Page 81 of Two Friends in Marriage
As we turn onto another street, Evan points out a house that had beautiful pink hydrangeas earlier in the year.He waves at a woman in her front yard and tells me that she’s a high school teacher.Apparently, while going for his daily walks, my husband has been getting to know the neighborhood in a way that I haven’t.It reminds me of something I want to ask him.
“Remember when I said you could go out without me?You seemed a little uncomfortable with the conversation, and I was wondering…” I keep my tone gentle.“Why don’t you have as much of a social life as you used to?I worry you feel like you’re doing people a favor by not texting them and making plans.”
Evan gives me a startled look and stops walking.“What makes you say that?”
“Sorry, I could be wrong.It was just a feeling.”
Though as soon as I say it, I’m positive I’m right.
He continues walking but at a slower pace.His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.“It’s weird to hear someone say that out loud, rather than inside my head.It sounds more logical in here.”
That this kind, wonderful man could ever think such things about himself…
“When my depression was at its worst and it was difficult to see people—you know, the pandemic—I gave up on many friendships.”
“But not ours,” I say.
“No.After all, we had a marriage pact, which helped me imagine a future for myself when that was a difficult thing to do.”
My heart clenches.I can’t put everything I’m feeling into words, so I settle for squeezing his hand.
“Though sometimes, I felt bad about possibly shackling you to me.Not anymore, don’t worry.”He sighs.“Yeah, I should reach out to some friends.A few people, though, I think it’s best to let go of.But not all of them.”
“I’m happy you’re here with me now.”
“Me, too.”
We feel safe to be vulnerable with each other, and that’s a lovely thing.
By the time we return to the house, Evan is sweaty, even if it’s not very warm.I kiss him right inside our front door, and as I do, I think of how beautiful a word it is.
Ourhome.Ourfamily.Ourlove.
Once upon a time, I felt like I didn’t have a real home or family.But now, I’m putting down roots where I belong.
With Evan Mok.
Epilogue
Evan
I’veforgonemyusualwalk today, but it’s for a good reason: I had to pick up a birthday cake before the bakery closed.
As I drive toward our house, I pass the community mailbox.It occurs to me that I ought to check the mail, just in case, even though I did it yesterday.When I find an envelope for Jane, I’m very glad I stopped.
I arrive home a couple of minutes later.Skylar is attempting to roll a snowball in the small amount of snow we got last night—our first of the season.I wave at her before heading inside my and Jane’s house.After taking off my winter clothes, I walk to the kitchen, where my wife is drinking a cup of water.She’s wearing yoga pants and a cozy sweater, and she looks utterly lovely.I set the bakery box on the counter and give her a quick kiss.
“You can take that scarf off now,” she teases.
I made sure I wore a scarf during my earlier Zoom meeting and when I went to the bakery, but she’s right: I don’t need to hide my hickey when it’s just the two of us.I unwind the scarf from my neck, and I groan as she brushes her fingers over the small mark.
I can’t let myself get too distracted, however.I still have a dinner to cook, but first, I go to the next room and tie the scarf around Watson’s neck.It sort of clashes with his party hat, but I have a feeling he doesn’t mind.Besides, it has the desired effect of making Jane chuckle, and that’s the most important thing.
When I return to the kitchen, she opens the box.Like the one I got her exactly a year ago, it has words written in chocolate, but this time, they say, “Happy Birthday.”
“Is it the same as the bottom tier of our wedding cake?”
“Since your birthday is also the anniversary of our engagement—and you really like this cake—I thought it was appropriate.More appropriate and elegant than, I don’t know, a cake that looks like a hamburger.”I pull her close.“Happy thirty-fourth birthday, Jane.”
