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Etienne blinks. “I suppose I wasn’t noticing much, not after all the pharmaceuticals interacted with the vodka.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about that. People need what they need to travel,” I say.
“Yeah. Takeoffs and landings make my ass sweat.” I smile, thinking how nice it is that he’s sharing what makes him scared.
“And, likewise, people need what they need to sleep,” I say, fixing my earbud into my ear closest to him.
“But what do you listen to?”
He’s really curious? Hmm. I see no hint of sarcasm or mocking.
“If you must know, I listen to people talking.”
“What sort of talking? Is it recordings of parliament? That would send me off to dreamland in thirty seconds.”
I groan inwardly, dreading this conversation. But strangely, I feel safe telling him the truth. “Positive affirmations.”
My husband blinks, the only sign that he’s still breathing through his shock.
“Etienne, are you unwell?”
“I would never have thought…” he starts, then changes course when I arc an eyebrow at him. “…I mean, you’re so confident, accomplished, respected, pretty…”
“Go on.”
He laughs. “Really, why would you need to listen to positive affirmations?”
I sit up in bed, giving up on tuning him out. I’m not going to cry. I do not need to unload my baggage onto this man I barely know.
“Look, we all have something we’re dealing with. I cope with my pain my way, and you…”
“I,” Etienne says, suddenly bristling, “Cope with mine by drinking.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” I amend. “I wasn’t going to assume anything.”
With that, I snuggle down into the mattress, adjusting this way and that before finally getting comfortable and sticking my earbud in my ear.
“It’s true, though,” I hear him say through the sound-muffling device in my ear. “I drink to numb everything.”
I turn toward him and study his face.
“I’m sorry,” is all I say.
We share a brief silence in which I think he wants to say more but doesn’t. I want to know, desperately, what pain he needs to numb. I crave to learn everything about this man.
So, I offer a look at my deepest wound. “I cope with missing my mother by listening to positive people saying nice things because that’s what I needed as a child. Also, listening tricks my brain into thinking that I’m not falling asleep alone.”
I can’t bear the look on Etienne’s face in response to that, so I turn over and face the wall. This time, I let my headphones rest on the night table.
“My father could never stand the sight of me,” my husband says. My heart aches.
“And upon our engagement, the king said he would cut me off if I didn’t go through with the wedding.”
My automatic response is to pacify. To say,Don’t be silly. Of course, your father loves you.
I swallow the urge to say this because, well, look at all the evidence, shall we? The king trapped us here, removed all ability to communicate with the outside world, and didn’t give either of us a reason. Oh, and also threatened his son to get married.
“That must have been terrible to hear,” I reply.
