The Wives(19)
Toward the end of the night, as people were starting to leave to head back to the dorms, Seth made his way over.
“Those are the sexiest shoes I’ve ever seen.”
That was his pickup line. Then he said, “I’d ask them on a date, but I think they’ll just reject me.”
To which Tuesday had replied, “You should ask me on a date instead, then.”
They were married two months after they graduated. Seth claimed that they never fought once during the two and a half years they dated. He said it with pride, though I felt my eyebrows lift at the ridiculousness. Fighting was the sandpaper that smoothed out the first years of a relationship. Sure, there was still plenty of lifelong grit after that, but the fighting stripped everything down, let the other person know what was important to you. They made the move to Seattle when a friend’s father offered Seth a job, but Tuesday hadn’t acclimated well to the constant shade and rainy mist of Seattle. First, she became miserable, then outright hostile as she accused him of dragging her away from her family and friends to mold away in wet, dreary Seattle. Then, a year into their marriage, he caught her with birth control pills, and she confessed that she didn’t want to have children. Seth was distraught. He spent the next year trying to convince her otherwise, but Tuesday was a career woman and my dear Seth was a family man.
She was accepted to a law school in Oregon, her dream. Their compromise was a relationship commute for the two years it would take her to finish. Then they would reevaluate and Seth would look for a new job somewhere closer to her. But the business Seth ran was doing well, and his investment in its success grew. When the owner had a stroke, he agreed to sell the company to Seth, whom he had trusted to run it for two years. Seth’s move to Oregon was thwarted. He would never leave Tuesday, he loved her too deeply, and so they worked around their respective states, driving, driving, driving. Sometimes Tuesday would drive to Seattle, but mostly it was Seth who made the sacrifices. I resented Tuesday for that, the first, selfish wife. Seth opened an office in Portland partially to be closer to Tuesday, and partially because it was a good business opportunity. When we first met, I asked him why he didn’t divorce her and move on. He’d looked at me almost pityingly, and asked if I’d been left before. I had, of course—what woman hasn’t experienced being left? A parent, a lover, a friend. Perhaps he was trying to distract me from the question, and it had worked. Tears sprang up, resentful memories came, and I believed Seth my savior. He wouldn’t leave me, no matter what. That’s where jealousy came in, when someone or something threatened my happiness. I’d understood Seth in that moment, admired him, even. He didn’t leave, but the downside of that was he didn’t leave anyone. He merely adapted. Rather than divorce, he took a new wife—one who could give him children. I was the second wife. Tuesday, in a compromise to remain without children, agreed to legally divorce Seth while I married him. I was to be the mother of his children. Until...Hannah.
“Seth...?” I say it again, louder this time. “Seth...”
The moon is bright outside the bedroom window, and its glow illuminates my husband’s face as he slowly opens his eyes. I’ve interrupted his sleep, but he doesn’t look angry. Earlier, Seth stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my neck slowly, as we looked out at the city below. I must have forgiven him sometime between his bowl of ramen and our lovemaking, because the only thing I feel for him at the moment is intense love.
“Yes?” His voice is heavy with sleep and I reach out to touch his cheek.
“Are you angry with me for what happened to our baby?”
He rolls onto his back and I can no longer see every detail of his face, just the slant of his nose and one blue-green eye.
“It’s midnight,” he says, like I don’t already know.
“I know that,” I say softly. For good measure, I add, “I can’t sleep.”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I was angry,” he admits. “Not at you...at life...the universe...God.”
“Is that why you found Monday?” It takes all of my courage to form those words into a sentence. I feel as if I’ve cut open my own chest and splayed out my heart.
“Monday hasn’t replaced you,” he says after some time. “I want you to believe that my commitment to you is real.” He reaches out a hand and caresses my face, the warmth of his palm reassuring. “Things didn’t quite pan out the way we wanted, but we’re still here and what we have is real.”
He hasn’t really answered my question. I lick my lips, thinking of a way to rephrase. My footing in our marriage is unsteady, my new purpose unclear.
“We could have adopted,” I say. Seth turns his face away.
“You know that’s not what I want.” His voice is clipped. End of story. I’d brought up the topic of adoption before, and he’d immediately dismissed it.
“What if the same thing happened to Monday...that happened to me?”
His head snaps right so he’s looking at me again, but this time there’s no kindness in his eyes. I’m startled by it.
“Why would you say that? That’s a terrible thing to imagine.” He pushes himself to a sitting position, so I do, leaning back on my elbows until we’re both staring at the bay windows and the stars beyond.
“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly, but Seth is flustered.