Chapter Four #3
She said, frazzled, “No, I’m not, but nobody punched me in the face, so I should really be asking you that.”
She looked pale and frantic. She was breathing in and out really hard.
I was touching her hair when the doctor told me my nose wasn’t broken. Joy exhaled loudly, and some color returned to her face. The doctor said noses are just delicate parts of our bodies. They have a lot of blood supply. Trauma breaks the blood vessels.
“But she’ll be okay?” Joy asked.
“Yes,” the doctor said.
Joy and I looked at each other. The fear we felt regarding my nose and the angry man dissipated, but it left us with the awareness that we weren’t safe, and we needed to be more cautious.
I wonder what it would feel like to be a man with a girlfriend and to know that I had the capacity to protect her, to really punch back. I remember play fighting with Ben and realizing how much stronger he was than me. I’m aware I’m not a match for most men.
If Joy and I were born a few hundred years prior, or in a different part of the world, I might suggest we take husbands for the sake of our safety.
She and I could meet in secret. Convince our husbands that our families should live together.
I wonder how many women have done that. It’s sad to think of a woman living with, sleeping with, and devoting her life to a man she doesn’t really love to stay safe, and it’s also sad to think of her husband, unloved, and unaware.
While it’s depressing that Joy and I aren’t comfortable kissing in public, it’s nice to know that she and I aren’t together just because we can provide for or protect each other.
In Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte marries Mr. Collins because she’s twenty-seven years old, has no money, no prospects, and she’s frightened.
While women today don’t have to get married for the exact same reasons the ladies in 1813 did, the residue of those reasons is pervasive, and it impacts heterosexual relationships.
I wasn’t consciously aware of what motivated me to be with Ben, and it was very hard for me to recognize that I was with him for the wrong reasons.
It’s nice to know that Joy and I are together just because we want to be.
“She has a respiratory infection,” Joy says. “They gave us these saline drops for her nose, and we have to use a humidifier and elevate her head.”
I exhale, relieved. “Oh, thank God. So she’s okay?”
“Yes. She’s okay,” she says.
I put a hand on my heart. “I’m so glad.”
She sighs. “Me too. I’m sorry for the panic earlier.
I worried it was, like, an obstruction in her airway, or a sign of some underlying medical condition.
I googled it, and it listed congenital heart defects and underdeveloped lungs.
And we haven’t gotten all of her test results back, and she’s missing fingers, so I worried maybe it was something awful. I—”
“It’s okay. I’m just happy she’s all right. Though I’m sorry she has a respiratory infection.”
I feel bad for babies when they’re sick. It must be so confusing. They don’t understand.
She says, “I know. It’s hard to see a baby sick. She’s never been sick before. She’s probably confused.”
“I was just thinking that. She’s in good hands, though. She’s got you and Sophie taking care of her,” I say.
“Yeah.” She laughs feebly. “We’re figuring it out. How are you doing there without me?”
I’m in bed, wearing her sweater because I feel lonely.
“I’m doing well, thank you,” I say. “The house is extremely tidy. No one’s left tea bags in the sink or created little doom piles of miscellaneous items on the coffee table. And there’s much less hair on the tile in the shower. I usually get to interpret this abstract art made of long human hair—”
“Wow,” she interrupts me. “So, you don’t miss me at all, do you?”
I laugh. “No, I do.”
“How are our cats?” she asks.
“They’re good.”
“Even Kyle?”
“Kyle isn’t our cat,” I say, “but he’s a good guest. He’s enjoying your workshop. I don’t want to keep him cooped up in there too long, though.”
“Maybe you could try introducing him to the girls tomorrow?”
“I need to take him to the vet first to get his vaccines,” I say.
“Oh, that’s smart. I knew there was a reason I married you.”
“Ha ha,” I say tonelessly.
She laughs. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. When are you coming home?”
“I need to stay a little while, I think. Sophie would have lost it if she had to deal with that breathing thing alone. Kearney is useless. She needs help, and she seems really worried that I’ll leave soon. She keeps asking me with terror in her voice how long I plan to stay.”
“Are you sure she’s not hinting that she wants you to leave?” I joke.
She laughs. “No, definitely not. Me being here is the only reason she’s able to sleep or shower. She can’t move quickly or lift anything heavy because of the C-section, and now January is sick. Is it okay with you if I stay a while, though? Do you mind?”
“Of course, yeah, that’s okay,” I say.
“Have you been feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I’m feeling fine.”
“You’re safe?”
“Yes. I’m safe.”