Seven #3
My mouth soured at the idea of spending time with Wren. Wren stirred up feelings in Sarah that would drive us further apart. I saw it in my wife’s eyes the first time Sarah held her. Wouldn’t Wren just be a constant reminder of what would never be?
“Plus, I—I thought we could cross some stuff off the list.”
I tried to hide the way my jaw clenched in anger. “Like what?”
“Well, we could swim in a pond.”
“I’m not swimming in that pond, Sarah.”
“Bea does.”
“Bea has been bewitched by a cowboy who grew up swimming in that filth.”
“Alright.” She huffed in annoyance. “We can watch the sunrise.”
“You want me to watch the sunrise?”
“Fine! You can hold my hand while I watch the sunrise. That’s been my longest standing list item and we’ve yet to cross it off.”
“Anything left on your list that a blind person can do?”
“Lots of things, actually.”
“Then by all means, continue.”
She sighed again, annoyed by my tone. “We can ride a mechanical bull.”
“So we’ll go to a rodeo ranch but ride a fake bull?
” I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was insane.
Now that I was blind, I didn’t even like walking in new places.
She really thought she could get me up on a mechanical bull?
I shook my head, my laughter dying with a sigh. Why wouldn’t she just let it go?
“You don’t have to be so snotty, you know.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Honestly, we don’t have to do anything on the list. It was just a suggestion. If all we did was talk, sleep, and snuggle, I’d be happy.”
I didn’t point out that those types of things had never been enough for Sarah.
She was always on the go. Which I loved in the beginning of our relationship, but now her high-drive made me feel like a rusty chain around her ankles.
“Do they know we’re coming? Did they even have an open room at the bed and breakfast? I thought they stayed booked out.”
“They actually didn’t have an open room.”
“So, where are we staying then?”
“In their new fifth wheel.”
I grimaced. “A fifth wheel?” For some reason I pictured Eddie’s beat up RV from the movie Christmas Vacation. “Interesting. When did they get that?”
Sarah’s voice strained to stay positive. “They got it earlier this year so that Hollie and the kids could travel with Jesse. Since they homeschool, they hit the road all the time. Apparently, Jesse did a rodeo in Canada a few months back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I saw pictures on their Instagram.” She mercifully changed the subject to cut the tension. “Hollie looks so good. She was wearing a cowgirl hat and boots—it’s safe to say she’s fully embraced the life she’s living.”
I used to talk to Bea every week, but I’d stopped answering her calls months ago.
To my shame, I knew nothing about their lives anymore.
I remembered that Tag was on trial as a rough stock contractor for the Western Professional Rodeo Alliance and was waiting for a final decision about his official membership, but if Meadowbrook was already doing rodeos in Canada, maybe that decision had been made and I missed the announcement somehow.
I spoke slowly. “Is…Meadowbrook pro already?”
“Nope, not yet. Tag’s probationary period with the Alliance is two full years. He’ll get a yes or no sometime next month. They are running professional rodeos, but only on trial. So they have the insane schedule without the benefits yet.”
Why did Sarah sound like an employee? She was a lot more educated about Meadowbrook’s rodeo status than I would’ve expected. It made me feel out of touch—like an outsider.
“I guess you talk to Bea and Hollie a good bit,” I said.
She hummed. “Once a week-ish. And all us girls are in a group chat.”
All us girls—meaning my wife and my four sisters.
When silence fell again, she said, “I wanted to leave Sunday morning at 4 a.m. so we could beat traffic and arrive at a reasonable hour. But, due to our setbacks, we will have to get a hotel.”
“Okay.”
“You aren’t mad at me?”
“I mean, I don’t really get the point of traveling nine hundred miles to talk and snuggle, but I’m not mad. I don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations though.”
“Like what?”
“That I’m suddenly going to be going on backwoods excursions just because the sunshine and fresh air did me good.”
She didn’t respond.
I breathed out a soft laugh. “That’s exactly what you’re expecting, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I just…want to be with you and not be miserable for once.” Inwardly, I winced. How did we go from giddy with love to boiling with resentment? Sarah wasn’t wrong. We were both so miserable we were hardly breathing anymore.
She continued, giving a humorless laugh.
“My expectations are things like enjoying each other's company, having a little fun, going on a leisurely walk, or”—she laughed again, the sound almost manic—“here’s a crazy idea…maybe we could have sex! But you’re right!
All of that is totally unrealistic. My bad. ”
There were so many flaws in what she said. I wanted to point them out, but I bit my tongue.
We needed to stop fighting anyway.
It would be a long drive.