“And whose fault is that, Trent? For one, you broke up with melongbefore I dated David. And secondly, it was a long time ago. It’s not like I had an affair with him or we were together even remotely close to now. It wasoverten years ago at this point.”
“It doesn’t matter, Leslie. I’m going to have to see this guy and know that he’s seen you naked, he knows what you look like under him, and what you sound like. Yeah, it’s my fucking fault, I’m well aware of that fact, but that doesn’t change the fact that I hate it.” He’s clearly frustrated, and I don't know what to do or say but I’m suddenly wishing he didn’t come home early.
He takes my hand in his and pulls it into his lap. “Leslie, Iloveyou. So incredibly much. You’re the most perfect woman, and I love our life together. But I have regrets and the fact that David exists as anything more than a human on this planet and ex-classmate, is one of them. Especially because he follows you and comments on your social media. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but to me that means he’s still into you. And I’m not okay with that.”
I yank my hand from his. “I’m not perfect, Trent. Stop calling me that, you know I don’t like it.”
His chin drops to his chest with a heavy sigh. “That’s what you took away from what I said? Really? I’m trying to share my feelings with you and you’re getting stuck on a word?” Hurt hangs from his words, and it drives a shard of glass straight through my heart.
But before I can say anything he stands. I reach for him, hoping to convince him to stay but I know it’s pointless. “I’m sorry. You know that word irks me.”
“You’ve always been perfect, Leslie. You’re the only one who doesn’t see it. But maybe it’s time to accept it. I’m going to get a workout in before the kids come home.” Without another word he disappears into the basement to utilize his home gym. I’m sure he’ll be down there for at least two hours, even if he’s not working out the whole time.
Right now, he just wants to be away from me, and I can’t say that I blame him because I’m being an atrocious wife. I didn’t even take his feelings into consideration, I just jumped on the word. And that’s not fair or right. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Trent has feelings when he spends so much time wrangling mine.
I end up sitting on the couch staring at the wall and picking my lip for who knows how long. It’s not until the basement door shuts and pulls me from my stupor that I jump and taste iron on my tongue. Great, my lip must be bleeding.
But Trent doesn’t stop in the living room to see me, he doesn’t say that he’s done. Instead, he makes a beeline for the stairs and heads straight up. Within two minutes I hear the shower turn on and know he’s going to be at least another thirty minutes while he washes away his workout and probably a bit of my attitude.
This is going to make for an extra-long weekend. Maybe adding some alcohol will help us loosen up a bit and let go of the baggage we’re clearly carrying.
Is it too early to crack open the wine?
Chapter 20
It’saboutaninety-minutedrive to Brighton. Not terribly far, but not close either. Enough that the quiet of the car is starting to wear on me and it’s only been twenty minutes.
I try to occupy myself by looking out the window at the passing scenery, fiddling with the hem of my shirt, anything to take my mind off the suffocating silence, but I can’t.
“So, are you just not going to talk to me this weekend? It’s going to make things kind of awkward.” The words blurt out and not kindly. In fact, they’re pretty accusatory when I haven’t spoken either.
With a raised eyebrow, Trent looks over at me as he rests his right wrist on the steering wheel and perches his chin on his other hand. “You can talk too, ya know. Or am I supposed to carry the conversation as well?”
“Why are we arguing? I don’t even understand what’s going on here.”
“Who said we’re arguing?” Is he playing dumb or is he just blind to the obvious?
“If we’re not arguing, what are we doing?”
He’s silent for a minute, staring straight ahead, and I wonder if I’m going to even be graced with a response when he opens his mouth before closing it again. “We’re just both tense about this weekend.”
“We didn’t have to come. I didn’t want to go.” The argument seems moot at this point since we’re almost halfway there.
“It’ll be good for you, Les. Don’t you see that? You live in this world where you worry too much about what other people think of you. Seeing these schmucks from high school and hownotwell they’re doing is going to be refreshing for you.”
“All I’m going to see is how I don’t measure up. What do I have to be proud of?” I wince and my eyes flutter shut the moment they’re out of my mouth. “Trent…I—”
“What do you have to beproudof? How about your three beautiful children for starters. I promise you there will be people at the reunion who would be happy to haveonechild, let alone three.” The words come out angrily, and he has every right to be mad.
I link my fingers in my lap and look down at them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Do I? Leslie, sometimes it feels like you hate your life, our life. That me and the kids are just a burden holding you back from some other greatness.” His words sting against my skin and burn through my body.
How could he possibly think that? Being a stay-at-home mother is exhausting to the truest extent of the word, but I love it. Even if there are moments that I don’t, moments where I’d give anything to be anywhere else, I love being home with my kids and watching them grow. And I love being home when Trent gets back from work. I appreciate how hard he works so I can stay home.
Do I not show that enough? Do I not express my gratitude and love of my life?
“That’s not fair. I love you and the kids so much. I love our life.”
