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But you’ll wake me up for sex just fine.
I pause before replying.
I don’t want to be a shrill, bitchy wife, but I deserve to know when my husband’s life is in danger.
He stares back at me again, waiting intently for my response as I desperately try to find the words for my irritation.
“After what happened last night, I thought you’d at least trust me enough to tell me when something had gone down,” I reply, shoving down the note of agitation in my voice. I want to come across as a reasonable, even-tempered woman even in the face of an argument.
I might have blown that chance for now, but I need to redeem myself before he believes I’ve completely lost my temper and sanity along with my memory.
He scoffs a little, which momentarily makes me want to toss my plate of food at him.
But yet again, I am tasked with the burden of being the reasonable one.
“I mean, am I wrong?” I add.
“Having sex with me doesn’t mean you love me. I know you really want to believe that you do, and I can see that you’re trying, but it’s still too soon,” he replies, sitting on the opposite side of the counter with his own plate.
“Adas, I didn’t come on to you. You came into my room, into my bed, and you’re the one who initiated the sex. You’re making it sound like I was trying to use you to get my rocks off when you quite literally did that exact thing, especially given how you’re treating me now.”
He stops in his tracks, turning slowly to meet my agitated eyes with a confused expression.
“What do you mean? How do you think I’m treating you now?” he asks.
“You’re being dismissive. I feel like I just lost my virginity to you, and you’re treating me like I’m an annoying coworker that won’t stop asking you to go to the dog park with me.”
He scoffs. “That’s ridiculous, and you need to get a hobby that doesn’t include watching eight hours of TV in one sitting. You’ve got too many people living in your head. It’s time to come back to reality.”
I can feel myself starting to make a face at him, something he would immediately recognize as discontent at best and animosity at worst. I take a deep breath, subtly reminding myself that I’m still being well taken care of at the end of the day.
He takes a few bites, expecting a retort from me and glancing at me with confusion when he doesn’t get one. “Does that not make sense to you? You have to understand where I’m coming from.”
Instead of continuing a conversation that would inevitably end up with us fighting in circles, I decide to keep my mouth shut and eat my food. It’s absolutely delicious, which irritates me even more. Fuck him and his incredible cooking.
13
ADAS
River is having another appointment with her doctor today, and she’s been more anxious than ever to progress towards walking again as soon as possible. She’s been out in the garden constantly, practically flinging herself from the damn wheelchair as if she’ll be able to take off in a full sprint or maybe even fly away like she’s in a dream.
Her visceral hatred of her once-favorite band is worrying to me, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. If she’s able to have such an intense change in her personality, what does that mean for her ability to remember anything?
It would make sense for her to at least feel like she recognized it, but for her to behave as if the band itself was an affront to all that is good in the world was jarring. If her reactions to pieces of her old life can give her such unpredictable reactions, I might be in for a world of trouble if she starts throwing curveballs at me.
“Good morning, River, it’s good to hear you’ve been keeping up with your exercises,” the doctor says warmly as he enters River’s bedroom.
I’m sitting right next to her holding her hand, but she seems completely disinterested in any physical touch from me since breakfast a few days ago. I felt weird about trying to have sex with her again so soon after we fought about the implications of the act.
“Good morning! It’s been a challenge, but I feel like I’m making really good progress,” River chimes happily, completely detached from me.
I can’t be mad at her for wanting space, especially if she feels so used as she said she did.
Even still, it would be a disaster for the doctor to notice how disjointed and asymmetrical our marriage is. It certainly doesn’t help my case at all.
The doctor sets down his paperwork and beckons River to wheel towards him for an evaluation.
“Her reflexes are looking better, so that’s a good sign. Didn’t we tell you that hard work would pay off?” he says as he feels for the pulses in her feet.
