Page 73 of The Write Choice

Brandon

I ask Katie a hard question.

She answers honestly.

And what do I do? I leave. I do exactly what she says I’ve been doing. I run away.

I need time to think, and there’s rarely any thinking when I’m pressed up against her under the covers. The problem is, the only thing I can think about is how much I’ve fucked this up and how much I’d rather be showing her how much she means to me, but I said what I said, and now I have to live with the consequences.

I try calling Daniel, but it goes to voicemail. He’s probably having a nice evening with his wife, and I fight the jealousy that comes with the realization.

Katie is right. What is she supposed to think of my absence, especially when I haven’t been able to communicate how difficult this job has been? How was she supposed to read the late nights in New York? I thought it was obvious I was working hard for my family, but she was working hard with the family. The family I convinced her I wanted.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands for what feels like forever. Eventually, I get up and go to our room. I listen at the door for any sounds, but it’s silent. I crack the door open and peek inside, only to see a dark room, the outline of her hips visible in the light filtering in from the hall. As much as I want to wake her up, pull her close, and shower her with promises that this time it’s going to be different, I know that wouldn’t be helpful.

She wants to believe me. I could tell in her voice. No matter how many times I’ve shown her evidence to the contrary, she sees the potential. She always has. It’s time I live up to it.

I close the door quietly behind me as I make my way back to the guest room. I grab a notebook from my office and settle into bed, though I don’t sleep. I stay awake long into the night, hashing out a schedule for my work that will allow me to be home in time for dinner for the rest of the week. The project might suffer. Then again, if I put it in the right hands, it might not. I flip to a new page, writing up some notes on what we’ve done so far and what Jasper and Thalia can take over from here.

Once it’s done, I feel good enough about it to get a few hours of sleep, but I’m jolted awake by Mason bursting through the guest room door.

“Mom sent me in here. She told me it’s your turn to ‘do the morning shit.’”

“Don’t say that word,” I grumble into my pillow.

Mason shrugs. “That’s what Mom said. Is she mad at you?”

Yes. I sit up slowly, grabbing a t-shirt off the floor next to the bed and sliding it over my head. “What makes you ask that?”

“You’re sleeping in here,” he says. We had done a pretty good job of hiding the separate sleeping arrangements from the kids the last time, but I knew that couldn’t last forever.

“Nah,” I lie. “I was snoring, and she kicked me out. No big deal. Come on, let’s get ready for school.”

I lead the kids in the usual morning routine. While they’re getting dressed, I slip into our bedroom to brush my teeth and grab some clothes, but Katie hides under the covers and doesn’t say anything to me. I know I asked for space, but it stings all the same.

As the kids are eating breakfast, I text Thalia to let her know to meet me at the high school instead of the office. I text Jasper to tell him that I plan to be on site for a few hours, and I won’t be in the office at all today. Then, I pack the kids up and head out.

When I get to the high school, Thalia is beyond grateful she didn’t have to go into the office today. We walk the site where the addition will be. I take a look at the outside of the building and make some notes about options for entry points, connecting the new and the old. All in all, it’s uneventful but useful, and I send Thalia home early to her baby.

“You know what I’m going to do?” she asks on her way to her car. “I’m going to let my parents keep hanging out with the baby, and I’m going to take a nap.” She smiles dreamily, as if just the thought of it makes her so happy, she could burst.

I chuckle. “I remember those days. Take the naps where you can get them.”

She nods, and I notice a stain on her shirt as she gets into the car. I remember those days, too, when I had to change my shirt three times before I was able to get out of the house. I smile fondly at the memory as I watch Thalia peel out of the parking lot on her way home.

I check my watch. It’s just about lunch time. I could call my new teacher friends and see if they’re available during their lunch periods, but there’s only one person I want to see right now, and she’s at home.

I get into my car and quickly google Thai restaurants. The pickings are slim, but I eventually find one that looks good enough. I order Katie’s favorite and bring it home, hoping to surprise her.

When I get inside, the house is completely silent. Katie’s car is in the garage, though, so I know she’s here. I put the food on the island and catch movement in her studio from the corner of my eye.

I don’t say anything as I walk to the open door. Once I get closer, I see her back is to me and she’s wearing her huge over-ear headphones. I lean against the doorframe to watch her. She’s perched on the stool in front of her easel, a small table set up next to it with various paints and cups of water set haphazardly on top of it.

I can’t see what she’s painting because her body is blocking the canvas, so I move further into the room. She has only painted the clothes and one set of hands, but the rest of the sketch is clear. It’s the kids and me, playing a board game. Christine is on my lap, leaning forward to touch a game piece, and Mason is clearly frustrated she’s messing up the game. She’s captured it perfectly.

Suddenly, Katie turns my direction. I’m closer to her than I thought I was because she swipes purple paint over my shirt and onto my bicep.

She must not have known I was there, because she yelps and jumps back, pulling the headphones off her ears and streaking her own cheek with purple in the process.