Page 49 of The Wife
I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because she hadn’t brought it up.
“I know I kissed you.”
“You did. You were drunk, you didn’t know what you were doing. It’s fine. No harm, no foul. You’re on cleanup duty.”
She slipped her hand out from underneath mine and got up. I watched her pull her stuff together, and she was calling outbye, and the whole thing felt pretty surreal. Like what had happened the other day had been a fight and she was over it. As if my apology had actually worked.
Or it was because she knew Carol was no longer a thing, but somehow I didn’t think that was it. It was like she was resigned to something. Something only she knew and I didn’t.
I didn’t know that I liked that. I did know that I didn’t correct her when she said I didn’t know what I was doing when I kissed her.
I knew exactly what I was doing. I was allowing my drunkenness to give me a free pass. Every day was an exercise in not kissing Ellie. The booze gave me cover to give into my basic instincts.
My stomach filled, my plate clean, my head feeling better now that the pills were doing their thing, I got up and handled the dishes. It wasn’t until I was drying the counter where I had splashed some water that I noticed the scales.
The other day I had moved all ten disks on the left side.
Ellie had moved six to the right.
Not five.
Six.
For some reason that made me feel better than I had in weeks.
* * *
Later that night, I was putting away the dishes from dinner.
“You’re rocking those casseroles,” I told her. “If someone in this town dies, you’re going to have start coming up with what will be your I’m-sorry-someone-is-dead food.”
She chuckled. Weeks of the silent treatment. Weeks of her barely acknowledging me, and now I had made her chuckle.
I was a king.
I decided to push my luck.
“Hey, there’s another season of that show you really liked last year out on Netflix. Feel like binge watching?”
I waited. I didn’t realize I was also holding my breath.
“Sure. I’m not loving the book I’m reading right now.”
We got everything put away and we took our normal spots. Me, in the recliner, her on the couch. It felt a little bit like walking on eggshells. As if I made any sudden movements she might bolt.
Then the show started and everything seemed to fall into place.
I had my life back.
I had my wife back.
I glanced over at her, but her attention was on the show. Her hair was loose tonight and a sensory memory of me running my fingers through it was intense.
Mine.
I looked back at the screen and tried not to think about it. Tried not to wonder what she would do if I sat on the couch with her. With her body tucked up against me so I could bend down and smell her hair whenever I wanted to.
Shit, I was staring at her. I forced myself to look at the TV, but if she asked me what I thought about what I was watching I would have no clue.
