Love and Marriage
Chapter Four

That night, when Martin entered the house, he was met with the familiar smell of spaghetti and garlic bread—Claire's favorite meal. He set his keys down and then walked into the kitchen to find Claire helping Sam set the table.

Claire saw her dad walk in the kitchen and immediately ran over to him, clutching his leg. "Daddy!"

"Hey there, how are you?" He picked her up and held her close. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yep. We finger painted." She smiled. "I made my family. Mommy put it on there." She pointed to the fridge.

He walked over to the fridge, still carrying her, and looked at the picture. It was just a bunch of blobs, but he could tell what Claire was drawing. She was standing in the middle between Sam and himself. It was their family. But how much longer would they be a family? "That's a very nice picture sweetie."

"Dinner's ready." Sam announced, taking a bowl of spaghetti from the stove.

Martin, seeing something he could do to get on Sam's good side, grabbed the basket of garlic bread and brought it to the table for her. "Smells good."

"Thanks." Sam replied, fixing a plate for Claire. She then proceeded to cut up the spaghetti for her and then placed the plate in front of her daughter.

Dinner was slightly awkward, but it wasn't a total disaster. Claire talked most of the time, and that was fine with Sam. After she told Claire her bedtime story and tucked her in, she came back into their bedroom. She found Martin sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the carpet. Silently, she walked over and sat on the other edge of the bed, staring at the carpet. "So you wanted to talk?"

"I think we both know that it's past time for us to talk." Martin told her.

"Yeah." Sam replied. They were silent for a few moments, so she took this opportunity to speak. "Are you planning on divorcing me?"

He looked at her strangely. "Excuse me?"

"Are you planning on divorcing me?" She repeated, her voice stronger this time. "I just need to know."

"No…I don't know…Is that what you want? A divorce?"

"I don't know." She replied after thinking about it for a few moments.

"Have you ever cheated on me?" He asked quietly.

"Have I what?" She exclaimed angrily, getting up from the bed. "No I haven't cheated on you. Why in the world would you ask me that?"

"I just…" He knew that this would be her reaction, so why did he think that it was a good subject to bring up?

"You what? Think that just because I was Jack's mistress, I'd do the same thing to you?" She was beyond angry with him now. When would he be able to forget about her thing with Jack and stop holding it over her head? "No Martin, I haven't betrayed our wedding vows. Can you honestly say the same thing?"

"I've never cheated on you." He adamantly replied. Looking at her, she seemed unconvinced. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore." She sighed. "I'm just so tired of this."

"This?" He asked, prompting her to explain.

"This." She gestured back and forth between them. "Whatever has happened to us. I don't know about you but it's driving me crazy. I think we need to figure out what we want. Either we fix this or we cut our loses and separate."

"I think we should give it a little more time and keep going to therapy." He told her.

"How much time are we willing to spend going to therapy?" She asked, suddenly curious about the amount of commitment he was dedicating himself to.

"I don't know. I'm not sure how long it takes for therapy to start working." He replied. "Why? You want to count down the days until you're free?" He hadn't meant to say that, and he wasn't sure why he was being so difficult or mean to her.

She closed her eyes after hearing his statement, trying to calm down and not be angry with him or start crying. "I forgot." She laughed. "This is why we don't talk to each other. Because every time we do, I like you less and less." Needing to get out of there, she left the bedroom quickly.

"Sam, come back!" Martin called after her. They needed to talk. He needed to apologize for that last remark too, but she wasn't going to come back. Anytime they had a fight this close to bedtime she would always go and sleep on the couch. He figured that was where she would end up tonight. "Well that went well." He frowned.