Page 38 of Brain Damage

Eventually, Clark comes out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a Speedo. The lean muscles on his chest that first attracted me to him bulge enough to almost make me forget my anger. Almost.

“So,” Clark says like everything is totally fine, “do you want to hit the beach?”

“No,” I say. “I want to talk about the fact that you quit your job without telling me.”

Clark rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“It is a big deal,” I insist. “I’m your wife and you’re supposed to discuss these decisions with me.”

In all honesty, even though I’m still really angry, it gives me a bit of a thrill to refer to myself as his wife.

“Well, you weren’t my wife when I quit,” he points out.

“When did you quit?”

“A month ago.”

I almost choke. He’s been keeping this from me for an entire month? What the hell? This just keeps getting worse and worse.

“I’m starting my own law practice, Charlotte,” Clark says. “You know that’s always been my dream. I’ve always wanted to be my own boss. I hate having to wear a tie and always groveling to some asshole.”

“So you’re not even going to try to join another practice?”

“What did I just tell you, Charlotte?” Clark’s voice has taken on an impatient edge. Like I’m stupid for even asking. “I hated that job. Quitting was the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”

“So what’s your plan exactly?”

“Well,” Clark says thoughtfully. “I was going to rent myself a little office, and then start advertising online for clients. There are plenty of lawyers who work independently. I don’t need a big firm to be successful—if anything, they were holding me back.”

I’ve heard him mumble about not loving his job, but this is all news to me. Then again, we’ve only been together for eight months. Which suddenly doesn’t feel like nearly long enough.

“Did you rent an office yet?” I ask.

“Not yet.” He raises his hands defensively. “Look, I needed a break. I’ve got a list of places I’m checking out.”

“And do you have any clients?”

Clark frowns. “I can’t get clients if I don’t have an office yet.”

Yes, exactly.

“You should have told me,” I say, attempting to keep my anger in check.

“It didn’t concern you though,” Clark says. “I would’ve done it whether or not I was with you.”

“You would have?” I shoot back. “You really would’ve quit if you didn’t have my income and savings to support us? What money would you have used to rent the office?”

Clark winces. I hate myself for saying that, but it’s true. Even when he was working, I earned more money than he did. And I happen to have noticed that Clark loves my spacious Central Park-adjacent apartment and definitely appreciates the finer things in life.

Also, even though he’s secretive about his finances, I get the feeling he doesn’t have much in the way of savings. He’s not exactly financially savvy. I really don’t believe he would’ve quit if he didn’t have me. I don’t know if he could have quit if he didn’t have me.

“That’s a low blow, Charlotte,” Clark says quietly. “You don’t have to rub it in my face that you have more money than I do.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have if you didn’t lie to me,” I counter.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to lie to you if you weren’t such a bitch all the time!”

What did he just say to me?