I'm Fine and Neither Are You(56)

“That I’m going to get fired,” I supplied.

He nodded. “Until I officially land this job, your being out of work would be pretty disastrous for us. I wish I’d realized that sooner. You never said anything, so . . .” He shrugged. “Anyway, it was stupid of me not to think about how much we rely on you.”

I was glad to hear him admit it, but I suddenly felt aggravated. Because while he was luxuriating in the simple worry of how to stay faithful, I had been spinning my wheels to keep us solvent. To have and care for a family was a privilege. Recognizing that lightened the load, as Jenny had often said. But it hardly eliminated it.

It occurred to me, however, that my being direct was hardly the only reason why I might join the ranks of the unemployed. Half the department could be eliminated during budget cuts. We could get a new dean who wanted to bring in his own team. If I let my mind spin out, there were myriad possibilities, all ending in catastrophe.

Then what? Sanjay and I were not prepared for the worst, let alone for anything to change.

And things changed. They changed all the time.

“It is stressful. It’s incredibly stressful—and scary, too.” I waved my hands around. “All this could go away if I don’t do my absolute best at all times. You know what the funniest thing is?” My voice was starting to raise, but I couldn’t help it. “Now that I think about it, Yolanda’s question was totally absurd.”

Sanjay looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”

“Who cares if I’m happy at work?” I said. “If happiness was the goal, I wouldn’t have taken the job in the first place. It was always about the money! Maybe if I had realized that sooner, then I actually would have been happier.”

Stevie had walked in the kitchen. She put her hand on my arm and looked up at me pleadingly. “Mommy, don’t fight with Daddy.”

My heart hurt, hearing her say those words. Wasn’t this marriage project about protecting my children and giving them a happy home?

Sure, but what about your happiness, Penny?

Jenny had a way of showing up at the darnedest times.

Instead of talking back to her in my mind, I zoned in on Stevie’s face, which was folded into a frown. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy and I aren’t really fighting,” I said. “Just having a discussion. Why don’t you go put a show on?”

She narrowed her eyes, but the promise of television was too tempting. “Okay,” she said and ran off to the living room.

“You know, it’s all right for them to hear us fight once in a while,” said Sanjay after Stevie was gone.

“I don’t want them thinking we’re going to end up divorced.”

“Who said anything about divorce? This is about this morning, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Yes, you should have. That’s not why I said it.” Not consciously, at least—though now that I was thinking about it, I had to admit it was perhaps a possibility. Still. “My parents fought all the time before my mom left. And lately it seems like you and I may be heading in that direction.”

“That’s part of the whole honesty thing, Penny,” he said with exasperation. “You didn’t want to keep pretending that everything was okay, but now that we’re saying it’s not, you’re backtracking and acting like that’s what’s going to destroy us. Marriage is hard work. I’m sorry I wasn’t trying harder before. I know so much of this is on me. But I’m here now. I’m trying.”

I stared at him, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t wrong. But why was marriage so much work? It didn’t used to be. And if it did require such effort, shouldn’t the fruit of that labor be a stronger, more satisfying union?

Jenny was right. I wasn’t happy at work, and my marriage wasn’t making me a whole lot happier, either. Stevie and Miles were a source of happiness—always in theory, and at least much of the time in practice—but children alone could not fill every void.

I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter. Happiness was nothing but a fleeting state—a modern construct used to justify personal fulfillment over the greater good.

But deep down, I knew this wasn’t true. To me, at least, the word happy was shorthand for a life with meaning. And as of late, I was coming up awfully short on that front. Worse, I had no vision for how that might change.

There were so many things I could have said to Sanjay. But I took one look at him—still in his dress shirt, only the slightest remnants of post-interview joy on his face—and swallowed my pain.

Our marriage may have been a mess, but I still loved my husband. There was no need to drag him down further than I had already pulled him.





TWENTY-TWO

My father called Friday evening as I was getting home from work. I had left a few messages for him since my conversation with Nick about his health, but more than a week had passed with no response and I had given up on hearing back. “Everything okay?” I asked.

“Can’t a man call his own daughter?” he said.

“Well, yes, obviously,” I said, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fumbled for the keys in my purse. I had left work early—and by early, I mean when everyone else was leaving—and Sanjay was still picking up the kids from camp. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. How have you been?”