“Then can you tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “What did I do wrong?”
“It’s really nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She continues her exit, heading toward the laundry room to replace our laundry basket, and I follow close, my toes nearly hitting her heels.
“That’s not true,” I tell her, the urgency in my voice causing it to quiver. It’s riddled with anxiety and a temper I’m having difficulty controlling. “Everything that happens between us, I concern myself with. There’s nothing in my life that consumes me like me and you?—”
“Then why are you so careless?” She’s lost the queasy control in her voice. She’s become shrill and accusatory.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I have her unintentionally caged between the dryer and the door, and I don’t have it in me to move aside. To let her pass and act as if I’m completely okay with us going about our lives like this, cold andvacant. We’re at an impasse, a moment where we can either say what we want to say or choose not to. Making sure to pick out the words that need to be said instead of the ones that can—should—be held back. Picking our battles, as she’s called it in the past, or to fight every single one like our lives depend on it.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says softly, fear laced in her voice. Like I’ll admonish her for all the thoughts in her head.
“Talk to me,” I beg. I reach for her, and she flinches. I wouldn’t hurt her. She knows that. Iknowshe knows that. But her knee-jerk reaction scorches me like a hot brand.
“Why are you acting like I’d hurt you?”
“I don’t—” She looks to be on the verge of tears, and I reach for her again. But this time, she doesn’t flinch away.
“Baby, please.”
“James,” she cries. I can see the hesitation in her when she runs her hands through her hair and tugs at the roots. But she continues, vacillation and all. “I—I ran into Teeny when I was at your mom’s, and…she asked me how I was doing. If I was okay.”
“Why?”
She inhales a deep breath. A pause before this explodes into something we can’t come back from. “She was just wondering, and when I asked why, sh—she didn’t want to say at first, but when I kept asking, she told me you told her about what happened…with the baby.”
I sigh, frustrated that a simple moment of confidence between my sister and me blew up in my face. I don’t blame Teeny, she was just concerned about Kendall, but I wasn’t prepared to be side-swiped by this. All the complicated parts of my marriage I let trickle out without a second thought is now slathered into a mess. As if I thought it was simply water—a slow drip from a crack in the ceiling—when in reality, it was oil. Greasy, slimy oil. “I’m so sorry.”
“She said she felt horrible about what happened and she wanted me to know that I can come to her if I ever need to talk,” she continues. “Why would you tell her?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I try to explain. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to just talk about you. I just felt so…”
“What?” she demands.
“I just needed someone to talk to.”
“Why?”
“Because, Kendall. I’m trying to figure this out. I’m trying to help you when I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I’m scared to death that I’m going to lose you, and Ineededsomeone to talk to.”
“So, you talk to your sister?” That accusation in her voice returns, and I panic. How dare she accuse me of anything but wanting to help her? Why doesn’t she understand how fucking helpless I feel?
“Yes,” I say firmly. My anger starts to match hers. “Is it that bad that I talk to my family about this?”
“Yes!”
“Why?” I’ve played the patient, stoic husband, and things are dire now. I can’t tiptoe anymore.
“Because.”
“No, Kendall,” I argue. “Tell me. Why is it so bad that I?—”
“Because I don’t want them to know I’m like this!”
“I’m not going around telling everyone about us,” I tell her, my voice growing louder and more strained. “And even if they knew, they care about you just as much as I care about you. They would never judge you or think less of you because they know what happened.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, my voice cracking. “What is the point of you being this upset and angry that I confide in my own sister? Why is that so goddamn bad?”
