all people.
He flagged Penny to refill my cup. “Do you want something instead?” she asked when she saw I hadn't eaten. “It's no trouble, really. Let me bring you something else. Some eggs, maybe? A toasted bagel?”
“No, thank you. I'm fine. Just not very hungry.”
Joe ordered apple pie. “So I heard the message from Rayanne,” he said. “What did you tell her about the apartment?”
“Nothing. I haven't called back yet.”
“You know, I don't understand why you still talk to her. All that bragging about how well Andy's doing. And their big apartment in Manhattan. And private school for the boys. Doesn't that bother you? Aren't you just a little sick and tired of hearing how wonderful her life is?”
“I know she's annoying, but Rayanne's been a good friend since college. I can't just forget that.” As I spoke, I looked at Joe, as if watching him on a screen. My celluloid husband, the projection of a man I'd believed I would love forever. It was then I saw the truth: Danny had glued us together, even when we argued about him. And now we were peeling apart.
Joe jabbed his pie. “So, what's happening at school these days?”
I should have lied again. It would have been simple to say everything was fine. But without pause, I reported on Liz. I didn't get far, though.
“You did what?” Joe said when I told him I hadn't sent Liz to Debra even when Peter ordered me to. “What's wrong with you, Beth? You're gonna end up losing your job. And for what? She's not even your student, for Christ's sake.” Joe glanced at the check. “And this all started in gym. So I'll bet it has something to do with that gym teacher, Ann Whatever-Her-Name-Is. Didn't I tell you to stayout of that?” The coffee soured my stomach. How dare Joe tell me what to do at work.
He didn't ease up on the ride home either. “Explain something to me,” he said as we turned onto Main Street. “Why are you doing this?”
I nestled by the window, as far from Joe as I could get. “Doing what?”
“Come on. You know damn well what I mean. You've had such a good career. So why are you intentionally ruining it?”
“I'm not intentionally doing anything. Certainly not ruining my career.” I studied the streetlights and longed for Callie or Dad, who didn't demand explanations and justifications whenever I spoke.
“That's it? You don't think you're screwing up? End of story?”
I didn't answer, just looked out the window and thought about the tennis team. Noah hadn't called in a while. Who was his doubles partner now? The dream I'd had three weeks after the accident came back to me.
Hey, Noah! Where's Dan ?
Don't know. Can't help you.
Joe stopped for me to get out before he pulled into the garage, a routine we'd established when we moved into the house. I went in through the kitchen door and saw the blink of the answering machine. Joe walked in as Dad's voice boomed, “Hi, honey. I was worried about you this afternoon. You sounded so down. And even though that's to be expected, well … anyhow, I'm just calling to tell you I'm here if you want to talk. But I guess you and Joe are out for the evening. So I hope you're okay. Love to you both. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
I picked up the phone. “Jesus, Beth! You're calling him back?” Joe asked. “Once a day isn't enough?”
I slammed the phone down before it rang on my father's end. “Why do I have to explain everything I do? Wouldn't you want to talk to your father if he were alive?”
“My father? Nobody talked to my father about anything. And what difference does that make? You're a grown woman. You shouldn't have to talk to your father every day. There's something wrong with that— how often you see him, how much you talk to him.”
I rinsed the N OT A M ORNING P ERSON mug I'd left on the counter. “You know what, Joe? What's wrong has nothing to do with my father. What's wrong is being married to a man who makes me explain everything I do.”
I threw the sponge
He flagged Penny to refill my cup. “Do you want something instead?” she asked when she saw I hadn't eaten. “It's no trouble, really. Let me bring you something else. Some eggs, maybe? A toasted bagel?”
“No, thank you. I'm fine. Just not very hungry.”
Joe ordered apple pie. “So I heard the message from Rayanne,” he said. “What did you tell her about the apartment?”
“Nothing. I haven't called back yet.”
“You know, I don't understand why you still talk to her. All that bragging about how well Andy's doing. And their big apartment in Manhattan. And private school for the boys. Doesn't that bother you? Aren't you just a little sick and tired of hearing how wonderful her life is?”
“I know she's annoying, but Rayanne's been a good friend since college. I can't just forget that.” As I spoke, I looked at Joe, as if watching him on a screen. My celluloid husband, the projection of a man I'd believed I would love forever. It was then I saw the truth: Danny had glued us together, even when we argued about him. And now we were peeling apart.
Joe jabbed his pie. “So, what's happening at school these days?”
I should have lied again. It would have been simple to say everything was fine. But without pause, I reported on Liz. I didn't get far, though.
“You did what?” Joe said when I told him I hadn't sent Liz to Debra even when Peter ordered me to. “What's wrong with you, Beth? You're gonna end up losing your job. And for what? She's not even your student, for Christ's sake.” Joe glanced at the check. “And this all started in gym. So I'll bet it has something to do with that gym teacher, Ann Whatever-Her-Name-Is. Didn't I tell you to stayout of that?” The coffee soured my stomach. How dare Joe tell me what to do at work.
He didn't ease up on the ride home either. “Explain something to me,” he said as we turned onto Main Street. “Why are you doing this?”
I nestled by the window, as far from Joe as I could get. “Doing what?”
“Come on. You know damn well what I mean. You've had such a good career. So why are you intentionally ruining it?”
“I'm not intentionally doing anything. Certainly not ruining my career.” I studied the streetlights and longed for Callie or Dad, who didn't demand explanations and justifications whenever I spoke.
“That's it? You don't think you're screwing up? End of story?”
I didn't answer, just looked out the window and thought about the tennis team. Noah hadn't called in a while. Who was his doubles partner now? The dream I'd had three weeks after the accident came back to me.
Hey, Noah! Where's Dan ?
Don't know. Can't help you.
Joe stopped for me to get out before he pulled into the garage, a routine we'd established when we moved into the house. I went in through the kitchen door and saw the blink of the answering machine. Joe walked in as Dad's voice boomed, “Hi, honey. I was worried about you this afternoon. You sounded so down. And even though that's to be expected, well … anyhow, I'm just calling to tell you I'm here if you want to talk. But I guess you and Joe are out for the evening. So I hope you're okay. Love to you both. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
I picked up the phone. “Jesus, Beth! You're calling him back?” Joe asked. “Once a day isn't enough?”
I slammed the phone down before it rang on my father's end. “Why do I have to explain everything I do? Wouldn't you want to talk to your father if he were alive?”
“My father? Nobody talked to my father about anything. And what difference does that make? You're a grown woman. You shouldn't have to talk to your father every day. There's something wrong with that— how often you see him, how much you talk to him.”
I rinsed the N OT A M ORNING P ERSON mug I'd left on the counter. “You know what, Joe? What's wrong has nothing to do with my father. What's wrong is being married to a man who makes me explain everything I do.”
I threw the sponge
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