Under the Table(14)
“Derek, if this is supposed to be a friendly call, you’re going about it the wrong way. And if it’s the beginning of an interrogation, you’re on the fast track to me hanging up.”
“I’m sorry.” He instantly scaled back the heavy handedness. “But I don’t think you know how much I worry about you up there.”
“That’s nice, but I’m a big girl. And I don’t see you showing the same level of concern for my sister.”
“That’s because she’s not my wife. And Ruthless can take care of herself.”
Zoey’s jaw began to clench. “You know what? I have always hated the little pet name you have for my sister, no matter how amusing she may think it is. Now how did you get this number and why exactly are you calling me at this hour?”
“I gave up my job at the club,” Derek said, ignoring her question.
“Gave up or got fired?”
“I quit. I gave up drinking too. Got a real respectable job installing drywall.”
“And just how long are you planning to stay in the glamorous world of spackling?”
She could hear him starting to tense up. “I’m also working on getting my real estate license. So why don’t you stop all of this foolishness and come home?”
“Because we agreed on a year’s separation.”
“I don’t need a year to know you belong with me. You wanted me to change. I’ve done everything you asked.”
Even if Zoey wanted to believe him, she’d still have doubts. She’d put in hours of overtime waitressing for four years as he drifted from job to job, never lasting for more than six months. Except for bouncing at a nightclub in town. Once he passed the six-month mark, Zoey knew it was a job he enjoyed, which made her uneasy. Derek always found time to get to the gym, something she never managed, with all the running around she did. He had the stature to see above a crowd and liked to exude authority. Not only did the job mess up both their schedules, but he would also bring home that air of aggressiveness and reeked of booze and stale cigarette smoke. That made it easy for Zoey to keep her distance. It also taught her just how comfortable a big bed was for sleeping alone.
“I’ve heard all this before, Derek.”
“Where were you tonight?” His voice started to rise. “Are you seeing someone?”
The accusations were more like it, and what she was used to when he didn’t get his way. “I was working. You didn’t mind the late hours when you were sitting on the couch, drinking beer, placing profiles on OkCupid. And random hookups were more your style.”
“Damnit, Zoey! We can’t move forward if you keep bringing up the past!”
And with that, she hung up.
Their marriage hadn’t started out that way. Her high school sweetheart, Derek, would talk about all he wanted them to do, all he wanted to be. When he had gotten down on one knee and asked her to hold out her hand, he had promised her adventures and traveling and discovery, not to mention a lifetime of love and security. She left the tiny diamond ring behind when she took off. She was tired of feeling owned.
They shared dreams and aspirations while she cooked for him in their tiny kitchen, giggling and teasing the whole time. Derek’s transformation to sullen and moody was so gradual, she’d hardly noticed. It wasn’t until she detected the familiar alcohol on his breath early in the afternoon that she was forced to acknowledge the honeymoon was over. How she hated that smell.
They stopped going out when a subscription to Netflix seemed like a good idea for cozy nights and the ease of an order on Grubhub. They’d stuck a lot of forks in toss-out containers over the last couple years, but his favorite recliner only had room for one. Every time Zoey tried to join him out of romantic spontaneity or just to feel some human contact, the protests from the chair and the man were equal. She got too tired to cook for him, and he began to nitpick and criticize when she did. Then he started working at the nightclub and they were little more than ships passing in the night.
Worst of all was his dogged insistence that they should start a family. It came up each and every time she mentioned trying something new or adventurous. Whether it was trying to find a way to go to culinary school or packing up and moving to a new city, the conversation was always the same. It went from discussion to arguing. Then he would want to make up by wrapping his arms around her in bed and whispering in her ear—“Let’s make a baby.”
No matter how charming he was, Zoey wasn’t buying it. Derek didn’t have some deep-rooted longing to be a parent. He wanted to trap her, seal the deal, make it that much harder for her to have any interests she could pursue on her own. He refused to listen when she listed her reasons for wanting to wait. Soon she would be turned off as soon as he said it. Why couldn’t he say “make love”? “Get down”? “Do the nasty”?
She stormed in and told him she was leaving while he was at the club. Then she stole her own car out of the parking lot and drove to New York. They hammered out the trial-separation-for-a-year deal from Ruth’s apartment, with Ruth playing mediator from a second handset. Derek never lasted more than three days before calling to check up on her. Now he knew she had acquired a cell phone.
Zoey went back out to the living room and flopped down on the futon beside her sister. “Ugh.”
“It couldn’t have gone that bad,” Ruth said. “I didn’t hear any screaming.”