February 2
"I'm trying here, Barbara. I really am."
"Maybe that's the problem."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Maybe if you quit putting so much effort into everything you wouldn't come off so overburdened!"
"Overburdened? I'm not overburdened. I don't understand you."
"It's like you're trying too hard, trying to make up for something. Flowers, gifts, nights out? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"
"Why can't you just take it as it is? Maybe I had a wake-up call."
"A wake-up call? Why do you need a wake-up call? Are you implying that our marriage is troubled? That we're not working hard enough at it?"
"No, of course not. I just, I just want to make sure you're happy. I'm sorry if I'm overdoing it. I'll back off, I swear. I just... I want you to know what you mean to me, that I love you."
"Do you really? You know, when you finished your degree and joined the police, you were supposed to have more time. But now all of a sudden, you're working late, you're going in early, you're taking off in the middle of the day and not telling me what's going on. And then you come home and you cling to me and to Luke and you go out of your way to make up for things. And to top it all off, you're not yourself anymore. You're so much more serious these days, you're so... so... morose! You only laugh when Luke is around, but when you look at him... it scares me... there's fear in your eyes. What are you scared of? What is going on?"
Barbara was hysterical at this point, unable to control the volume of her words or the tears flowing from her eyes. John made to comfort her, but she stepped away from him. There would be none of that until he did some explaining.
"Ok, so maybe I've changed. I don't know why. Maybe something happened at work that sunk in more that I realized. But you've got to believe me when I say I'm dedicated to you and Luke. I just want us to be happy."
"God, John, are you even listening to me? That's what I'm saying! You want us to be happy, but we were happy! There was nothing wrong. Why are you acting like there is?"
"I'm not. Look, Barbara, I don't know what you want me to say. You want things to be like they were before, ok, fine, I'll act like I was before."
"Before? What do you mean? What happened John? Something did happen at work, didn't it? What was it?"
"Nothing. Nothing happened."
"Why won't you talk to me?"
"I'm trying Barbara, but I'm just not getting far. Why don't we leave this as it is and talk tomorrow?"
Her eyes burned with frustration. "Fine," she said sharply and walked out of the kitchen. When John finally made his way to the bedroom, he found a blanket and pillow folded on the other side of the closed door. Obviously he wouldn't be sharing his wife's bed tonight.
He lay on the floor of his son's room, listening to his steady breathing. Things were disintegrating faster than he'd expected in the four weeks since his return. He wasn't sure what to do. Everything he thought would help strengthen the marriage was only coming off as suspicious in Barbara's eyes. He thought about his divorce. It had been a painful, but by that point, inevitable event. The separation had happened just months after Luke's death and it marked the first time he'd turned to Monica as a friend. She'd always been there to listen to his woes during that time, and when it came time to sign the divorce papers, she came with him to give him the support he needed and could get from no other source.
She'd always talked to him reasonably when he could no longer think straight. When he would blame himself, she would console him with reminders of his efforts and loyalty – after all, he had not asked for the divorce and had instead tried to correct his faults to no avail during the separation. When he began to think it was Luke's death that had set it off, Monica would calmly tell him that the death of a child only breaks up a marriage that was doomed already. When he blamed Barbara for not trying hard enough, she would remind him that people grew apart and they'd married so young – at 21 – and that growing and changing were not negative qualities. She would say in her strong, caring tone that Barbara had moved on and he needed to do the same.
It was very apparent who he needed to talk to right now. Of course, he didn't feel it to be appropriate, calling her from his house at 10 o'clock at night. He worried that Barbara would overhear him, or worse, would sneak onto the other line and listen in. But he wanted to talk to her, to get her advice before the conversation resumed tomorrow morning. He peeled himself from up off the floor and headed outside. He was trying to be quiet in hopes of staying under Barbara's radar, so he left the car behind and jogged the mile and a half to the nearest payphone.