“I grew up in the Lower Ninth Ward.” I set Caleb’s coffee down in front of him with a clang, looking at him when I say my next words. “I’m not easily intimidated.”
With his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line, he sips and nods his grudging approval. “Community center, huh?” He bites into a beignet, stops mid-chew and squints. I’ve seen just that look when he and his agent are assessing if something will be good for his career. That’s what he’s doing now: weighing how me doing this will reflect on him.
I don’t know where that comes from. I’m being petty.
“You’re right. It’ll be good for my image in the community,” he finally says to Sylvia, confirming my suspicion. “For people to see us active and involved. Goodwill for the team. Iris can represent us.”
Permission granted.
Irritation snaps my teeth together. He makes me feel invisible all the time or like he’s running my life by proxy, making decisions on my behalf. Does he even realize this is the kind of thing I might have been organizing if my career were on track? That I could do Sylvia’s job with my eyes closed? In my sleep?
“Then it’s settled.” Sylvia stands and gathers her purse and jacket. “I’ll call you with details, Iris. Thank you both.”
“Sure.” Caleb turns toward the stairs and throws a comment over his shoulder. “I need to leave soon for tonight’s game. See you later, Sylvia.”
“I’m really excited about this opportunity,” I tell her at the door. “I’ve been wanting to do something meaningful for a while now.”
“Then this could be a great fit. Oh, and there is a daycare onsite if you think your daughter would be fine there for an hour or so,” Sylvia says, making her way down the short set of steps to her car parked in the circular drive. “I’ll be in touch.”
Once she’s gone and I’m back in the kitchen, I allow myself the simple pleasure of anticipation. I’m going to do something outside of this house, at least for an hour or so. Something that doesn’t involve mammary glands or diapers or mashed vegetables.
But not today.
The dishes in the sink, mostly bottles and baby spoons and bowls, remind me that at least for today, this house is the scope of my existence.
I start setting the kitchen to some kind of order, cleaning the food processor and mopping up the clumps of Sarai’s breakfast that didn’t make it to her mouth.
Caleb will be heading to the arena soon. I can’t decide if I like things better when he’s on the road or when he’s home. It’s just as lonely in this huge house when he’s here as it is when he’s gone. Surely this isn’t what he wants in a marriage? We’re just co-existing. There’s no real connection, no friendship. We at least used to have that. We started as friends, but even that’s hard to remember now.
“What’s this?”
I look up from washing Sarai’s bottles to see Caleb in the arched kitchen entrance holding a few sheets of paper.
“Where’d you get those?” I know exactly where he got them. I’m just delaying the questions those papers lead to.
“In my office,” he says abruptly. “On the printer. What’s this about, Iris?”
Hisoffice. Everything in this house belongs to him. His eyes roam over my breasts and hips and legs, reminding me that I belong to him, too. At least, he likes to think so. We sleep in the same bed, but I’ve managed to avoid having sex again. He hasn’t mentioned getting engaged again either. We’re both tiptoeing around issues that will lead us to crossroads. I’m not ready to go out on my own, not without a job, a home, resources. Something to ensure Sarai and I will be straight.
I know if I leave now, Caleb will provide for Sarai. Legally he has to, but I don’t want to get into all of that right now, not when Caleb is under so much pressure. So we’re in limbo, but I’m researching the next steps to secure our future, mine and my daughter’s. And that’s what he’s holding in his hand.
“It’s just some information about an online certification program for sports industry essentials.” I push a chunk of hair behind my ear before meeting Caleb’s icy blue eyes. “I’m thinking about enrolling.”
“No.” His harshly spoken word freezes me against the sink. “Not happening.”
“Sarai is getting older,” I say carefully, not wanting to fight before Caleb’s game. “I have to think about what I’ll do with the rest of my life.”
“What the hell does that mean?” In a few strides he’s beside me, towering over me. Glowering at me. “The rest of your life? You’ll marry me and raise my children, Iris. Nothing to think about.”
“Children?” Shock hushes my voice. “I’m not having more kids.”
The quiet following my words swells with the fury in his eyes.
“What did you say?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.
“I mean, not until I get my future on track. Caleb, you know I never planned to get pregnant at this stage of my life. I love Sarai, but I still have the same hopes and dreams I had before she came. I want to resume mylife.”
His eyes soften, but it’s a false soft. A curtain he draws over his true feelings, but I see them clearly. I’m not sure why I haven’t recognized this trick before, but I do now.
