It’s written on his face. All the words he wants to say, but won’t. “How much longer are you going to sleep in here?”
Sex.
That’s what this is about. It’s been months, and he knows I’ve been cleared to have sex. Physically, of course. Mentally, I’m a series of self-destructing land mines. “I didn’t know you had a problem with me sleeping in here? You’re working all night these days.” I dodge the subject with the ease of a freightliner.
“I wouldn’t work all night if you were in our bed.” He sighs, and runs both of his hands through his sandy blond hair.
Adam is the stereotypical Cape Cod boy. He grew up here and always knew he would go to Boston College. He also knew he would move back to Cape Cod after he graduated. His accent is thick and his attitude is fierce. A testament to the shit time we’ve gone through, everything about him is mild, dulled by our lives. There’s no fire left. I’ve extinguished it. My heart starts pounding. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I’m not ready for that. I can’t.”
“Who the hell said anything about fucking? I want you in our bed. Our bed. We are married, remember. You’ve been hiding from life in here for months. Don’t think I don’t realize it. I’m not an idiot. I won’t touch you if that’s the concern, but come sleep inourbed. With me. I’ll stay on my side and you can stay on yours…if you want, until you’re ready. The doctor said small steps. This is a small step. The new job on Monday is a victory. Can’t you see that?” He’s breathing heavy, trying to keep his temper under wraps. A glimmer of a spark lights his eyes. The old Adam.
I grasp onto the flutter of familiarity. Letting the possibility seep in. Adam licks his lips and says, “I’m done with work for the night. Let’s open a bottle of wine, order too much Italian takeout, watch a movie, and then go tosleeptogether.”
“I want that,” I choke out, even though I’m not sure I want it. “That sounds nice.”
He sighs and the relief rolls off him in waves. I stand from the bed and resist the urge to look at Noel. “I’m sorry,” I say for the millionth time since that life-altering night. Grabbing my pillow, I slide past him to the other side of the hallway, to his room. I try not to let the weirdness of being in here show as I place the pillow on my old side of the unmade bed. Adam comes over, nervously, and pulls the covers up trying to tidy it.
“I would have made it,” he says, sniffling. “I, uh, was in a rush and I’ve been in here by myself for so long. Didn’t see the need in making it.”
I shake my head as I inhale the scent of his sheets. It’s different. Not my bed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll wash everything in the morning. Okay?” I did it once tonight, I can do it again. Meeting his brown eyes, I smile at him. The huge smile that breaks across his face is all-encompassing. Guilt rises again. More this time. It’s almost unbearable. I smooth the covers on my way into the living room. Adam is exuberant in his energy and mood as he pulls up the menu online and begins rattling off our old favorites.
The exchange in the bedroom resembles something a man would say to a woman the first time she sees his place. It’s awkwardly painful. It drives the horrible facts home.
We aren’t the same people anymore.
I’m not sure we’ll ever be the same people.
“That sounds fine,” I reply.
I’m fine. Everything is fine.
