But her offer to “chat” with me isn’t the piece standing out in my mind. It’s the fact that she said “when you guys get here.”
I can’t stop myself quickly enough before I say, “What are you guys talking about?”
Nic looks at me like I’m stupid. “Kat, I can’t believe you forgot. We are staying with my parents this Christmas and through New Year’s. We leave tomorrow.”
I have questioned my sanity many times in my life, but I have never been surer of something than I am right now. He has not mentioned this trip to me one time, not once. Because I am scheduled to teach classes all day tomorrow, and there is no way I can get out of it this late. I was originally only going to teach in the morning, but Susan, my coworker, asked me to take her afternoon classes, so she could fly home to visit her mom.
Since we hadn’t gone anywhere for Christmas over the last few years, I instantly said yes, thankful for the excuse to get out of the house and do what I love.
Teaching these classes is the one thing I look forward to. Being stuck in a house with his mother for more than an hour sounds like actual hell on earth.
I don’t back down from Nic’s stare as I say, “In fact, you did not mention this to me at all. This is the first time I’m hearing about it. I can’t go. I have classes to teach, and there’s no one available to cover for me.”
Nic rolls his eyes, and I hear his mom mumble something.
Nic looks more irritated than normal. “Are you seriously saying you can’t go visit my parents for the holidays because you have to teach some stupid art classes?”
Waves of anger, disappointment, and hurt flood me all at once. Nic and I rarely see eye to eye. But I thought that he at least knew what my art meant to me. That he knows the smallest piece of who I really am. But instead, he talks about it like it’s garbage, like what I care about doesn’t matter when he’s involved.
Standing a bit taller, I say, “Yes, those ‘stupid art classes’ are exactly why I won’t be going with you.”
Nic looks at his phone for a second and says to his parents, “I’ll call you in the morning.” He hangs up before they can say anything back.
Then, he turns his full attention to me. “How much would you make from the classes tomorrow?”
He will never get it. Maybe he is incapable of even understanding the point, understanding me.
Running my hands through my hair, I say, “It’s not about the money, Nic! It’s the one thing I do for myself. The one thing that brings pure joy to me.”
He sighs. “What will it take to get you on the jet tomorrow? My family is expecting us both.”
I groan. “Your family isn’t expecting me. Your family is expecting this version of meyouhave created and hand-crafted. The version that smiles and nods, smiles and nods. I am sick offuckingsmiling and nodding, Nic!” I aggressively kick my heels off. “The perfect wife who speaks when spoken to and always looks her best. Tonight, almost every woman in that room has the exact same look in their eyes. One I never want mine to have. I definitely don’t want that to be all I have to look forward to. I don’t want to feel like I’m trapped in my own skin, trapped in my own life.”
For just a moment, I think my long-winded speech will snap him back into reality, into the version of Nic that I met years ago. But I don’t know if that version of him ever really existed outside of my mind.
The Nic in front of me doesn’t love me anymore. I’m not sure if he really ever has in that way. Which is why his reaction doesn’t shock me as much as it should.
“I understand this life can be a lot at times, Kat, but it’s just the lifestyle. Not everyone is cut out for it. If it’s not something you want anymore, I get it. Just let me know when I get back, and if you want a divorce, I’ll start the process. But I’m tired from today, and I just want to go to bed. So, good night,” Nic says with such causality.
He turns and stalks off to bed, leaving me alone with the most clarity I have had in years.
2
Noelle
December 13
“FINALLY,” I MUMBLE TOmyself as I shut my laptop and push it away from me on my dining room table.
I amofficiallyon vacation. I logged out of my work email and will be completely unreachable through the holidays.
I own a private law firm. Constantly, I am working long days and focusing on my clients. But this is my time now, my vacation. Glancing up at my clock, I remember to check the cookies that should be just about done.
Muffin, my little fluffball, stretches in the chair next to me, yawning dramatically.
“Oh, big yaaawn.” I reach out and pet her.
Walking across the cool hardwood floor to the oven, I pull down the door. The chocolate chip cookies are perfect. Maybe I should keep them all to myself. I slip on the oven mitt, pull the pan out, and set it on top of the oven, resisting the urge to grab one and devour it immediately.
