I realize she’s bracing for this, for me to prioritize Holly over her again. That just because the money matters are resolved, she doesn’t know I won’t keep putting her on the back burner.
I grab the phone and set it between us, putting the phone on speaker. I want there to be full transparency between us, no more secrets. I hit answer.
“Hey Holly, what’s up?”
“Hi, I know it’s the weekend, but I was hoping you could help me. I realized the paint color I picked just isn’t giving the right aesthetic. So I picked another one that I know will be great. Can you come out today so I know it will be dry by tomorrow?”
I see Becca put down her fork and knife, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. And it hits me that this scene has happened before. Becca and I, enjoying time together from our busy schedules, and something pulls me away, so often it’s Holly.
“Holly, no, I am not coming by today. If you want to change the paint color, I left painting supplies at the salon. There are tons of online tutorial videos on painting. Go ahead and watch a few, and I will help you with any fixes when I come back in.
“Uh … sure,” Holly answers uneasily, but then gathers herself. “You’re right, I can do this! I don’t need to ask my big brother to paint a wall, I got this. Sorry to bother you, enjoy your weekend!” She hangs up with determination.
I feel the guilt in me start to creep in. I see her struggling. What if she slips while standing on a ladder? The fixer in me wants to jump in and help.
But then I look up and see my wife, and instantly my desire to fix something shifts to her. What hurts the most from the look on her face? The disbelief. She doesn’t expect me to stay with her.
Becca doesn’t say anything right away, only nods as if she’s filing it away.
Becca grabs our plates and heads to the sink to do thedishes. “You can go see her … you usually do. Besides, I have a lot to do anyway; I’m sure she will need your help.”
Ouch, I’m being kicked out the next morning by my wife like an unwanted booty call.
“If you want me to go, I understand. But first, I’m going to do the dishes.” I gently grab her hips and move her to the side. “Then, I’m going to fix this skylight. I’ll stay out of your way as best I can in this sardine box.”
“Hey!” Becca slaps me lightly on the chest. “I think it’s cozy, romantic even.”
I lean closer to her ear and whisper, “Definitely romantic. Especially the candlelit dinner I had last night.”
She tries not to laugh as I kiss her cheek and keep washing and drying the dishes. She’s speechless for a minute, wanting to figure out how to put space between us, but I stop her in her tracks.
“Go ahead and take a shower. I will clean up here.” I can see the war in her eyes, desperately wanting to shower while wanting to get me out of her space.
“Okay, I’ll go get ready then.” She walks off, grabbing her clothes from the small cabinet and drawer next to the bathroom. When she closes the door, I get to work tidying up.
Thank goodness it’s a small space, because it looks like a disaster. I find a small wet jet mop and start cleaning the floors, then tidy up the couch before finishing up in the kitchen.
Becca walks out and eyes me. “I’d buy that.”
What? Did my wife just offer to purchase me?
“Uh, buy what exactly?” I ask, searching for clarity.
“That calendar. Sexy men cleaning.”
I laugh loudly, unexpectedly. “Baby, I will make one for every day of the year, but only for you.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes, not yet.
The laughter fades naturally, the way good moments always do. And I watch her remember where we are. I can feel the room getting colder as she puts distance between us.
“Thanks for breakfast, Sam. And for … last night.”
“You never have to thank me for being there for you, baby.”
“I know, but still. Since we are in this … complicated status.”
I don’t want to think about our marriage as a downgraded Facebook relationship status.
