Lying Next to Me

by Gregg Olsen

I want to remind her that she could help matters. Pouring me drinks and then later complaining about my alcohol consumption isn’t fair.

She’d keep her focus on the road because to make eye contact with Frank meant that he’d have cause to shut her down with some kind of verbal punch in the face.

MJB!

I wonder if sometimes I mistake quietness for kindness. Silence for caring. When it gets right down to it, no one ever really knows what other people are thinking.

The truth is far more complicated than that. I love my wife. I hate her too. I loved the idea of us. But—and this is hard to admit to myself—that was a while ago. Before Aubrey. After she was born, our life pivoted away from us to become something else. I’d become a father. Sophie, a mother. I learned that mother is more than father. Mother trumps everything. Father is a role. Father is biology. Mother is sacred. Motherhood consumes every bit of a marriage. Every last crumb.

Our marriage is quietly rocky. Silently in shambles. I love her without a scintilla of doubt. But Sophie? I don’t know how she really feels about me. If she loved me at all, she’d have never done what she did.

In court or in life, the element of surprise can only be used to great effect once.

Except when it comes to this. When it comes to this, I find that I cannot do anything but keep trying—trying until there is no hope.