and steal a little peace. This had been an unexpected day for him too, but with all the harping and multi-generational estrogen pumping, he hadn’t really taken any time to deal with it.
From safe within his warm-water cocoon, he was spared the sight of Jennifer storming over to pick up the clock on the nightstand, its big hand pointing to the top of the dial, the little hand on the seven. She set it back down, cursing, and the delicate roses shook again even harder. She bounced around the bedroom, yanking out suit jackets and socks as though these few actions would somehow change the fact that they were now, without a doubt, going to be obscenely late.
Tom also knew they were late. And he knew it was his fault. First forgetting they had plans at all and sending away the after-school sitter, forcing Jennifer to call, apologize, and ask her back. Then the admittedly rather immature handling of the whole thing with Abby, as well as his absolutely immature refusal to get ready until Jennifer was nearly in tears asking him to — not that she hadn’t been in tears the whole damn time she was home. He also knew he was going to be paying for this tardiness for the rest of the evening.
Still, after all the useless, stupid bickering since she had walked in the front door, Tom smiled at the thought of her wandering around the bedroom aimlessly checking the seams of her dress and the curl in her hair while she waited for him. The smile widened when he remembered her exasperated look as she pleaded for him to “hurry the hell up.” She was not a woman worth fighting with about these kinds of things, because what she lacked in his brand of reasoning, she made up for in lung capacity. So, as usual, he decided to opt out and just luxuriate for a minute under the warm, steady pressure of the water. It felt somehow like a victory. He didn’t stay long, though, because it also felt like he was being a real prick.
He emerged from the bathroom and dressed in the sweater she’d laid out for him, wearing the cologne she always bought for him. She was fiddling in her jewellery box trying to act like she hadn’t been pacing the entire time. Walking up behind her to grab his suit jacket, he caught her eye in the mirror and came to stand beside her. She was still so very beautiful. And even though he was older, with the grey in his hair less the appetizer than the main course, he thought he was holding his own.
They made a striking couple, if not at that moment a happy-looking one. Currently they resembled some modernist revision of American Gothic; no smiles, stern eyes. He thought that was pretty clever but bit back the thought before it popped out of his mouth. It was not the time for jokes, he remembered; not nearly time for them to be friends again. As they passed Abby’s room, Jennifer opened the door a sliver just to say goodnight but received only a snuffled “G’night DAD” in return for her trouble.
At the car, Tom got into the driver’s seat, though they were taking her car, and by the end of the night, if history was any indication, it would be obvious that he would be in no condition to drive home. Even though dinner was at her friends’ house, a place he’d never been. It was what she expected, and it was the least he could do. He circled around to open her door as she grasped her elegant appetizer, now more of an apology than an offering. The guests would be far too hungry to care about it by the time they arrived. He looked at the assortment, newly arranged on a silver tray, and even through the excessive layers of cling wrap, it was a pretty display.
Tom, now somewhat ashamed of his earlier behaviour, became more so when they pulled onto the highway to find traffic backed up forever. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her yank out her cell phone and construct her apologies, punching them out on the keyboard pad. His fingers mimicked the action, tapping steadily on the steering wheel.
Seconds later the phone rang and Jennifer picked it up, her voice bright and caustic. “I know. I know. Ha ha. Sooo sorry. Had a crazy day with Abby, wait until I tell you, unbelievable. Yes. I know. I told him we were going to be late again, how could we not be when he never steps into the shower until I’m almost apoplectic with rage about the fact that we are most certainly going to be late? Ha ha. They’re all the same, I know. Okay, we are on our way. Oh yes, yes sure go ahead and start, we totally understand. Bye.”
Tom saw the disappointment spread across her face, then the resignation. He knew that she had tried to make this a nice night for them, a chance for them to get out together. She tried so hard at everything, too damn hard. He felt bad for her, and sorry for himself as well. He was hungry and his eyes searched in the rearview mirror for the tray in the back seat, knowing it would be mutiny to suggest another taste, even though the meal was apparently about to begin without them. He could see the condensation beading on its surface, the delicate asparagus wilting, smothered by layers of protective plastic wrap.
Jennifer hung up and said nothing. Tom, angry at being the butt of her little hen party jokes, filled the silence. “You bring it on yourself, you know. You’ve raised the getting ready stakes to the point where anything less than an amber alert meltdown on your end makes dressing a pale, unexciting task stripped of all sexy danger and risk.”
He didn’t know why he’d said it. Ostensibly he could say he had wanted to cut the tension, but as soon as it came out of his mouth, he know he’d just dug his hole a little deeper.
She didn’t even look at him. She couldn’t. It was just little joke, she knew, exactly the kind of idiot line he threw out when he was feeling guilty or defensive, but she still couldn’t believe he’d said it. After all the crap he had put her through that night, jokes were just cruel and insensitive. And he wouldn’t stop. She wanted to hit him.
She hated him sometimes. At first that had surprised her, more than that it had terrified her, to realize how much she could despise him. It was a feeling far beyond offence, or distaste, a real, intense, and passionate hate. It made her sad beyond measure to think about it, even though she knew it was a common feeling between spouses. Her friends even laughed about it. “Two sides of the same coin are love and hate,” they would say. Or something like that. Something vaguely literary that made them sound clever and always made her feel stupid and inadequate. “We can’t imagine why you’d think you two would be above it.”
But her friends hadn’t started their marriages by breaking up another one. They didn’t get their engagement rings because they were asking for two. Their unions weren’t based on the fact that another woman had bowed out of the race. And that made a difference. You knew from the beginning that people were capable of doing things they swore they never would. Or that the line between doing what you wanted and making do was paper-thin. Seeing for yourself how the strongest bonds could snap, it made you careful, very careful.
Tonight she also despised her friends, people who had always been there to feed on her misery and the scandals, and who were always willing to share their best gossip about anyone’s problems as long as they were out of earshot, but who refused to hold dinner for an hour so you could enjoy it with them.
“Screw it,” Jennifer said quietly. “Screw them, and screw you. Just take me home.”
“Jen, we are already on the highway, it won’t take that long.”
“I said, take me home.”
“Listen. I’m sorry, okay. I know I’ve been a bit of an ass tonight.”
“Just take me home. Now. Please.” With that Jennifer closed her eyes and rested her head against the glass. Tom turned on the radio and looked for the next exit, understanding that her mind was made up.
“Okay.”
When they pulled up in front of the house, Jennifer told him to wait in the car so he could take the sitter home before she disappeared inside. By the time he’d dropped the girl
