Page 4 of The Husband Diet
But I wasn’t giving up on our family dream – he’d have to crack sooner or later. So, to get the ball rolling again, I suggested we enroll the kids on an Italian language and culture course.
‘Italian?’ Ira folded his paper and sighed his usual sigh that always began an argument. ‘You’re not still going on about Tuscany, are you?’
Going on? So it was like that, was it? ‘Ira, youknowwe’d be so much happier. Why shouldn’t we do this?’
‘Because this is America! Nobody leaves America.’
‘Yes, they do. Lots of people are returning to their homelands.’
‘Italy isn’t our homeland.’
‘It is mine.’
‘And when was the last time you went to Italy?’
‘Every year up until I met you,’ I challenged.
But Ira was shaking his head, completely closed to the possibility. Which wasn’t fair. This was my life, too. And the children’s. I wanted a more genuine existence. I didn’t mean cows and sheep, for Christ’s sake, but at least some open spaces where we could go biking and for afternoon walks, where the sun shone ten months of the year. Like one of my mother Marcy’s size four designer Versace shoes, the city lifestyle here was too tight for me. I needed space to breathe.
‘It’s out of the question,’ he said finally, throwing his paper down.
I followed him into the bedroom, where he began to rummage through his drawers.
I rested my hands on my hips. ‘Why? Why is it out of the question?’
‘Because I’ll never move to Italy. I’d hate it and the children would, as well. Just accept it so we can get on with our lives, OK?’
It would have been easier just to give up and cry in frustration. But I was a strong woman and a mother of three (yes, I’m counting Ira).
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ I said, feeling my patience slowly strengthening again.
He watched me warily, his hand buried in a neat pile of socks.
‘I’ll forget about Tuscany – for now – if you agree to let the kids take Italian lessons.’
He groaned. ‘Is this one of your tricks, Erica? Because it won’t work.’
‘It’s not a trick. All I want is for them to learn the language. That’s all I ask.’
Ira stalled.
‘What difference does it make to you?’ I urged in earnest. ‘I’ll be the one ferrying them back and forth to lessons anyway.’ I didn’t mention I’d also be paying their tuition, because then he’d get defensive about income again. Tech.Com still wasn’t doing well (actually, it was a bottomless money pit), but he never wanted to talk about it. ‘Don’t you remember, Ira? Don’t you remember our dreams?’
He shook his head. ‘But that’s just it, Erica. It was only ever that – a dream. It’s time to wake up. Besides, have you eventhoughtabout me? About my company? Or am I expected to ditch everything and chase you around the globe?’
‘Would you?’ I asked hopefully. ‘Like you said you would, once upon a time.’
‘That was a very long time ago and our lives have changed since then,’ he said, demolishing the neat piles of socks in search of his favorite pair and then starting to upturn the second drawer in search of a pair of briefs.
‘Changed for the worst,’ I muttered. And when he glared at me, I added defensively, ‘You’re always saying how you hate Boston.’
‘That’s only when I’m stressed!’
I raised my evil eye at him. ‘Ira, level with me here. You’re always stressed. And you’re really getting on my nerves. I can’t remember the last time you and I had a laugh together, or a decent conversation.’ Nor could I remember the last time he’d kissed me – the last time I’d felt any love vibes flowing between us, in fact.
‘That doesn’t mean that I have to bury myself in the Tuscan hills.’
So, it looked as if Ira would rather drive nine-inch nails into his skull before agreeing to Tuscany. That could easily be arranged.
