26. Alana
Hudson was hunchedover his laptop when she let herself into the apartment, humming as he typed furiously.
He glanced up as soon as she shut the door. “You’re home,” he said, and smiled, and Alana’s heart was gone.
This was all she really wanted, and she hated the fact that she was living on borrowed time with this kind of domestic bliss. The rug was going to be pulled out from under her and even though she would brace for it, it wouldn’t matter.
“Hi,” she said, giving into her worst instincts to pad over to him, and plop herself down on his lap. “How was your day?”
“Interesting,” Hudson said, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her toward him. “How was yours? How were the scans?”
“The scans were fine,” Alana said. “Everything looks good. There was a little bit of traffic on the way home, but I was listening to a podcast so I was fine.”
How to bring up the residency thing? She hoped his mom hadn’t texted him about it or anything, that would have made things worse.
And as much as she wanted to be upset about him not telling her…she looked at his face. It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that. Was she reading things into those looks that he definitely was not actually projecting? Sure.
“Do you need any help with packing up art stuff?” she asked. “I think some manual labor would do me some good. My brain is fried now.”
“Not yet,” Hudson said, shutting his laptop. “The prints are being delivered tomorrow. But if you want some manual labor...”
“Is this going to be a sex thing?” She hoped it was. The two of them teetered from overly physically affectionate to polite strangers, and if she wasn’t half of the reason, she would have hated them both.
“No, your period’s supposed to be starting soon,” Hudson said, looking horrified. “You’re not up to anything like that.”
“Would be more fun if I was.”
“I was going to say that I got some craft supplies for you to distract yourself with,” Hudson said.
“You know that I don’t have a single creative bone in my body.”
“I know that you do, actually, have many creative bones in your body. And anyway, I got you some lanyard.”
“Like the shit we made in summer camp?”
Hudson nodded.
“Wait, did you get it for me, or did you get it for you and you’re sharing?”
“Well, the whole marriage thing means that what’s mine is yours and vice versa. Which is only really helpful for you if you want crafting supplies.”
“I mean, not really? But who knows.” She should get up, go take off the day and figure out what she was doing for dinner, and, because Hudson was right about her period looming, prep for that whole situation.
(It was the second to last one. God, she never thought she would get to this stage.)
But Hudson’s lap was comfortable, and she could pretend here. The second she got up, the doubts would follow her, and quite frankly, she had spent enough time with her own doubts that she wanted a fucking break.
“Why was your day interesting?” she asked, reaching up to run her hands through his hair.
“I don’t think I ever told you about this, but last August, I had applied to a residency.”
Well, there was no reason for her to confront him about it, then, which was good, because she really hadn’t wanted to.
“No, I don’t think you did. What kind of residency?”
“It’s partially sponsored by a non-profit that’s trying to expand the art scene in the Catskills and Hudson Valley region. A six-week fully paid residency near Woodstock, and the art that you’re working on while you’re there is going to be part of an exhibition put on by the museum.”
“Fully paid?”
“Rent money plus non-insurance medication money.”
“Holy shit, Hudson. That would be incredible.”
“So I interviewed with them a week and a half ago, and then I got the acceptance letter a few days ago.”
“Babe! That’s incredible!” It was. She was going to ignore the pang of hurt where he hadn’t just not told her about getting the residency, but about the interview, too. She did some quick math. “Wait, was that why you were acting weird then?”
“Probably.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I dunno. Stupid shit.”
“Does JP know?” Alana asked. If he hadn’t told JP, she’d feel better, because then that really meant he didn’t tell anyone besides his family.
“He knew I applied in August, but I haven’t updated him yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“So. Uh.” Alana paused. She was going to be an adult about this, even though if it was up to her, she would pretend it didn’t happen. But she didn’t want to make things weird later. “I saw your mom today at the hospital, and she mentioned it to me. I pretended I knew what she was talking about. In case she says anything to you.”
Hudson winced. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“About what?”
“Not telling you? That you felt like you had to lie to my mom?” He tightened his hold on her a little. “I told them because I know I’m not going to see any of them in person. I wanted to tell you in person. It just…took me a little bit of time.”
“It’s okay,” Alana said, even though, to be honest, she wasn’t sure if it was. She’d have to think about it later. “When does it start?”
“Three days.” Hudson did not look thrilled.
“Okay, then we better get you packed up quickly,” Alana said. “What’s the issue?”
“You’re starting your period soon,” Hudson said.
“So?”
“You shouldn’t have to do that by yourself.”
“Huds. I’ve done years of my period by myself. I promise. I’ll be okay. And anyway, if it starts tonight, then the worst of it will be over by the time you leave.”
“What about your surgery?”
“What about it?”
“It’s happening in six weeks,” Hudson pointed out.
“You know you don’t have to be here for the surgery.”
Hudson looked at her like she had suddenly started speaking fluent Elvish. “Of course I do, Alana. And not just because Dr. Flua would think it was weird as hell if I wasn’t there. I want to be here because I want to be here. You shouldn’t have to go through that shit alone.”
“At the risk of sounding a little like a bitch, you know I have other friends, right?”
Hudson laughed. “At the risk of also sounding a little like a bitch, you know I’m your husband, right?”
Oh, if only he was in the ways that mattered.
“If I wasn’t an issue, would you go?”
Hudson sighed. “Maybe?”
Alana eyed the couch. “Should we move this discussion to the couch or the kitchen?”
“Sure.”
Alana clambered off Hudson, and reached a hand out for his. “Walk with me to my bedroom while I change?”
Hudson perched on the edge of the bed as Alana stripped out of the outfit she wore to work and the hospital and changed into something a little more comfortable.
“Why wouldn’t you go if I wasn’t an issue?” Alana asked, wiggling out of the pencil skirt she had worn that day. “What part stresses you out?”
“The imposter syndrome of it all.”
“What did you have to do to apply?”
“Write a personal statement, send in a portfolio.”
“And did you lie on any of it?”
“Well, I didn’t mention that we were married.”
“But we weren’t married when you applied. Other than that, was there anything?”
“No?”
“Then they obviously wanted you to come based on your work.” Alana dropped down at the edge of her bed, next to Hudson. “You know, at the risk of inflating your already large head, you are very talented.”
Hudson sighed. “Thanks, Lana.”
“Not that my opinion makes a difference–”
“Of course it does.”
“I think you should go. It’s a great opportunity. An artist’s residency near Woodstock? Maybe the bears will wrestle you now.”
“It’s six weeks. That’s a long time.”
“Well, you said there aren’t any financial issues. Is this a medical thing? Can you not be up there for six weeks? Do you have any doctor’s appointments you have to be here for?”
“No, everything is fine.” Hudson shrugged. “You remember when Dr. Bradford okayed your surgery, and you didn’t know what to do?”
Alana nodded.
“It’s kind of like that.”
“Too many good things happening at once and you don’t know how to feel about it?”
“Something like that.”
“To quote my therapist,” Alana said, knowing she was a filthy hypocrite and not caring very much, “you being scared shouldn’t necessarily be the reason you say no.”
“Ugh, I know.” Hudson sighed. “I’m just being a little bit of a baby about it.”
“You’re entitled.”
“If I could have made up a fake real wife,” Hudson said, gently rolling Alana so he hovered over her, “I would have had her be just like you.”
Alana reached up to kiss him so she didn’t cry.
“I feel like my husband is going off to war,” Alana said, three days later. Hudson was standing at the doorway of their apartment, bags all packed and ready to go. “And there’s not even one goddamn parapet for me to drape myself over and cry on.”
“Send an email to management,” Hudson replied. “Maybe they can do something about that.”
“I don’t even have a white handkerchief to wave,” Alana continued. “What kind of shitty wife am I?”
“I think somehow we’ll both survive, even if you don’t wave a white handkerchief.”
“Questionable.”
“I guess we’ll figure it out somehow.” Hudson shrugged on his backpack. “Be good while I’m gone.”
“Yes, husband,” Alana replied, rolling her eyes. “I shall pine for you by the window, read Scripture, and possibly fuck a priest.”
“Well, that all sounds a lot more inspiring than possibly fighting a bear.”
“Okay, Moby Dick.”
“That was a whale, baby.”
“Same difference.”
“When I get back, we’re going to have a little sit-down chat and relearn all the different animals.”
“I want a special PowerPoint of the ones you wrestled.”
“No promises.”
Alana laughed. “Sure, sure.”
Hudson sobered. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. Really. Took some painkillers this morning, and when you leave, I’ll double-lock the door and go crawl back into bed.”
“And if you think you have to go to the hospital?”
“Then I’ll call JP and have him escort me.” Alana reached up to Hudson. “I’ll be okay. Promise. No martyring for either of us, deal?”
“Deal.”
“You’re going to go and make new art friends and make sexy art and go breathe outside air or whatever.” And I will be here, missing you with every ounce of my being, because you have become part of me in a way that I don’t know if I can untangle, she didn’t say out loud.
“This feels like a motivational first day of school speech.”
“Multi-purpose.”
Hudson laughed and kissed her gently. “Be good, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye,” Alana said, as Hudson walked out of the apartment.
I love you, she didn’t say.
The apartment felt weirdly empty after Hudson had left. He had made sure to clean it thoroughly before he left, because, as he had said, he didn’t want Alana to have to deal with hard things after her period.
She cried a little when he told her that, but blamed it on her period. Was she overly hormonal because of that? Probably. Did that fully explain how much it was hurting for him to leave for a month and a half?
No.
But this would be good for them, she told herself again as she climbed back into her bed. Her bed, because he had been sleeping there with her for the past few days, and it smelled like him.
It would be good, because it was more than past time for her to learn how to live by herself. She was almost thirty, and she was old enough to learn how to be a strong independent lady who didn’t have a roommate, even if she financially could not afford to live that kind of life.
Hudson would probably be moving out soon, and as far as Shannon knew, she wasn’t moving back to the city any time soon, which meant either Alana was going to once again go through the hellscape that was trying to find a new roommate in New York City, or she was going to have to scrimp and save and see if she could find a studio that she would be able to afford by herself.
Either way, it would not be with her husband.
Her phone buzzed.
Ben.
“Just reminding you to send in the paperwork so I can make sure it’s filed on time,” Ben had texted. “Want to make sure you guys don’t get fucked over by taxes and stuff.”
Alana liked the message and shoved her phone back into the pile of blankets on the bed.
She should tell someone.
She should.
Maybe after. After the surgery, after recovery, after the divorce, something that she was sure JP was already planning a party for. After all of it, she would get screamingly drunk and tell Shannon.
Maybe lancing the wound would help heal it.
Fuck, her pain medication was making her maudlin.
She picked up her phone again, and, like an adult person who made good choices, opened up Netflix to binge something instead of texting Hudson that she missed him.