Page 33 of Husband of the Year
As I nod, I can’t help but reflect on how Olan has seamlessly shouldered all the household responsibilities that I once struggled with. He almost seems happy to do it and both me and my ADHD couldn’t be more pleased.
“And the gas. Water. Cable and internet.” Olan kisses my forehead. “It’s all on the list.”
“Thank you.”
“With checkboxes. I know you love checking things off.”
“I really do.”
As my index finger traces the contours of his chest, I can sense the rhythmic thumping beneath my touch and I check an imaginary box, right where his heart beats. I’m determined to etch the sensation of his skin beneath my fingertips into my memory and savor every precious moment before he leaves.
“For how long?” Illona asks.
Isabella, Olan, and I meet in our living room on Sunday night, a unified force, to explain to Illona her father’s impending absence. The severity of the situation distracts me from my usual Sunday scaries about the looming week. Typically, I’m simply worried about the bombardment of activity and responsibilities that come with teaching, but now, knowing Olan is leaving and I’ll be left to my own devices, the usual worries are dwarfed by the prospect of being without him for an indeterminate amount of time.
“I’m not sure, princess.” Olan’s arm wraps around her shoulder. She’s sandwiched between Isabella and her father and I’m parked in the chair across from them, with Gonzo blissfully unaware of the situation as he lies belly up on my lap purring away.
“But why aren’t you sure? When you and Marvin went to Mexico, you knew exactly when you were coming back. And when Mommy went skiing in Colorado, she told me when she was coming back.”
“I know, sweetie.” Isabella places her hand on Illona’s knee. Sitting across from them, watching the delicate moment, my throat tightens. Olan insisted I be included in their chat, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m imposing on an intimate family conversation. “But this is different.”
“Why?” Illona leans into her father’s shoulder.
“Your Uncle Liam is sick.” Olan’s voice is quiet, and I search his face for any signs of distress. My gut tells me to move next to him, but I don’t want to disrupt the dialogue.
“What’s wrong with him?”
I know about Olan’s family from little pieces of information he drops here and there. Illona has seen her grandparents once in the two years since we’ve been together. Rebecca and Erik came for a weekend last fall and spent most of it driving up the coast leaf-peeping. I know she’s met Gabe’s children, her cousins, once, before I was in the picture.I’m not sure if she’s ever met Liam or only heard about him from Olan. Isabella once told me, “Olan’s relationship with his family is complicated. Just love him through it.”
“He uses substances that are hurting his body and he needs help to get better. While there are doctors, nurses, and other individuals supporting him, he needs me, too. I’m going to help him.” Olan kisses the top of his daughter’s head.
“Like drugs?” Illona asks.
“Yes, sweetie.” Isabella smooths over Illona’s yellow sweatshirt. It’s one of her favorites. Illona and I put the laundry away together last night and I showed her how to fold it so the hood was tucked underneath. “Some drugs help us,” Isabella continues. “And some can actually hurt us. Doctors tell us what the good drugs are and give them to us when we’re sick. Like when you have a fever, and we give you medicine.”
“And Liam has a fever?”
“No, princess. That’s the problem. He’s taking medicine when he doesn’t need it.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s sick. And he needs help. And he needs me to help him.” Olan glances at me, and a chill runs up my arms, overtaking my chest.
“Okay. Can I still stay here with you?” Now, Illona’s beautiful brown eyes are on me. I assumed she’d want to stay with her mother.
“You can stay wherever you like,” I say.
Feeling left out of what he perceives as attention, Gonzo leaps from my lap to Illona, immediately headbutting her chin.
“If you want to spend more time with me, that’s fine too,” Isabella says. “Whatever you want, sweetie.” She gives me a soft smile and I nod in agreement.
“Of course. Whatever you want. Your mom and I will make it happen.” I smile at her, my body vibrating with worry.
Olan’s leaving. For an undetermined amount of time. My whole world feels unsteady, like tectonic plates shifting and struggling to find their balance.
And then Illona Stone, the sweetest angel, comes over, crawls next to me, instantly enveloping me in a warm hug, grounding me.
My eyes close, keeping the tears in, and I wrap my arms around her and sigh, taking in the smell of her mango and coconut hair cream.
