You Deserve Each Other(54)

He knows I’m fishing for him to say something wrong, or that maybe I’m hoping he’ll pass my impossible tests and say something right. Fire your shot and find out, Nicholas. “There’s a bag of salt in the shed.”

I follow him to the door. It feels like he’s always leaving right when I want him to stay. When I need him here and he leaves, I lose something every time, over and over. He takes it from me when he goes. Always going. He’s never going to belong to me. He’s never going to want to stay with me. I’m never going to be enough. Even when we’re not together and I’m away doing something else, it bothers me when that rigid sense of duty to his parents snaps its fingers and off he goes running. It’s easier if I decide I don’t want him around, because then at least he can’t disappoint me.

“Nicholas,” I say when he steps off the porch. Each blade of grass is an iceberg in miniature, crunching under his new work boots. I’m going to be the most honest I’ve ever been with either of us, out loud. Right now.

“I love you eighteen percent.”

It’s not a great number, but it’s been worse. Those glasses and the messy hair are unfairly handsome on him and he’s been more open with me. And more brutal. He killed a baby tree out of spite.

He stops in his tracks. Turns. “What did you just say?”

“That’s the percentage.” I clear my throat. “Eighteen.”

He’s so still, I think a strong wind might knock him over. “There’s no such thing as loving someone eighteen percent.”

“Yes, there is. I’ve done the math.”

“You can’t measure love.” His voice sharpens on the last word before twisting. There’s mockery running all through it now. “But if we’re going to play the numbers game, then I guess I would have to say that I tolerate you eighteen percent, Naomi.”

“So you don’t love me, then.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He didn’t not say it. I cross my arms and wait for him to say something else. “Well?”

But he doesn’t reply. His expression is so stormy that my pulse skips, and he leaves without another word. I go inside, a little wobbly after our conversation. I’m wobbly all the time now, but it’s a step up from my fugue of before, half seeing and half listening to my surroundings. I pick up my phone, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. But it’s not a rejection for one of my applications. It’s a text from my mom, which is rare.

I notice we haven’t received our wedding invitation yet. Have you forgotten our address?



I compose a reply: I haven’t mailed them out. We’re not settled on a photo to include.

Gnawing on my cheek, I backspace all of it and type: They’re ready to go. We’ll send them out soon.

I backspace again. Then I delete the text without responding.





It’s Saturday, which has a new meaning now that I’m still getting used to.

In our old life, if I wasn’t scheduled to work we never spent Saturdays at home. I’d go browse flea markets and thrift shops while Nicholas hung out with his friends: Derek, Seth, and Kara—the ex he’s “just friends” with and who loves to tell me I look tired. I don’t care that she’s married and blissfully devoted to her husband. I’m never, ever going to like her.

Seth’s indifference toward me evolved into jealousy when Nicholas and I got engaged, as if I’m a usurper stealing Nicholas away from him. One-on-one, he’s all right. Get him into a large group setting, and he tries to be a comedian. When this happens, all of his jokes are about Nicholas. He takes little jabs at him constantly, smiling while he does it, which disguises his put-downs as playful ragging. Nicholas’s appearance takes a lot of hits. Nice jacket. You stopping by the country club later? Every time he makes fun of an item of Nicholas’s clothing, it vanishes from his wardrobe circulation. He’s stopped wearing the Cartier watch his parents got him as a graduation present and leaves his Ray-Bans in the car. If he uses a big word, Seth laughs and asks him if he thinks he’s smart. You think you’re at a spelling bee or something?

Since I’m not allowed to rip Seth’s throat out and have been instructed to keep my mouth shut whenever he “jokes around” (Nicholas is in denial that the remarks bother him), I’ve stopped going to social events if I know Seth is going to be there. I’ve asked numerous times why he puts up with this, and reading between the lines of his bullshit responses I got the true gist: Seth was the first guy who wanted to be his friend in college, and now he feels like he owes him eternal loyalty. Since Nicholas wants to be the confrontational type but definitely isn’t, he’s let all the comments slide with an “Oh, c’mon” and an embarrassed laugh.

Offending people who treat him badly is not in his nature, so I’m proud of Nicholas for growing a backbone and ignoring Seth’s recent texts: Come over and help me move, asshole. BYOB. Seth demanding that Nicholas help him move is pretty ballsy, considering he was nowhere to be seen when the shoe was on the other foot and Nicholas had to hire professional movers. People always go to him when they need something because they know he can’t say no. I’m stunned that he hasn’t given in to his guilt yet and skipped off to Seth’s with a case of beer and a large pizza.