Page 71 of Little Last Words
“Do you consider a kiss cheating?” I asked.
“Don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say it carries the same weight as it would if they’d slept together, but that’s just my opinion.”
“How do you know they didn’t sleep together? You don’t. All you know is what he told you and what the neighbor saw.”
She was right.
I didn’t know for sure.
When I’d spoken to Zachary earlier, I’d gotten the feeling he was telling me the truth. I had no other way to explain it other than knowing what I felt in my gut, and my gut said the buck stopped with the kiss.
“Did you mean what you said about divorcing him?” I asked.
“Yes, no … I don’t know. I’m mad. I need him to understand that this situation is different. It’s not like our other arguments.”
“What are your other arguments like?”
“They’re not even arguments, to be honest. He doesn’t believe in raising voices, and if I raise mine, even a little, he shuts the conversation down. It makes me feel like I’m not heard.”
“How do you ever resolve anything that way?”
“I cave. Until today. I decided I’m tired of caving. He’s just so good, you know? He’s always there for me, always attentive, always putting my needs before his. When we argue … it’s hard to explain. It’s like he can’t handle the people in his life getting upset. He works extra hard to fix things so they’re not. Sometimes I don’t need a fixer. I need someone to listen to what I have to say.”
“Have you ever told him that?” I asked.
“I’ve tried. He wants everything to be perfect, and it’s hard for him if it’s not. I’m not perfect, nor do I want to be.”
How she was feeling and what mattered to her was becoming clear. I now saw a woman who seemed trapped in a way—a woman looking for an escape. And perhaps even a woman who was dealing with her own guilt over something which may or may not have had to do with the fit she’d thrown today.
“Do you love your husband?” I asked.
She raised a brow, seeming shocked at the question. “Uhh, yeah. Why?”
I paused for a moment to consider a better way of asking the same question.
“Are you happy in your marriage?” I asked.
“Why would you ask me such a thing?”
I still hadn’t asked the right question, but I had moved the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go.
“After hearing what you just said, I can’t help but wonder if you’re in a marriage you may have thought about getting out of before, except you didn’t have a valid, justifiable reason.”
“If I wanted out of my marriage, why would I still be here?”
I could think of a couple of reasons.
“Sometimes, people stay for the kids,” I said. “Other times people stay out of guilt or obligation. I may not know you, but I get the feeling you’re not happy, and you may not have been for a while now. Am I right?”
“I mean, I don’t … I don’t know.”
“You said you never argue because he can’t handle it. Some people believe it’s healthy never to have disagreements. It’s not. It sounds like when something’s bothering you, Zachary pacifies you by playing it down. I’m sure it takes a toll after a while—never being heard, never being able to say all the things you want to say.”
Vanessa downed the rest of her glass of wine and stood, pouring herself another. She plopped back down on the chair and said, “Can we talk about something else—anything else?”
“You have kids, don’t you?” I asked.