“You’re not ready to have a child.”
“But that’s part of the deal.”
“It was. When I was choosing a wife. And not you. You are not ready to have a child. You were obviously very unhappy about it, and the fallout of the emotions over you finding out that you weren’t pregnant were very intense.”
It wasn’t that simple, but I decide to allow him that. “Yes,” I say.
“We can wait. One of the deeply unfair things about life and biology—and I should not have to tell you about biology—is that men can have babies for a much longer period of time than women can. You’re young. You can afford to wait. I’m not young, but I can certainly wait.”
“But—”
“And now you argue with me. When I offer you what you want.” He sounds baffled.
“I… I don’t know what to do with you. Because sometimes you make all these commands, and tell me how things are going to be, and even when it’s you giving me what you think I want, you’re not asking me.”
He’s silent, and looks chastised. Which is about as shocking as anything could be. “Would you like to go on the pill?”
It will be a reprieve for some of my worries. It will give me time to adjust to my life. And will give us more time as a couple. A couple? Is that what we are? Obviously. Except…it isn’t like that really. We aren’t bonded by romance. By love. He does things that are romantic. He is my lover. And yet couples bring to mind something domestic; we aren’t that. But we are two people trying to figure out how to live with one another, I suppose. Which really isn’t something I thought would happen with him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “If I’m being honest with you, I imagined that you would be my adversary. That I would hate you. That you would take your husbandly rights, and leave me. I didn’t imagine that you would talk to me. Or buy me books.” I didn’t imagine he would be so complicated. Controlling and giving, rigid, but caring. It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t engaged my emotions. But he has. That’s the difficult piece. If he had only ever remained a figure, something I was fighting against, then all of this would be much easier. I could resist him, and not all of these things in myself.
“I’m sorry that I fall short,” he says.
“I would like to go on the pill,” I say. I press my hands against my forehead. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”
He nods slowly. “I have been thinking. I have to go on a diplomatic trip. To Europe. I’m wondering if you would like to come with me.”
“You said that I was never going to leave the palace.”
He nods again. “I did say that. But you’re unhappy.”
That he’s concerned about my lack of happiness is astonishing to me. I would not have thought that it would matter to him at all. “I have no investment in your misery,” he says. “But you…you have heard my story. My reason for not allowing flights into the country other than my own.”
“You’re afraid,” I say.
“With good reason. I don’t want for anything to happen to you.”
It’s such a strange admission, because there is no current danger, but he’s projected his anxiety onto me. Knowing that he cares in some capacity about me personally. But of course he does. Because I know him well enough to know he isn’t controlling for the sake of it. He’s not a cruel man. Nothing that he’s done would ever lead me to believe he was.
“I know you might find this difficult to believe, but I lived in the world for all of these years without you.”
“But you weren’t tied to me.” His voice is rough. “I don’t have the best outcomes with people who join themselves to me.”
Yet again, I want to ask about his other wives. But I find that something is stopping me. That there are some things I don’t really want to know. Even though part of me is curious.
“But you’re letting me out of my cage,” I say. It feels like something. Maybe like progress.
“I am bringing your cage with me,” he says.
I don’t know if he’s being serious, if he’s teasing me, or if he’s reminding me of exactly who he is. That no matter he might make concessions, I belong to him.
He’s right. I surrendered to this. For him. Now all I can do is be grateful that he’s doing this at all.
I’ve never been on a plane. It’s…terrifying, actually. Even though I know this is luxury travel, we are hurtling through the air at an alarming rate of speed. I am aware the speed is a feature and not a bug. But even so, I find it unnerving. The flight to France isn’t a long one but I’m restless all the same.
“I assumed you’d traveled,” he says.
“You make it very difficult.”
