The Wife Between Us(73)

When I finally quelled my tears, I went inside. I stood in the mannered quiet with the alligator still in hand. Then I walked through our living room, not caring that I might be tracking mud on our pristine rug, and placed Duke’s toy on the table in the hallway where Richard always put his keys. I wanted him to see it the moment he came home.

Here’s what I didn’t do next: I didn’t change out of my dirty clothes. I didn’t tidy up the newspapers and fold the laundry and put away the gardening tools. I didn’t prepare the swordfish, snap peas, and tortellini I had planned to make for dinner.

Here’s what I did instead: I made myself a vodka and tonic and sat in the den. I waited as the light dwindled to dusk. Then I poured myself more vodka, this time without the tonic. I hadn’t been drinking much other than an occasional glass or two of wine. I could feel the strong alcohol coursing through my body.

When at last Richard walked in the door, I remained silent.

“Nellie,” he called.

For the first time in our marriage, I didn’t reply “Hi, honey” or hurry to greet him with a kiss.

“Nellie?” This time my name was a question, not a statement.

“I’m in here,” I finally said.

He appeared in the doorway, holding Duke’s muddy alligator with the tail half missing. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

I lifted my tumbler and drained the rest of my vodka.

I saw him take in my clothes—the faded jeans with dirt on the knees and the old, oversize T-shirt. I set down my glass, not caring that I hadn’t used a coaster.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He walked over and put his arms around me.

I felt his solid warmth and my resolve began to melt. I’d been so angry with him all afternoon, but now what I wanted most was to have the man who’d caused my distress to comfort me. The accusations that had been forming in my mind grew blurry; how could Richard have done such a horrible thing? None of it made sense again.

Instead of saying what I’d planned to, I blurted out, “I need a break.”

“A break?” He pulled back. “From what?” His brow furrowed.

I wanted to say, From everything, but instead I replied, “From the Clomid.”

“You’re drunk. You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I guess I am a bit tipsy, but I do mean it. I’m not going to take it anymore.”

“Don’t you think this is something we should discuss as a couple? It’s a joint decision.”

“Was it a joint decision to get rid of Duke?”

With the release of those words, I knew I’d crossed a line in our relationship.

What stunned me was how good it felt. Our marriage, like every marriage, had unspoken rules, and I’d broken one of the most important ones: Don’t challenge Richard.

Now I realize my adherence to that mandate had prevented me from asking why he’d bought a house without showing it to me, and why he never wanted to discuss his childhood, as well as other questions I’d tried to push out of my mind.

Richard hadn’t made that rule alone; I’d been a willing accomplice. How much easier it was to just let my husband—the man who’d always made me feel safe—take charge of the direction of our lives.

I didn’t feel safe anymore.

“What are you talking about?” Richard’s voice was cold and measured.

“Why did you call Mrs. Lee and ask if your shirts were ready? You knew I hadn’t picked them up. Were you trying to get me out of the house?”

“Jesus!” Richard stood up abruptly.

I had to tilt my head to look up at him as he loomed over me in my chair.

“Nellie, you’re being completely irrational.” I could see his hand gripping the alligator, mangling its shape. His features seemed to tighten, his eyes narrowing and his lips folding inward; it was as if my husband was disappearing behind a mask. “What the fuck does the cleaner’s have to do with Duke? Or with us having a baby? Why would I want you out of the house?”

I was losing my way, but I couldn’t back down. “Why would you ask me if I’d gotten your shirts when you already knew I hadn’t?” My voice was shrill.

He threw the alligator to the ground. “What are you suggesting? You’re acting crazy. Mrs. Lee is old and always in a rush. You must’ve misunderstood.”

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he was Richard again. The mask was gone. “You’re depressed. We’ve had a huge loss. We both loved Duke. And I know the fertility treatments are hard on you. You’re right. Let’s take a little break.”

I was still so angry at him; why did it feel as if he were forgiving me?

“Where is Duke?” I whispered. “Please tell me he’s alive. I just need to know he’s safe. I’ll never ask you again.”

“Baby.” Richard knelt down beside me and wrapped me in his arms. “Of course he’s safe. He’s so smart and strong. He’s probably just a few towns over, living with a new family that loves him as much as we did. Can’t you see him chasing a tennis ball in a big backyard?” He wiped away the tears running down my cheeks. “Let’s get you out of these dirty clothes and into bed.”

I watched Richard’s full lips move as he talked; I tried to read his eyes. I had to make a decision, perhaps the most important one I’d ever confronted. If I didn’t let go of my suspicions, it would mean everything I’d believed about my husband and our relationship was false, that every moment of the past two years was a hideous lie. I wouldn’t just be doubting Richard, I’d be dismantling my own instincts, my judgment, my deepest truth.