Page 63 of The Devil You Know
Ben gives me a look. “Come on, Jane. It’s not like you’re helpless. I’m just tired of you running to me every time something goes wrong with your phone or computer without eventryingto fix it yourself.”
Fine, he’s right. I do go straight to Ben every time something goes wrong with my phone or computer. But there was a time when he was happy to help me. There was a time when if I had an issue with my computer, he’d grab it from me and fix it before I even had to ask. He used to love helping me.
When we were dating for about six months, I accidentally clicked on one of those email links that downloaded a nasty virus onto my computer. I was freaking out. Ben lived a subway ride away from me, but when I texted him about it at eleven o’clock at night, he came over immediately. He spent over an hour getting rid of that damn virus, all the while teasing me about not downloading so much porn.
Finally, Ben says, “Try a hard reset.”
“A hard reset?”
He sighs. “Hold down both buttons at once.”
I do the “hard reset” on the phone. And sure enough, after that, the problem seems to be fixed.
I wonder where the hard reset button is on our marriage.
_____
Leah goes to bed without too much difficulty tonight, but by the time I get out of her room, my brain feels fried. All I want to do is veg out with Ben on the couch and maybe watch anIron Chefor something. That would be nice.
Except when I get down to the living room, Ben doesn’t have the television on. He’s sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead, a grim expression on his face. Oh my God, did somebodydie? He really looks like somebody might have died.
“Ben…” I venture. “Is… is everything okay?”
He responds by rubbing his face with his hand. “Not really.”
Somebody died. I knew it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I just…” He looks down at his lap. “Honestly? I feel like I barely know you anymore.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by this statement. All the fights lately, that party in Ronkonkoma, him not returning with us from Reading… it was pretty clear he was unhappy. Yet the statement still hits me like a sucker punch in the gut. “What?”
“We never talk anymore,” he says. “Ever. Our only interaction is you assigning me chores. And then not being happy about how I do them.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you did chores without my having to ask. And didn’t forget half of what I tell you.”
“Right,” he says. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Well, what do you expect?” I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re homeall day, and somehow you can’t even manage to wash one dish. You can’t even manage to change the toilet paper roll!”
“Fuck the toilet paper roll!” Ben stands up now, his arms in angry straight lines at his sides. “I’m talking aboutus, Jane. Our marriage is… I don’t even knowwhatit isanymore. I feel like I can’t eventalkto you anymore. All we do is fight. I just don’t feel close to you anymore.”
I glare at him. I can’t believe he’s bringing up all this bullshit when I’m exhausted from working all day. Of course,he’sgot tons of energy to fight—he just sits around all day. “We talk all the time!”
“Yeah, about what?” he shoots back. “How much you hate Leah’s teacher? Aboutpotty training, which you refuse to even do the right way? I don’t care aboutanyof that. That’s not what I want to talk about with you.”
I nod at the television. “We talk aboutIron Chef.”
“Great,” he mutters. “A television show. That’s all I have in common with my wife.” He shakes his head at me. “Those couple days without you at my mother’s house? It was like… a relief. I enjoyed being alone.”
“Everyone likes being alone sometimes,” I say weakly.
“No.” His lips set into a grim line. “It’s more than that.”
I’m starting to realize this isn’t another one of our silly fights. This is something more. This is what’s been building over the last several years, and getting even worse over the last several months.
He’s quiet for a minute, just staring at me. Finally, he lowers his brown eyes. “I’m not happy, Jane. I’m not happy with my life out here. And I’m not happy with… us.”
