The Hopefuls(108)



The next night, I sat on the couch and waited. My heart jumped when I heard the lock, and I stood at the top of the stairs, watching Matt come in. He looked serious and tired. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I might pass out and considered for a minute if this would make him feel more sympathetic toward me.

“Hey,” he said, looking up at me.

“Hi,” I said. I didn’t know how to greet him and I could tell he felt the same. Even when we were mad at each other, we hugged and kissed hello—maybe out of habit, but also because we belonged to each other. Now I wasn’t sure that was still true.

He sat on one end of the couch and I sat on the other, my hands in my lap. My heart was still beating so hard that I could hear it and wondered if he could too. I waited for him to start talking, and finally he took a deep breath and said, “I’ve spent these past two weeks thinking about this, trying to figure out what we should do. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t angry. But I want us to get past this.”

“You do?” He wasn’t done talking, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question. I was sure he heard the relief in my voice.

He sounded solemn as he said, “I do. We’ve put too much into this to just throw it away. We made a commitment to each other. I think we can make this better. If you’re willing to.” It was such a Matt thing to say—to bring up commitment and work—that I almost smiled. He looked so serious sitting there, my thoughtful husband. It was an expression I recognized from so many times we’d talked about our future or world issues. I’d missed this version of Matt; it felt like forever since I’d seen him.

“I want that too,” I said. Our whole conversation felt so formal, like we were negotiating a contract instead of talking about our relationship. Matt looked like he was going to say something else, but I spoke first. “Matt, I want to try to explain. I’ve been going over everything again and again. And I’m sorry for what happened, for what I did. I will always be sorry about that. But I’ve also been thinking about us. About how bad things got.”

“I know,” Matt said.

“I don’t know what happened. I’ve tried to go back and figure out where it was that things started to feel off. You seemed so angry—at me, at the situation. At everything.”

“I was,” he said. He didn’t meet my eyes at first, like he was embarrassed.

“It felt like you didn’t even like me anymore,” I said, my voice wobbling.

“Beth.” He looked up at me like he felt sorry for me, and I felt tears come to my eyes.

I held up my hand, wanting to get out what I had to say. “You weren’t talking to me. I felt so shut out. I knew you were upset, but you wouldn’t tell me about it. I’m not saying this as an excuse, I’m not. But I need you to know what it felt like. Like it didn’t even matter that I was there, like you wouldn’t have cared if I left.”

“That’s not true,” Matt said, but his voice was soft. “It’s not. I’m sorry if that’s how it felt.”

“And then you left me. You left me here. Didn’t even call once. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back. You left me.” My voice sounded angry for the first time in our conversation, and Matt looked surprised.

He closed his eyes. “I know. I can’t explain it. I just needed to think. I just needed space to think.”

“This wasn’t—it wasn’t about Jimmy. I don’t know if that makes it worse or not. I think I was just confused and sad and it just happened. But I’ve never done anything like that before. I promise. You have to believe me about that.”

He raised his head and looked right at me. “I believe you.”

“Okay, good,” I said.

“I know things were bad, Beth. I don’t know why, exactly. It was happening and I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know why I was acting that way. I don’t want to be like this. I really don’t.” Matt had tears in his eyes, but he blinked them back. It was such a simple thing to say, but maybe that’s why I believed him. I got up and sat closer to him on the couch, reaching out and taking his hand.

The conversation had gone better than I’d hoped, but I tried not to get ahead of myself. I knew Matt was still angry—I could feel that he was hesitant as I held his hand and knew that wouldn’t go away for a while. And I was still angry too, if I was being honest. But he wasn’t going to leave, he wasn’t going to use this thing that I’d done as an excuse to end things. And I wasn’t going to ask him where he’d been for almost two weeks, wasn’t going to demand that information. I’m sure Colleen would’ve said that I let Matt make a decision and then reacted to it—and maybe I did, but I didn’t really care. It was what I wanted too, and it didn’t matter to me how we got there.

“I want things to get better,” I said. “And I know it will take a while, but I think—” My voice broke here and I waited a second to continue. “I think we can do that.”

Matt squeezed my hand and then took his away and put it in his lap in a way that felt slightly unfriendly. But then his voice was soft and agreeable as he said, “Me too.”

That night we were polite to each other as we got ready for bed, standing next to each other at the sink while we brushed our teeth, taking turns spitting and rinsing like we were new roommates who didn’t know each other very well. We’d been apart for two weeks, but it felt like much longer. Our good-night kiss was dry and chaste, and as I pulled the covers over me I wondered how long this was going to last. Maybe we’d have to live like a prudish Amish couple for a while; maybe that was our price to pay. I guess it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it certainly wasn’t great.

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