“You look nice today. Why am I in trouble for noticing?”
She covered her face with her hands and said, “What color of eye shadow am I wearing?”
Her nails were a red that matched the sweater and the lipstick. “You wore the extra eyeliner to make your eyes look bigger, and added mascara, which you almost never do, because your eyes are so fabulous you don’t need it. You told me once it was overkill for you. Eye shadow is something pink and purplish, with an edge of sparkly red, but it’s all blended together so maybe there’s a brown in there somewhere.”
She lowered her hands and stared at me, with her pink and purple eye shadow; yes, there was some brown in the crease of her eyes, and that sparkle of red like glitter almost. She’d worn makeup either for me or for her own courage, or she had a date later. The thought made my stomach clench tight, which sort of hurt with the demon scratches healing and all.
“I thought you’d stopped looking at me,” she said.
“You told me I was staring at you and it made you uncomfortable, so I stopped doing it.”
She stared at me as if she didn’t know what to say, which was a first in this quiet room with Dr. Martin watching us. She’d expected me to be wrong, to be just another stupid man who stares at women’s breasts and doesn’t look at their faces. But I’d never been that guy, because the first woman I had ever loved had taught me to notice her, and I’d never stopped noticing women not just sexually, but in all the ways She’d wanted to be noticed. How She made her hair that day, her eyes, her smile; she wanted to be worshipped and I had worshipped her. Women after Her had taught me that they didn’t want to be worshipped, or they weren’t worthy of it until Reggie. I thought she was The One. It wouldn’t be until after our son was born that I realized I was the romantic in our relationship, and Reggie was the practical one. Romance is hard after a baby; practical is easy, practical is necessary, romance not so much. I loved Connery more than I’d ever loved anyone except Reggie and the first woman in my life, but I missed the kind of couple we’d been before he was born. I was beginning to be afraid that we couldn’t be a couple and parents at the same time, and it scared me.
“You always noticed the physical stuff, I guess I forgot how much you pay attention. But did you hear what I said, were you listening to me?”
Her body was softer than when we’d met, which meant her hips filled out the skintight jeans really well, and with less muscle on her calves she could fit into a lot more tall boots. She was wearing one of my favorite pairs today. Had she done that on purpose, or had she not even remembered how much I loved to go down on her while she wrapped the boots around my shoulders? If she wore them because she remembered, I liked it; if she’d forgotten I didn’t want to know.
“Say something, Zaniel.”
I watched the irritation fill her eyes and knew the anger wasn’t far behind. “No, I didn’t hear what you just said, Reggie.”
I had tried to look at her as little as possible during the sessions for a while. If she was never going to be mine again, then I wanted to erase the memory of her body from my mind. I didn’t want to remember the strength of her the first few years, or the softer grace of her when she had to quit her job as a fitness instructor to teach high school full-time, because she’d finished her degree. She’d taught women’s strength and fitness as her job to help pay for college. Our second date had been working out at her gym. I’d been able to keep up with her, and she’d been able to keep up with me, and some things she was better at, and some things I’d been better at, and that had pleased us both.
I didn’t want to remember how the baby weight had made her breasts fuller, and her hips a little wider, so that it was like making love to a third her. I’d loved all of her, whatever weight or size; I looked at her sitting just on the other end of the couch, two feet from me, and for the first time I didn’t think just about Reggie. I thought about Kate’s face, the feel of her hand on mine, the strength of her, the pain in her. I thought about Hazel Prescott’s bravery and competence. Was it unfair to compare their bravery in crisis to Reggie sitting there, arms crossed under the fullness of her breasts, a pout on her face and the anger turning her brown eyes black? I’d thought the pout was cute once. The temper had never been charming.
“What’s wrong with you today, Zaniel?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I asked, didn’t I?” She crossed her legs, one knee beginning to jiggle. It was one of her signs that she was really pissed, and for once I didn’t seem to care. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Fine, I had to leave a crime scene . . .”
“Oh, your job is more important than saving our marriage, is that it?” And just like that we were back to old arguments like the tracks on a roller coaster where the cars can’t get off the ride and just keep going round and round.
“You didn’t even let me answer the question,” I said.
“You answered, you’re all about the job.”
“Actually, Reggie, you didn’t let him answer you. Go ahead, Zaniel, finish your thought,” Dr. Martin said.
“It isn’t leaving work to come here that’s making it hard for me to concentrate, Reggie. It’s the kind of crime scene I had to leave to . . . experience. It was sort of awful and people got hurt, and now I’m supposed to sit here and talk about our marriage.”
“Because the people who got hurt are more important to you than our marriage,” she said, as if I’d made her point for her.
I was suddenly angry, and I let myself be angry at her for once. “I didn’t save everyone today, Reggie. A young woman who begged me to save her is getting a rape kit done at the hospital, because I couldn’t get to her in time. I couldn’t save her from that.” The anger in her eyes softened, and it wasn’t enough. “Did you notice the bandages on me, or did you just not care that I got hurt today?”
“You could do other jobs, Zaniel.”
I shook my head and held my hands up. “So instead of asking me how hurt I am, or what happened, you go straight to the fact that you hate me being a cop, and why can’t I go sell insurance for your brother, or maybe go to college, as if that will guarantee me a better job.”
“Do you want Reggie to ask about your injuries?” Dr. Martin asked.
“I think I need to know that she cares that I got hurt.”
“Do you care about that, Reggie?” the doctor asked, and looked at my wife.
“Of course I do.” She sounded more angry than concerned.
“Then ask Zaniel about his day. How he got hurt.”
“He didn’t ask me about mine.”
I stood up and looked down at her. “If you had come in here with your arm wrapped up in a medical dressing, I’d have asked you what happened.”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked at my stomach. “Are those more bandages under your shirt?” She reached out toward me; it was the first time she’d reached for me in months. I thought about stepping out of reach, but I thought about it too long and her fingers found the rips in my shirt and the bandages underneath. When she pushed her fingers through the rips and brushed some bare skin between bandages I had to step back or shudder from just that light touch. My body reacted to her being that close, and I hoped she didn’t notice. I didn’t want her to know that her fingers barely brushing my stomach had that much effect on me. Heaven help me, I still wanted her, but I wasn’t sure about being in love anymore, and that helped more than a cold shower.