June 28th

"Okay, I'll get that order in. It'll be about ten minutes." Sarah smiled at the man, moved to the end of the counter and held one of the swinging doors open. "Need an extra-large pie with pepperoni and green peppers," she called. There was no response from Lou. She tucked pad and pencil in her apron pocket and stepped into the prep area to look for the older man.

"Be right there," he called from the back door. Sarah leaned to the right and caught a glimpse of him with someone—Roz. As Sarah watched they embraced, a hug that spoke of distress and comfort. After a few moments Lou chucked Roz under the chin and said something to make her laugh a little. As he patted her shoulder Sarah came forward. She stopped a few feet away.

"Hey, long time no see," she said, and offered a smile. "Taking something home for supper?"

Roz nodded. She looked tired and her gaze held quiet unhappiness, but she smiled back at Sarah. "Baked ziti."

"I'm betting Lou just put it in the oven," Sarah said. "It'll take a while for it to be done. Come talk with me. We can grab a booth, there's only one customer and he'll be gone in a few minutes."

A short time later they were settled in with two tall iced teas. Roz stirred some sugar into hers.

"I guess you talked with Greg," she said, and didn't look up. "We're—we're . . . not doing so well at the moment."

"Hey," Sarah said, and waited until Roz lifted her head. "The first thing you need to understand is that this isn't about you."

"Don't you have that doctor-patient thing you have to follow?" Roz said after a moment's silence.

"Yeah, I have to be careful about confidentiality. But there's nothing wrong with two close friends talking about husbands and how they drive you crazy sometimes." Sarah squeezed a lemon wedge over her tea and swirled it in with her spoon. "Part of this is about Greg's skill as a master game-player."

Roz nodded. "What's the other part?"

"First things first. This isn't about you."

"How can it not be? I'm supposed to be half of the partnership, the marriage." Roz peeled the paper off her straw. "Right now it feels like I'm the only one who still thinks of it that way."

"You don't know why he married you." When Roz didn't respond, Sarah pushed the point gently. "That's what you're thinking, aren't you?"

"Yes." Roz was barely audible. "Before we came home, it was so good . . . we've never been clingy or sappy, but we could talk. Now . . . I can't say anything, do anything, without him arguing with me."

"You think you're doing something wrong."

"I don't know." Roz sounded miserable. "I thought we wanted the same things, that we were headed in the same direction."

"You are." Sarah sipped her tea. "But you're both so anxious about this step you're taking, it's blinded you and him too." She took the time to add a little sugar to her glass. "Greg's gone through some big changes in the last year. One of the biggest is marrying you. For someone who's believed for a long time that he's unlovable, that's a huge step."

Roz nodded. "He still has trouble with that."

"And when he's unsure of himself or the people around him, he starts testing them." Sarah smiled a little. "I have first-hand knowledge."

"So what do you do when he's like that?"

"What have you been doing?" Sarah asked. Roz sighed.

"I've been trying to show how much I care, but he's acting like I'm pushing him away. Maybe I am, I don't know." She pushed her straw down and let it bob back up.

"Have you actually told him you love him? You know, said the words?"

"He always says he wants action, not words."

"That's not true. He needs to hear you tell him," Sarah said gently.

"How can I say anything when he's not listening?" Roz snapped. "He either makes fun of me or he says I'm just telling him what he wants to hear!"

"Believe me, he's listening. He just doesn't want you to think he is. It's part of the game," Sarah said. "Here's what I've found works best with him: total honesty and don't let up no matter what, but also show him you love him."

"I don't understand," Roz said after a few moments of silence.

"Okay. You give me an example of what's gone wrong recently and we'll see what we can do."

Roz hunched her shoulders. "Last—last night. I came in late and he . . . he said something snotty about my caring more about a building than I did about him." She lifted her head and gave Sarah a defiant glare. "He's the one who wants the damn clinic finished by the end of July! If I don't work on it in the evenings it won't get done!"

"Have you said that to him?"

"Yes!" Roz pushed her tea away. "He either tells me I'm full of it or he just ignores me!"

"I would suggest you stop working in the evenings," Sarah said. Roz made a frustrated noise. "No, now hear me out. You're already putting in a ten hour day, sis. By the time you come home you're wiped out. I know you'd rather spend the time with him. Anyway, there's no reason why Greg should eat his cake and have it too, which is what he's doing."

Roz thought about that. "You mean he gets to pick on me for giving him what he wants," she said slowly.

"Yup. He's great at extracting things from people while he mocks them, and sometimes he can be very cruel while he's doing it." Sarah took a swallow of tea. "Just make sure you tell him. Let him know you're onto what he's doing. Then show him you love him anyway. You do, don't you?"

Roz just nodded. Sarah reached out to put her hand over her friend's. "Communication is your most powerful counter to his game. He'll still give you a hard time, but I think you'll find if you continue to use honesty and love, it'll have an effect." She paused. "He'll always test you from time to time. He's worried he'll fail."

"I know." Roz glanced at Sarah. "He's having trouble sleeping. I hear him get up at night."

"Do you still read to each other before you go to bed?"

"We haven't done that in a while . . . you think it would help?"

"Yes. It's something both of you enjoy and share together. I'd suggest you begin reading again tonight, even if he doesn't join you."

"You . . . you really think it'll work?" Roz sounded sad.

"The only way you'll know is if you do it. Greg has trouble with intimacy, but if you show him you want to be with him, he'll open up eventually." Sarah smiled and gave Roz's hand a gentle squeeze. "So will you."

"This is that other part you were talking about earlier," Roz said. "I don't know if I want to hear this."

"You need to." Sarah didn't hesitate. "You're worried you're not good enough for him. It's making it difficult for you to see how much your love means to Greg. He told me he came home early to talk to you the other day when you missed having lunch together." She smiled a little. "If Greg ever changes his schedule it's usually to avoid people, not to meet with them."

"I just . . ." Roz sighed. "I can't help thinking he sees something in me that isn't there."

"You've always had a tough time believing you're worthy of someone's love and affection, even though Poppi Lou and Nana brought you up right, sis. Now you're married and going through a rough patch fairly early on. I'd be more surprised if you weren't having trouble."

"I . . . I know Greg's not a man to lie about his feelings," Roz said after a time. "I know his marrying me was huge. I just—I don't want to fail him."

"The only way you could do that is if you walk away," Sarah said. "So what are you gonna do when you get home tonight?"

"Peel off my clothes and belly dance into the living room wearing a plastic wrap bikini with a pan of baked ziti in my hands," Roz said dryly. Sarah laughed and gave Roz a pat before she let go.

"Let him know you get what he's up to. Then show him you love him. If you need help, call me. He'll already know you talked with me, so don't worry about that. I'll back you up if he gives you a hard time."

"Thanks." Roz got up, leaned in and kissed Sarah's cheek. "You're the best," she said softly as Lou walked up with a covered aluminum pan in his hands, along with a white paper bag.

"I added a batch of garlic knots. That way neither one of you will kiss anyone else for at least the next two days," he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Roz took the food and gave Lou a one-armed hug.

"Let us know how things go," Sarah called as Roz hurried out the door. When she was gone she glanced at Lou. "Garlic knots. Nice touch."

"Better than knocking their heads together." Lou sat down in the booth. "Stubborn as mules, those two."

"Yes, they are. But when they find their way through this, it'll make them stronger." Sarah sipped her tea.

"Speaking from experience?" Lou chuckled when she rolled her eyes. "Well, me too when it comes to that. I loved my wife more than life itself, but no one could dig their heels in deeper than she could during a fight. Porca miseria, that woman could drive me insane."

"Pig misery," Sarah said, delighted. "Have to remember that one." She looked over as the front door bell jingled. "Looks like the t-ball team's here."

"Five baskets of chicken nuggets and two mac and cheese pizzas," Lou said. "Better get started." He got to his feet and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Thanks for helping my girl."

"My privilege," she said with a smile, and headed out to herd the team into booths and take the orders.

[H]

Roz came in the back door to the kitchen and put the food on the counter. The house was dark, but faint light came from the living room; she could hear the tv and the play-by-play of a baseball game. Quietly she put the ziti and bread in the oven and set it on warm, then turned on the light over the stove. With that she headed into the living room. Greg was stretched out on the couch, beer in hand. The remains of a peanut butter sandwich sat on the coffee table. As she came in his gaze shot to her, then back to the game. Roz came over to the couch, bent down and kissed his forehead.

"Hey," she said. "Brought home some dinner. Let me get cleaned up and we can eat and watch the game."

Vivid blue eyes scrutinized her with disbelief. "What's the big occasion?"

"I'm home from work," she said with a smile. "Back shortly."

When she came out he hadn't moved, but she felt his eyes on her all the way into the kitchen. She'd put on one of his tee shirts and a pair of old cutoffs; the evening was warm, and it felt good to have her thick cotton jumpsuit off for the first time all day.

It was quick work to bring out two plates of food, silverware and a couple of cold beers. "Move your feet," she said, and placed everything on the coffee table.

"I already ate," Greg said.

"You had a sandwich. This is a real supper," she said, and picked up a plate. After a moment Greg did the same. "Who's playing?"

"Braves and Marlins," he said, and took a fork. "So what's the bribe for?"

"It's not a bribe," Roz said. "It's supper."

"And I suppose I get to clean up while you go to the clinic," he said around a mouthful of ziti. She shook her head.

"I'm not going to the clinic. In fact I'm done working in the evenings."

Greg put down his fork and gave her a hard stare. "You talked to Sarah," he said. It was more accusation than statement.

"Yes I did," Roz said. She ate a bite of ziti.

"She's got no business telling anyone what to do when she's obsessed over finding the perfect secretary." He paused. "So this is your version of 'Can This Marriage Be Saved?'."

Roz winced at the pain well-hidden behind the sarcasm. "It's a course correction." She put down her fork. "I don't like not talking to you and then arguing all the time when we do say something. I . . . I miss being friends. Being lovers, not just two people who live in the same house and share a bed."

Greg was silent for a few moments. "I suppose that's my fault," he muttered. Roz shook her head.

"I get prickly when I'm scared and push people away," she said. "Sometimes I wonder what you saw to make you want to marry me—"

"Don't talk like that," he snapped. "You sound ridiculous."

"It's the truth," she said. "I'm just—just trying to explain." She stared at her plate. "I feel like I can't say or do anything right, so I—I sort of stop talking. I'm sorry. I should have told you what was wrong."

"Don't apologize when it's something someone else told you to say." Now he sounded mad. Roz put down her plate, took a deep breath. Her hands shook; she folded her arms to hide the tremors.

"No one told me to say that. I mean it." She looked at him. Yeah, he was mad. "Everything I've said has been the truth."

"Interesting." He picked up a garlic knot and ate half of it with one bite, chewed slowly as he studied her. Roz waited. She knew he'd set her up for a sucker punch. He swallowed and downed a swig of beer, belched. "So what brought on this sudden fit of penance?"

"I miss you," she said, and couldn't go on. She unfolded her arms, picked up her bottle and drank some beer.

"That's it? I'd guess you're probably ovulating and horny as hell," Greg said. "If so, you don't have to put yourself through all this groveling, I'm happy to oblige. I've been giving my right hand a workout lately."

Roz didn't look away. "I'm not groveling. I meant what I said. I miss you and I want our friendship back. And yeah, I'd love to bang you, but not if you're going to leave twenty bucks on the dresser." She couldn't resist a shot back. To her surprise he gave a snort of amusement.

"Cheap date." He watched her closely. "What if I say no to all this open and honest communication?"

Roz shrugged. Disappointment welled up inside. "Your loss." She set down her beer and picked up her plate. "My plan for tonight is to watch the game. Then I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."

"You think mine hasn't." It was pure provocation.

"I didn't say that. Five hours of boredom is probably worse than ten hours of crawling around in basements and attics. I'd rather be doing something to keep me occupied." She glanced at him. "I never realized that before."

Greg said nothing, only picked up his fork and shoveled in an enormous bite of ziti. Roz managed a few more mouthfuls, then took the rest to the kitchen and packed it for her lunch.

She stayed awake through three innings, but her long day caught up with her. She was jolted out of a doze by a hard push on her thigh. It turned out to be from Greg's foot.

"Go to bed." There was no sympathy in his voice. Roz blinked and looked at the tv.

"Who's ahead?"

"You couldn't care less and your snoring is making it hard to hear the announcers. Go to bed."

She got to her feet, deeply hurt by his coldness. "Okay," she said quietly.

"What's the matter? No snotty remark, no lecture?" It was an open taunt. Roz didn't turn back.

"Good night," she said. Without another word she headed for the bedroom.

Roz sat up for a while with the book of poetry she'd brought home from the library on Kris's recommendation. When Greg didn't show she put the book away, turned off the light and lay in the darkness, sad and discouraged, until sleep claimed her.