For some reason, he thought of the house, the Needle. Maybe it was because Wren had called it a torture dungeon. Or was it a sex dungeon? And he’d just walked out of anactualhouse of terror and found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d built it up to be in his mind. So what was he really so afraid of? He could do the work and get the house ready for their family, all on a shoestring budget. He wasn’t all that handy, and definitely not experienced, but that’s what YouTube was for. It’s what his dad would have done. It’s what his daddiddo. He renovated their entire house as a wiry little twentysomething,with nothing but a few library books and some hand-me-down tools. If he could do it, Arthur could do it. What’s the worst that could happen? He’d been searching for meaning, for purpose, for feeling like he was somebody for a change. Maybe this was what he had been looking for all along.
Wren could be upset; that could happen. But he’d offered her the chance to show him her vision for their life and family, and so far she’d done nothing. Not a speck of research or even sending a single listing his way to look at. Not that he could blame her. She was busy growing a human. He couldn’t exactly relate, but it was probably a lot to deal with. Linda Kellerman was right. Wren didn’t have the bandwidth to take this on, and it was his job, his responsibility, to make this decision for them. He wasn’t afraid of that responsibility anymore.
He checked that the coast was clear, pulled out his phone, and called Linda. She answered quickly.
“Arthur! Are you finally ready to make a deal?”
“Better late than never,” he said. “Right?”
17
ArthurWren:Stay in Bed All Day
Wren woke the next dayand gently opened her eyes to find Arthur staring at her.
“Hi,” she said groggily.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. He was lying there in his usual spot with a gentle hand on her belly. He looked like he’d been up for a while.
“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s frightening.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just pumped to be awake and lying next to you. I take one page out of your book and it’s like I have a new lease on life. Is this how you feel all the time?”
She slowly propped herself up.Do I look like that’s how I feel?she thought. His cheeriness was really grating, especially when she felt like such crap. They’d really been pushing it lately and she was utterly exhausted. Apparently even just watching Arthur do things, and singing while sitting on a stool, was pushing it now. Turns out you can only pretend you’re not eight-and-change months pregnant for so long before reality becomes undeniable, like Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff…You know the second he looks down, he’s going to fall. And she was currently falling. Her feet hurt, her muscleswere sore, her back was screaming. And Arthur was all sunshine and rainbows.
“No.”
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Terrible.” She’d been waking up a lot during the night, which was strange. She used to sleep like a log. Her legs always seemed to be restless and it was hard to find a position that was comfortable for more than a few minutes at a time, squishy C-shaped pillow be damned. “You?”
“A little weird. Had some pretty bizarre dreams if I’m being honest. The freaky mime on stilts was there, but, like, he was my mom? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You’re so chatty,” she said. It would be really, really great if she could have a coffee right about now. But truth be told, she was proud of Arthur for facing one of his greatest fears. And since he did so well, that would make it her turn to do the same.
She groaned at the thought of doing anything. Anything at all. But Arthur was grinning at her like an idiot. And that’s when she put it together.
“You’re holding the jar, aren’t you?” she asked.
He smiled even bigger and whipped it out from under the covers, the jar that is, the one with theA, and held it out for her.
“You get to be me today,” he said. “How fun is that?”
“All right,” she said, mentally preparing herself. “Might as well get this over with.” She just knew the challenge was going to be Prepare and File My Own Taxes or Learn How to Tie a Bow Tie.
She reached into the jar, which was getting considerably less full these days, and felt around. There were fewer slips than before, but still several left. Still so much to do. They hadn’tmade that much progress after all, and they were nearly out of time.
Without any drama or showmanship, she pulled one out and read it to herself.
Oh no.
She didn’t feel like doing anything, but she also didn’t feel like doing nothing, and that’s what this was. She’d rather work on their taxes. She’d rather spend the whole day touring cookie-cutter suburban McMansions. She’d rather spend the day studying wealth-building strategies and comparing the long-term performance of different stock portfolios. Literally anything would be better than this.
“Come on, let’s see it,” Arthur said, craning his neck. She sighed and flipped it around so he could read.
“Yes!” he shouted. “This is going to be amazing.”
No, this was going to be a nightmare.
