia.<\/p>\n \u201cHold me,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n I walked around the bed, shut off the light, and snaked my way under the covers, my hand sliding gently over her smooth, arcing midriff. I pulled my body in close and felt the warmth of her back in my nose.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n The following day I went to the hardware store after work to buy a huge block of wood and another Sharpie. I walked in the door and handed it to Lia.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n I handed her the Sharpie. \u201cI want us to fill this one in together.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Wooden Promises For some people it happens gradually\u2014a slow fade, a steady separation, like cracks on the sidewalk in the heat of summer. A few compromises, a few failures, and just the right kind of pressure, and one day you wake up and oh God I have no idea how […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2283,"parent":148,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1827","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1827","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1827"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1827\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2222,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1827\/revisions\/2222"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/148"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2283"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue18\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1827"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}