The Things We Cannot Say

by Kelly Rimmer

“Alice, do you still love me?” There’s a moment of painful silence. We stare at each other—close enough almost to touch, despite the ocean of distance between us. “Eddie,” I say. That single word is rough with years of withheld emotion. Wade swallows and looks away, down to the gleaming white tiles on the floor. “Eddie changed everything.”

I kind of hope it’s also for you. A chance for you to drop some of the heaviness of our family life and for me to catch it, so you can pick up something else too. I’ve been doing some thinking since we talked the other night. Never for a second of our life together have you asked me to put my stuff second. Well, this week I want you to know what that feels like, so you can know that I do appreciate it. Maybe…we can figure all of this out and share the load of it better one day. I don’t know what that looks like, or how we do it, but I want to be a better husband for you. A better Dad…for…for Eddie.”