“I don’t either,” I say, refuting any possible notion he may have that I regret any part of our lives. I give him a tight squeeze before adding, “Thank you for doing this.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know,” I tell him. “But I want to. I want you to know how much this means to me.”
He nods. He gets it. “You’re welcome.”
“You know, I was thinking,” I start to say, feeling relaxed and more comfortable. We’ve debriefed, as brief as it was. We’ve gotten the hard part over. Maybe we can talk about other things now. Go back to the kind of conversations that filled our relationship, menial things that don’t necessarily matter, but also make the biggest difference. No training wheels required. “Remember how last year I took a tutoring job over the summer? I was thinking maybe I could do that again.”
“Yeah? Is that what you want?” His thumb doesn’t stop moving, and his brow raises in an encouraging gesture.
“Maybe,” I tell him. “It’s better than just being at home all day. And I thought it would be nice to bring in some extra income. And?—”
“But doyouwant to?”
“I do, just to keep busy over the summer, but I also kind of want to spend that extra time with Sophia. We could keep her home instead of sending her off to summer camp. Maybe go back to Washington, visit my mom this time.”
“Yeah,” he says, this time with more conviction. He smiles as if the thought of my summer spent making more memories with Sophia brings him nothing but joy.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely,” he affirms. “I think Sophia would love that.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t working?” Though we could use the extra money for a rainy-day fund or for emergencies, it doesn’t hurt us when I don’t work over the summer. And I know it’s never bothered him when I stayed home the few summers before Sophia started preschool. It’s mainly my own guilt at play. I need to contribute the way I’m supposed to, the way a partner is supposed to. It’s my way of earning my place in our home when my place has never been questioned.
“No,” he assures, shaking his head and giving my hand an extra squeeze. His answer is spoken through a light scoff, almost as if he can’t believe I’m asking him. “Take a break.”
“Maybe I will,” I tell him with a smile.
I think for the longest time I let my depression convince me I’m an inconvenience. And maybe I am to those who don’t understand it or don’t know how to deal with a person who’s like me, but James isn’t that person. I know that now. He’s my husband. He’s not someone I have to convince to love me. He already does. I don’t need to prove to him I’m worthy of a place in my own home because to him, I deserve all of it as I am. I just have to believe this for myself too.
“Here are your waffles.” We unlink our hands, making room for our lunch in the form of a breakfast entrée. It’s a welcome interruption as my stomach rumbles from the sweet and savory scent. “Your Coke floats are on the way.”
I pick up my fork, pressing into the waffles with the dull side of the prongs.
“We have a Fourth of July picnic for work,” he announces, continuing our conversation. “It’s near La Jolla Cove where they have the fireworks.” I don’t notice a harsh tic in his jaw or a deep furrow between his brows. Everything about him feels easygoing, and I realize this is what we’ve been missing. Talking about our lives like a normal married couple does. We’re talking about work, all the little details we omitted in the past because it felt superfluous, and I can’t believe how much I missed this. And I can’t believe howeasyit is. “You think we can go?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I get it if it’s a lot. It’s going to be pretty crowded with the holiday, but I thought Sophia would really enjoy it, so…”
“We can go. I want to go.”
He grins. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Kendall
NOW
From: [email protected]
Hi Bean,
