Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jules
I stroll out of the café, Mick’s hand in mine. His disappointment that I didn’t say ‘I love you too’ vibrates through our interconnected fingers. I just couldn’t do it. The words became stuck at the base of my throat because I don’t know how I feel about him anymore. Or about myself. Is it really love if I’m angry and frustrated all the time?
Mick took my laughter at face value, which, to be fair, isn’t unreasonable. I had two options in that hideous office—leave or find the funny side. Storming out was certainly appealing. But the hope in Mick’s expression changed my mind. Given how much he hates psychologists, it must have taken a lot of courage for him to make the call.
Traffic chokes the road, and the air is heavy with fumes even though cars supposedly have all this environmental protection built into them. It seems the city centre is always busy, no matter the time of day. Mick’s office building looms ahead of us. I release his hand and immediately sense the loss of the fragile connection. “See you tonight.”
He plants a kiss on my cheek. Lingers a second or two, or maybe that’s my imagination. “I might be late.” He winces. “I’m sorry. I?— ”
I touch my finger to his lips. “It’s okay. You’ve lost a couple of hours today. We can start our new habits tomorrow.”
We stand like that for a few seconds, the world around us blurring, then Mick strides towards the entrance where he’s soon gobbled up by the sliding doors.
On the train home, I replay the counselling session. Mick’s workaholic tendencies and my drinking are issues we both need to address. Neither of us can deny that. And we did laugh. So, it wasn’t all bad. But there was one question the psychologist didn’t ask.
What triggered the decline of our marriage?
It would be easy to blame it on Mick and my suspicions about his faithfulness. But it’s not that simple.