“I’m not going to call your bluff on this one. You don’t know anything.” I wouldn’t want to hear the truth. Not right now.
We walk in silence, me huffing in irritation to the parking lot, and luckily I don’t fall again. Leo loads the box into my trunk. “I’ll come over after I stop by my house. I have to do…something.”
“Don’t bother. Thank you for these things. I don’t need any more help.”
“Don’t be like that,” Leo counters, snow sticking to his stupid hat and dumb eyelashes. “I’m trying to be your friend, Kid. I wish you knew just how hard I’m trying.”
“Why is it a trying type of thing? Why can’t you just be my friend?”
His eyes squint and his face falls. “You really have to ask that?”
The pain is so apparent, I look away. “Obviously. I asked, didn’t I?”
He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Listen, forget about it. Call me if you need help setting it up or want help looking. I read that cats usually don’t stray far from their home. Especially with this weather. Keep the search area small to start.”
He looked it up—researched how to find a missing cat. “Are you going to see Avery?” I ask, because even now, jealousy pricks my heart.
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Does it matter if I’m going to see Avery? You shouldn’t care. I’m your friend.”
“I care,” I return, folding my arms.
“She got into some trouble again. I promised to help her out.”
My heart sinks. “Oh. I’m sorry.” That’s what it takes for me to shake myself out of the lusty anger haze. “I hope she’s okay.”
“She will be, I think. Working on that spark at the same time, you know?”
I hang my head. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I have therapy tonight. Thanks again,” I say, getting into my car and shutting the door.
Leo opens it behind me. “Drive safe. It’s getting scary out there. I can’t talk about this right now. Okay? Just drive safe.”
“You, too,” I parrot back. He closes the door.
I drive home thinking about vanilla cake.
_______________
Therapy was mindless because I said everything I knew I was supposed to say. She asks us the same question every week. Both Adam and I give the same answer. This week, though, when she asked if we saw ourselves in a happy marriage five years from now, he said he wasn’t sure. I’m losing him bit by bit. The uncertainty of timing eats at me. There’s something about therapy that makes me want to try to be a better person for Adam. This week we’re supposed to work on our communication. It seems like a foolish thing to say, but honestly, I never say the things I want to. For once, I’m going to tell him everything, let it all come out. I didn’t expect the resentment from Adam admitting he only married me because I was pregnant, but it’s there. It knocks on my heart any time I feel guilty for not being a good wife.Hello, Kendall, he never wanted you, you forced him into matrimony and now he’s trapped.Juliet left early this morning to get to Boston before the snow got heavy. I already miss her.
The snow is coming down so hard that Adam is driving about fifteen miles per hour and all we can see on the two-lane main road are brake lights. “How was your day today? Other than the parts I already know about.”
I close my eyes. “What parts do you know about?”
Adam sighs as we come to stop. “Everything you told the doctor.” Maybe I begin now. Tell him everything. “This motherfucking traffic. We’re never going to get home.” Distraction. Interruption. It would be a mistake to bring it up now.
“There’s really not much more than what we spoke about already. I’m worried about Coal and all of this snow.” I almost mentioned Leo three times in those two sentences, and I’m irritated I have to work to keep his name from my lips.
Adam rubs his hands up and down the steering wheel. “How was class today? How’s Callaway?”
Leaning my head on my hand, I reply with a swift, “He’s fine.” Was that reply too short? Will it seem like I’m hiding something? Am I? “The lessons are coming along. Callaway gave me the stuff to set up the cat house for outside. He had it all, so that saved me from running over to the hardware store.” I pause, waiting for more questions, but Adam stays silent. “I’m going to miss Juliet.” Subject change. “I hope she made it before the snow got too heavy.”
“I’ll miss Juliet, too. She really brought out the best in you,” Adam returns. He glances at me quickly, and then focuses on the road and the crawling traffic. “You opened up.”
I clear my throat. “She’s my best friend.”
He nods. “Did you glean any wisdom from her?”
Adam is fishing. He has to be.
