Chapter 9 Sienna
Chapter 9
Sienna
Sienna’s preening at her reflection in the mirror of Miel as Adam thumbs messages into his phone. “I thought you were going to take a break this trip,” she says.
He glances up, long enough to appraise her outfit. “You know I don’t like when you wear tops that are so ...” A hand lands on his chest.
He means high necked. Covering her modest cleavage. It’s not half a second until he’s back on his phone. “You know I’m brokering this deal with the Cowboys.”
She nods, acquiescing. She’s good at that. They step out the door and make their way through the old house, the floors creaking with each step. “Something’s up with Lucy and Henry. I still don’t understand why they didn’t meet us at the airport. The drive is one of the best parts of the trip.”
He drops his phone in his pocket. “What does it matter? We’re all here.”
“She’s been weird. I don’t know. There’s this thing between us.”
“ Thing. Can you elaborate?”
“I’ve been telling you this for months.”
This is the moment when she has to check herself. Lately she’s had a hard time connecting with Adam about things that matter. His erratic hours. The endless traveling. The missed chunks of the kids’ lives, their life. And now this business with Henry and Lucy.
She’s not sure when it started, but there’s been a noticeable shift in their relationship with Lucy. Unanswered phone calls. Excuses for not getting together. They usually see each other during the year for a long weekend, but they haven’t since last summer, and it’s the most time they’ve spent apart since college. Lucy, her ride or die, felt miles away even when they FaceTimed while the guys watched Sunday football. Lucy blamed it on her practice, patients spilling over into the weekend, and for a time Sienna understood. Lucy is dealing with real people with concrete problems to fix. She knows how it goes. She was once a high-powered attorney working seven days a week, but then Adam’s business took off, and the kids arrived, and they moved to Westchester, and she quit the practice. Admittedly, she misses working. She misses the fast pace, the law, the stimulating conversation. She wonders about going back, if it’s possible to strike a balance, to feel empowered and multidimensional again.
But she’s distracting herself from the real issue. Adam’s never around. If he were, he’d remember the times she’s brought up her concerns about Lucy’s distance, wondering if she’s done something to upset her. His absence and lack of interest hurt. She hesitates to quote Henry, but he could be right: she might be Sirius, but the galaxy spins around Adam.
Taking the first round of stairs toward the kitchen, she shifts gears. Adam has no interest in continuing the conversation about their friends, which is fine, because what she really wants is to talk to Lucy about the thing that’s been keeping her awake at night. Literally. Wide awake.
At first, Sienna felt stupid for succumbing to a childhood phobia, but when she looked it up online, she found other adults have the same fear. The first time the anxiety hit, she thought she was having a heart attack. Her heart raced, and she broke out into a sweat, her body filled with dread. The severity has only worsened in the last year.
Voices drift up the stairs from the kitchen below, interrupting her train of thought, and Adam draws her in close, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Why don’t we skip this part and head back to the room?”
There’s a twinkle in his blue eyes, and she lightly touches the dark scruff on his chin.
Her husband is adorable, but as in most marriages, cuteness doesn’t get you laid. If he really wanted to get her in the mood, he’d try a different approach. And she understood—oh, how she understood—how his work was a priority and afforded them a certain lifestyle. But lately she’s been feeling adrift. Lonely. Even though they appear “perfect,” thanks to Adam and his overt displays of affection. The doting I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-my-wife, isn’t-she-the-hottest-woman-you’ve-ever-seen shtick makes a lot of miserable women in miserable marriages green with envy. She knows she should be grateful to be part of The Adam Show . She knows she’s “lucky” to have a man who worships her, who still wants to have sex after two babies stretched her vagina apart. But here’s the truth: at times, she feels like an object, and when it’s your husband doing the objectifying, it’s even worse.
Then there’s the business of her newly developed phobia. She’s determined to find the time to talk to Lucy. Just the two of them. Lucy will help her understand what’s happening, help her make sense of it all. What she needs is her best friend.
Right on cue, she and Adam step down the stairs, and everyone turns. She holds her head high and takes it in. The admiration. It’s there. It’s always there. She smiles until her face hurts.