Chapter 28
Late August
Man, it’s hot. Any time I share a bed with Peter it feels stifling, and I can’t tell if it’s us as a couple, or just me.
Doesn’t matter how wide I open the window, or how light the sheets.
Sometimes I sleep in the second bedroom for a few hours, to get some distance and coolness. He grumbles about that, though.
We’ve been bickering a fair amount. He’s mad I still haven’t told him I love him, even though he’s said it lots, and we’ve been together a while now.
And I get mad at his over-confidence, and because I’m frustrated I can’t let go of my old life.
But I care about Peter so much, I also don’t want to lose him.
So, it’s better to put a bit of space between each other.
He’s been spending fewer nights at mine.
Even now, after five months of dating, I’ve never once stayed at his place.
I’m so tired. I’ve been having a lot of nightmares — about you, and mirrors, and masks.
Sometimes in Venice, and sometimes on a remote, west-facing beach.
Always Rob, with you, often both of you laughing at me.
I ask you why you’re doing this to me, stealing my husband, my life.
I beg you to give him back. I plead with you. I wake up exhausted.
And recently, a new fun thing — panic attacks.
At home, at work, riding my bike, watching TV, in bed with Peter .
. . I’ve been having them quite badly, every few days.
A flood of gut-churning panic rises in my stomach and waves through my body, hitting my head a few seconds later, making me dizzy and almost unable to stand.
Even on days without the attacks, my appetite has diminished and my stomach is over-sensitive. My insides have gone squishy.
I realize I’m pretty much clinically depressed at this point. If I went to a doctor and listed my symptoms, that’s what they’d say. I’d be referred to therapy and prescribed anti-depressants or anxiety meds. And if I took them, they might make me feel better.
But I don’t want to feel better. I don’t deserve to feel better.
For most depressed people, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend they use whatever was prescribed.
But I don’t have a valid illness, a chemical imbalance that is messing with my brain.
There is an actual reason I’m depressed, and it isn’t okay to numb that with medication.
Plus it wouldn’t help to see a therapist, only to lie about the truth.
I’m in the wrong life. The wrong goddamn universe. And I’m in a relationship with the wrong man. A wonderful man, but the wrong man.
The one thing that has made living in this world worthwhile has been having David back. Miraculously, incredibly alive again. But now, he’s in Australia with his new wife and soon their new baby, and I’ll barely see him. Or even get to know my new niece as much as I’d like to.
Staring at the bright laptop in the darkness of her bedroom, Josie slowed her breathing, trying to subdue the melancholy that seemed prevalent these days. She glanced over at Peter, who had his back to her, sound asleep.
Thinking of her soon-to-be baby niece, Josie turned to the pictures Anna had emailed.
She traced her finger over the latest sonogram of the unborn baby.
This little girl who would think of her only as the distant Aunt Josie who lived in New York, who mailed her birthday and Christmas gifts and visited every couple of years.
Josie let a tear fall on her bare chest. Peter sensed something and stirred, rolling over toward her in the darkness. He looked at her face, lit by the cold whiteness of the screen.
“Honey. Whatcha doing?” he muttered.
“Just the pictures Anna sent me. She has a big belly already. Go back to sleep, I won’t be long.”
“Are you crying?” He sat up in bed and tried to put his sweat-sticky arm around her, but she pulled away.
“It’s too hot . . . I’m fine. A bit emotional about David having a baby in Australia. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“We’ll be there in November for the wedding. We’ll meet her then.”
Josie winced. Peter had assumed he would accompany her to Sydney for the wedding, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Part of her wanted him there, and she knew they could make a bigger trip of it. But mostly she wanted quality time with her family and no other distractions.
“What?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“I’m not sure.” Three in the morning was probably not the best time to resolve this.
“What?” he repeated, more irritably. They sat in the dark, a slight orange glow coming in from the streetlights outside.
She braced herself. So, it looked like it was going to be now, after all. She closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand.
“I’m not sure you coming to Australia is the best thing.” The best thing was to be honest. “I’m unsure, because we’d have a great time, and I know you’re keen to see the Gold Coast. But there’s another part of me that longs for a close family holiday — with the baby, and the wedding, and all.”
Peter sat upright and switched on his bedside light. Josie blinked in the sudden brightness.
“Are you kidding me, Jose? You don’t want me to come with you?”
“I’m not sure, that’s all. I’m torn about it, and I thought I’d better be straight with you. There are two options, for two very different visits, and I can’t figure out which I’d prefer.”
“Well, shit, Jose. What about what I prefer? Don’t I get a say? Is this trip The Josie Show? Most women would ‘prefer’ to have their boyfriend with them at a family wedding, and for an amazing Australia vacation, you know that?”
“Of course — and I didn’t say I don’t want you there, only that I’m uncertain.”
“Give me a break. That’s bullshit.”
Josie rose and pulled on her robe, unable to be naked in bed if they were going to fight. Peter stared at her. Josie’s knees trembled, so she sat again, this time at the foot of the bed.
“I’m having a hard time. You know that, P.
I’m feeling shitty all the time, and I am having a real challenge being in such an intense relationship.
I really care about you, a lot — but sometimes it’s too much.
I understand you’re making an effort, and I appreciate it.
But two weeks in Australia, with all my family, with the wedding, and the baby .
. . That’s a lot. Maybe a little more than I can handle. ”
Peter shook his head. He stared down at his hands, less furious than defeated. For some reason, that was worse.
“You care about me, a lot,” he echoed. A redness appeared around his eyes. She’d never seen him cry. “But you don’t love me. You still don’t love me. You’re depressed, Josie, but no matter what I say, you refuse to get help. And I can’t make you happy. You won’t let me.” He grimaced.
“I’m so sorry. I really am.” Josie reached out and put her hand on his leg. “You deserve better than what I’m giving you, we both know that.” For some reason, she wasn’t crying, despite her misery.
Peter looked up, stricken. “What are you saying? That it’s over?”
“I’m not saying anything. Only that you deserve better, which is true.” Josie also felt panicked at the idea of a breakup. What did she have in this world, without him?
“Damn straight. Question is, are you going to give me better?”
That confidence. He was expecting a yes.
“I’ve been trying to give you better for months, and I’m doing worse than ever. I can’t say yes. I have no promises to offer.” She shook her head, exhausted. All she wanted was sleep.
Peter stared at her, stunned. They sat in tense silence for a moment, and then he swung his legs out of bed, tugging on his briefs and jeans. He stood upright, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
“I’m going home. When you decide you want to be in this relationship, you give me a call.”
He stopped at the bedroom door. “Otherwise, you likely won’t see me for a while. I wasn’t sure about rejoining the choir this fall, with the band doing so many gigs, so maybe it’s better if I don’t.”
He didn’t move, probably hoping she would try to talk him out of quitting choir. But the truth was it was kind of a relief. If they had to break up, Josie didn’t want him at rehearsals.
She gave him a tiny nod. Peter shook his head and walked out. A minute later, Josie heard him slam the main door downstairs. Even above the bridge traffic’s drone, she could make out his footsteps as he walked away from her building.
At least now she would be able to get some rest.