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Sweatpants & Apologies
It's June 20th. I've been out of my coma for two whole weeks.
Happy Anniversary to me.
Time has kind of been a blur- sometimes I feel completely normal, like my life is just like anyone else's, and then- here's the kicker- I remember that I don't know who I'm supposed to be, or who I was the past four years. I remember that I crashed my car on the interstate and wound up in a coma, and I remember that I can't remember.
And, to make things worse, Jack's still mad at me. It's been three days since the dreaded fight, and I've figured out that both of us are entirely too stubborn to admit defeat- even though I was the one who was out of line. I was the bitch, but I don't plan on letting him in on that.
He's in the kitchen right now, slicing something or other, since I've since figured out he does most of the cooking, too. Am I utterly worthless? He's busy enough with the work and the stress that comes along with it, and then he comes home to me- his wife- the wife who doesn't remember him- meeting him, marrying him, nothing- except getting stung by a jellyfish and planning the wedding with his frigid mother.
And then he cooks for me. Because that's the kind of guy Jack is. Sometimes I think he cares too much. No, he definitely does. I can hardly put up with me.
I walk into the kitchen and he acknowledges me with a nod. We've basically mastered the art of having conversations without actually speaking much in the past few days. If I'm reading him right, Jack's not really all that mad about our whole baby talk- he just doesn't want to be the first one to break.
Maybe I should move past all of this and crack under the pressure. I'm so desperate to talk to someone besides my mom or Lucy, who have both been phone stalking me. They apparently don't understand that I don't feel like talking to them twelve hours of the day. Mom is driving me nuts, trying to set up a time I can meet her new husband, my stepfather, and Lucy has convinced me to go out with her tonight, even though I don't feel like being dragged to some Manhattan bar where I feel out of place. And old.
I'm one of those bitches Lucy and I would see in a bar back when we were in school and make fun of. I'm almost thirty.
Before he can ask for it, I hand Jack the carrots I know he wants. He nods again, supposedly in thanks, but when he doesn't think I'm looking I see the thin line of his mouth break into something that might be considered a smile. He's probably enjoying this. Ass.
The next thing I know, after a few syllables of explanation to Jack, I'm climbing into a cab with Lucy, who, unlike me isn't dressed up for a night on the town. She has on sweats and a t-shirt. I'm almost embarrassed to be seen in public with her, and if not for her manicured nails and her shiny black hair, it might look like I enjoy befriending homeless people.
"I'm depressed," she tells me, looking to me for comfort, forcing me to say something. I thought we'd already figured out sympathy isn't exactly my strong point.
She hadn't mentioned her 'depression' in any of the thirteen phone conversations I've had with her over the past few days. I made the mistake in calling her and telling her all about the fight I had with Jack. Or the fight I'm still having with Jack. Whatever. But as I'm listening to everything she says, I definitely don't remember her being such miserable company in the past.
"Uhh, what's wrong? You sounded fine this morning..." This better be good.
Shifting on the seat beside me, she crosses her legs indian style. "I was fine this morning! This morning was before my life ended."
Jesus. Who does she think she is right now? She wants to talk to me, the girl with practically no memory, about her life ending? Come on.
"Ted got the apartment," Lucy moans, slamming her head into the leather seat behind her.
"What do you mean Ted got-"
She lets out a loud sigh. "In the divorce settlement. His lawyer got him the apartment."
"Oh shit," I mumble, though I don't mean to. "I mean, everything will be fine! Don't worry about it!"
I guess my problems really do pale in comparison with hers at the moment. Never thought I'd be saying that.
"How am I supposed to not worry about it? I have nowhere to live! I'm divorced! I'm turning thirty in twenty-three days! My life is going down the drain," she says bitterly, and by now I feel like it's my obligation to cheer her up, and most likely why she invited me out in the first place. I feel used, but mostly sympathetic.
"You'll find a place in no time," I offer meagerly, and Lucy sees right through this.
"Yeah right. You don't even believe that," she scoffs. Telling the cab driver to pull over, she starts to pull some money out of her wallet, but I figure I'm in a better situation to do so, since I have somewhere to live and all.
Lucy orders one of the biggest cones of ice cream I've ever seen- my treat, and I get one about half the size.
"When do you have to be out?"
"End of the month. Can you believe that? I'm supposed to figure out where I'm going to fucking live, and move there, in ten fucking days! Fuckety-fuck."
Shit. She really is homeless, and it's not just the sweats, even if they are freaking gross.
And okay, so I'm laughing inside, because that was perhaps the most hilarious use of profanity I've ever heard. Does that make me a bad person? Come on Kate, look like you feel bad for her.
I can sense what's coming next, but I hope to whatever is up there in the sky that she won't ask. Please, please, please don't ask to stay with Jack and I. Please.
"So, you know, if something doesn't work out do you think it would be alright if I stayed with you and Jack for a little bit? Just until I figure something out?"
Damn.
I almost want to say yes, but I know how angry that would make Jack, and most likely how angry Lucy would make me. And Jack and I are already not getting along. We're trying to build our relationship, and she would only get in the way of that.
She must sense my hesitance. "Oh," Lucy mutters. "It's okay, I know you don't want me to."
"It's not that-"
"It's okay," she says, even though her voice gives away that it's not. "You and Jack must still need some time."
"Yeah. We're still trying to work stuff out, and we're kind of fighting right now, and I just don't think it would be the best time-"
"Kate, it's okay," she tells me flatly. "I'll find someplace."
She doesn't even ask me about Jack, and we part ways awkwardly, after she's dripped her ice cream all over her green sweats. I feel like I've backtracked. I pushed her out of my life somehow, and I still made it all about me. I decide that I need the fresh air, and even though it's pitch black out, a walk will clear my mind.
I still find that phrase incredibly ironic. 'Clear my mind.' Right. Done. Cleared, and not by choice.
Babies. How again did I suddenly decide that I want some? With a man that I suppose I've known for five years, but on my count, it's been more like... fourteen days. I guess there's some sort of instinct inside me, a pre-motherly instinct or something, something that's telling me Jack's the right man and the right father. Not that we're going to be getting started on this anytime soon, since he kind of, you know, hates me a little bit right now.
Street lamps line the sidewalk as I get nearer to the apartment, giving off a soft glow that I've always thought looks somewhat like it should be in a movie. I can't ever imagine not living in New York City. It's so alive.
There's no mistaking the outline walking in my direction, his head somewhat down, like he's in thought and counting his steps between the cracks of the sidewalk. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and when we're about ten feet apart, he raises his head and looks towards me, like he sensed my presence or something.
"Hey," I offer, after I stare at him for what seems like a minute. That was lame.
"Hey."
The people passing us are throwing us quizzical glances. They're probably wondering why two people who seem so uncomfortable around each other are stopped on the sidewalk having a chat.
"Nice night," he says, and by now I've figured out it's what he says when he has nothing else to say.
"Yeah. Listen, Jack-" I start, ready to forget my pride and get this over with, because otherwise my existence will be miserable, and his probably will be too.
"Wait," he interrupts. "Just... let's not, okay?"
So I guess he wants to ignore this all. Pretend like everything's okay?
"But... I mean, I know you're mad about everything we said to each other the other night. I just wanted to apologize..."
He squeezes his eyes shut briefly. "Kate, I don't want to talk about this again because I don't want it rubbed in my face some more that I'll never have any children. Okay?"
Surprisingly, he doesn't sound angry, more like contemplative and a bit subdued, like he's thought about it so much there's no emotion left. He looks defeated, sad.
I have to tell him, even if it scares the shit out of me, even if it makes me feel vulnerable and emotionally exposed.
So even though I probably shouldn't, even though my nerves are screaming at me to stop, to protect myself, I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against him, only it's not nearly as nice as it normally is. His hands remain deep in his pockets instead of around me, and his body is a little stiff against mine.
"Jack," I whisper in his ear, and I swear I can feel the skin prickle on his neck. I think for the first time that maybe I have the same effect on him that he does on me.
"I don't know what I was like before, and why I didn't want kids, but when I think about it now..."
Okay, just say it. "When I think about it now, I can't imagine not having kids. I can't imagine us not having kids, Jack."
Suddenly he's pulled away from me, but it's not quite the reaction I was expecting.
"No," he starts, motioning with his hands, his brow creasing. "I didn't want to make you change your mind, Kate. This isn't how it's supposed to be."
Oh God. Why does everything have to go so... not as I planned?
I let out a bark of laughter that seems to to get his attention. "In case you haven't noticed, Jack, none of this is exactly how it's supposed to be."
Because really, was I supposed to get in a terrible car accident? Was I supposed to forget my life, my husband, who I am? I doubt it.
"Because I don't know, now I want children when I apparently didn't want them before, now I want so many things that I'm not sure I'm supposed to. I'm not sure if anything I'm doing is what I'm supposed to be doing!"
Here I go again, unleashing at Jack, but this time he doesn't look angry. He looks like he pities me, which is basically worse.
"Am I supposed to be feeling this way about you, am I supposed to be falling for you even though I've know you for two weeks? Is it even okay that I'm thinking about having kids with you? Am I delusional because I think about sleeping with you and what it would be like? Nothing I do is right, nothing I think is right and I can't do a damn thing about it."
Fuck. I didn't really want to say 90 percent of that out loud, but out it went. And now he knows.
"Just stop," he coaxes. Then there's a warm arm wrapping around my shoulders and I jump. This is strange again. He starts walking and I have no choice but to go along, as our legs synchronize steps, and I'm lulled into a more peaceful state. We haven't completely resolved this, and I know the fight will still be in the back of each of our minds, but that's okay.
When he plants a kiss on the top of my head, I get the feeling everything will be fine. I know that he doesn't even have to apologize, and he knows too. I've said enough for the both of us.
It's becoming awkward again as we walk silently around the block in the warm night, his arm still holding me securely. And he stops, his mouth to my ear, sending chills right through me, just like I did to him earlier. Maybe there's more to us than I thought, a push and pull.
"I'll love you no matter who you are."
So we're not perfect, but we're close enough.