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He eats another piece of fish and then asserts, "It doesn't take a genius to know everything is better with money. Think about the last few weeks since ya married me. Can ya honestly say ya don't like the perks? That things aren't easier without the struggle?"
I can't tell him he's wrong, and I kind of hate it. It makes me feel like a snob.
"Stop looking so guilty. It's okay to enjoy things and not love the struggle. Ya can admit it."
"I never said I was happy with struggling."
"No? You look like ya felt guilty."
"I'm not," I claim, but he's right. Part of me does feel guilty.
He takes another sip of beer and then asks, "So if money were no object, what hobby would ya take up? Besides being a foodie, that is."
I think about it and then shake my head. "I don't know."
"There's nothing that you've wanted to do, sunshine?"
I think some more, but it only makes me feel bad. I should have something I want to do with my life, but I never had the luxury of dreaming. I confess, "All I had time to do was work and help my da. It's not easy making ends meet."
He grunts. "Not with your irresponsible, addict da."
"Don't!" I warn.
"Don't what?"
"Don't talk about my da that way!"
"Why? I've spoken nothing but the truth," he claims.
I can't argue his point, but I don't want him saying bad things about my da. I put my chopsticks down on the plate and turn toward him, glaring. In a stern voice, I threaten, "I said not to talk about him like that."
Something dark passes in Tynan's eyes. He finally relents and says, "Fine. Ya win. I'm not looking to have ya pissed at me all night. But there's got to be something ya want to do."
"There's not. Let's change the subject," I insist. I don't know why, but every time I'm reminded of what I've had to do to help my da not get killed over his dumb decisions, it fills me with shame. Tynan knows exactly who my da is, but it hurts and brings me embarrassment, even if I love Da.
We eat in silence, and more courses get delivered. I keep thinking about Tynan's question. Yet nothing comes to mind about what I would do if given the chance.
I suppose I should figure it out though. Just like this food, my married life is a whole new world, and I'm totally naive about it.
I take a sip of wine and ask, "Why did ya want to marry me?"
Tynan freezes in the middle of chewing his food. A moment passes until he continues chewing, swallows, then washes it down with his beer.
"Well?" I push.
He answers, "Because I could."
Anger boils in my belly. "Because ya could?"
He meets my eye. "Aye."
"Ya married me just because ya could. Out of all the women in Ireland, the United States of America, ya married me because ya could?"
"Aye."
"I'm not buying that answer. Ya have so much money that ya could have married a real princess. So why did ya marry me?"
"No need to get angry," he says.
