Chapter 11
TERINA
Past
Are you a fighter or a quitter?
I’ve been asking myself that for weeks, and I know it can’t be good. Not already.
As I swipe through wedding photos, it’s hard to believe only six months have passed. It seems like a lifetime.
I’ve been struggling with doubts about my marriage. It’s been so much harder than I imagined. I understand now what my parents had been trying to tell me, but it’s not the sort of information you can impart. This sort of life experience has to be earned.
My gaze drifts out the window from the gorgeous high-rise apartment my family bought us toward the financial district in the distance.
My husband is somewhere over there, working himself into the ground to build a life for us.
I’ve told him I don’t need to have the sort of money my parents have, but I don’t think he believes me.
Whatever the motivation, he’s been working sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, for months.
I hardly see him, and when I do, I don’t recognize him.
I massage my aching chest with my palm.
As much as the loneliness hurts, I prefer the pain to the constant doubts that plague me.
Did I rush into marriage? Getting married at twenty-two after only knowing one another for less than a year seems fast, but it felt so right.
Why have things changed so drastically? Will it get better? If so, how and when?
I keep myself as busy as I can to avoid answering the questions.
I even accepted a role as a board member at a local soup kitchen where I volunteer.
The extra responsibilities are a good distraction, and I get to indulge my love of exploring new recipes while keeping hungry people fed.
I like what I do, but I’d prefer it if it were a choice rather than an escape from the loneliness.
Every day I pray that someone will tell me what I can do to fix this, and every night my tears are my only answer.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a call, sending my heart into orbit.
Craig’s beautiful smiling face appears on the screen.
His contact photo was from a day we spent at the Bronx Zoo back when we were dating.
We got to feed huge pieces of lettuce to a giraffe, and he was endlessly tickled by the experience.
It was such a blissfully happy moment—one I love to relive every time my phone lights up with his calls—and a perfect reminder of what I’m fighting for.
Because I am a fighter.
I love Craig, and I want our marriage to work. I’m not ready to give up.
“Hey, baby,” I say with a smile that I hope he can hear.
“How’s my beautiful girl?” His words are sweet, and his tone is warm, but I can’t ignore the hint of distraction that’s ever-present these days.
“I’m good. Looking forward to dinner out with you tonight.”
“About that…” he draws slowly. “I can meet for dinner, but I’ll need to head back to the office after.”
“Back to the office so late?”
“Yes, Ree.” Exasperation sharpens his words. “We’ve talked about this. It won’t be forever.”
I can hear a pen rapidly tapping on his desk. I know it’s a pen because I’ve seen him do it at home, too, when he’s agitated.
“Is everything okay?” I ask warily. It’s the same question I’ve asked dozens of times before. I don’t know why I keep asking. He gives me the same response every time.
“Everything is fine. You worry too much.” His brush-off feels dismissive, but I don’t have a chance to comment when he continues. “Hey, did my passport arrive yet?”
It’s the second time he’s asked in a week. And is that strain in his voice?
Why would it matter if his passport arrived?
We don’t have any trips planned. He hardly has time for dinner, let alone a trip. Unless… Could he be planning a surprise getaway for us? A six-month anniversary excursion? God, that would be amazing. We desperately need some time together—away from the city.
“I haven’t checked the mail, but I’ll make sure to do that on my way to dinner, okay?” I ask brightly, buoyed by the hope of a fresh start.
“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
“Love you, Ree Ree.”