Page 69 of Woman on the Verge

He sends a party-hat emoji.

Him: I’ve worn you down already?

I regretted ending things immediately after I did it

Him: So it’s not just me feeling this thing?

It’s not just you

Him: I know you’re hesitant. It’s long distance and everything. We can be mellow. I just want to see you

Maybe I can come back up this weekend

I wasn’t planning to, had told Merry and my dad that I’d be back in a couple of weeks. But I have every right and reason to change my mind.

Him: You serious?

It would be cruel if I wasn’t

He sends a musical-note emoji.

Him: Music to my ears

We text until nearly midnight. The crushing fatigue I’ve felt all day vanishes. When I tell him I have to go to bed, it’s not because I’m tired but because I know the girls will be up early andthenI’ll be tired.

Him: Alright then, night-night Kit Kat

We send each other kissy-face emojis, and I head back to the bedroom with a stupid smile on my face. Kyle is sleeping deeply enough to snore. I get under the covers and stare at the ceiling, heart slamming in my chest. I rehearse what I’ll say to Kyle:

I want to tell Merry about the official diagnosis in person. I feel like I should be there every weekend, for a while at least.

I’m still wide awake at two, then three. I don’t care, though. Even if the girls call for me at five, I’ll have a smile on my face.

Chapter 13

Rose

September 21, 1984

Dear Diary,

Last night, after putting Nicole to bed, I told Rob that I was on edge, that I felt cooped up being home with her all the time. His response: “Take her out more! She’d love that!” He keeps saying, “It will get better,” but I’m not sure ifitis motherhood oritis my attitude. I presume he thinks it’s me that’s the problem, not motherhood itself.

Maybe he’s right.

He wanted to have sex this morning before leaving for work. He was abuzz with excited energy at the prospect of putting the final coats of paint on the walls of his practice. He expected me to be abuzz by proxy. I was not abuzz. I was exhausted. Nicole called for me at two o’clock in the morning. She has these nightmares sometimes. Or that’s what she says. Sometimes I think she just inherited my insomnia and wants company. In any case, it took me an hour to gether back to sleep. Then it took an hour after that for me to get back to sleep. Then it was an hour after that when Rob started kissing my neck.

InThe Sexual Responsibility of Women, published in 1957, Maxine Davis encouraged wives to shoulder the burden of “sexual adaptation.”

InThe Total Woman, published in 1974, Marabel Morgan advised wives to greet their husbands at the front door naked, Saran Wrapped like leftover meatloaf.

Wives are not supposed to rebuff their husbands.

And rebuff is exactly what I did.

I love that word,rebuff. To check, repel, refuse, drive away.

He was frustrated. He said he wished I could join him in his enthusiasm about “the future.”The futuremeaning his practice. He has assumed that his future is my future. Society calls this kind of merging beautiful. I find it unjust at best, suffocating at worst.

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