The miracles gave me hope. Enough hope to hang on to Graham just enough in case we ever got a miracle of our own. Maybe that miracle would have fixed us. Put a Band-Aid on our broken marriage.
I want to hate him for kissing someone else. But I can’t, because part of me doesn’t blame him. I’ve been giving him every excuse in the world to walk out on me. We haven’t had sex in a while, but I know that’s not why he strayed outside of our marriage. Graham would go a lifetime without sex if I needed him to.
The reason he allowed himself to fuck up is because he gave up on us.
Back when I was in college, I was assigned to do an article on a couple who had been married for sixty years. They were both in their eighties. When I showed up to the interview, I was shocked at how in tune they were with each other. I assumed, after living with someone for sixty years, you’d be sick of them. But they looked at each other like they still somehow respected and admired each other, even after all they’d been through.
I asked them a number of questions during the interview, but the question I ended the interview with left such an impact on me. I asked, “What’s the secret to such a perfect marriage?”
The old man leaned forward and looked at me very seriously. “Our marriage hasn’t been perfect. No marriage is perfect. There were times when she gave up on us. There were even more times when I gave up on us. The secret to our longevity is that we never gave up at the same time.”
I’ll never forget the honesty in that man’s answer.
And now I truly feel like I’m living that. I believe that’s why Graham did what he did. Because he finally gave up on us. He’s not a superhero. He’s human. There isn’t a person in this world who could put up with being shut out for as long as Graham has put up with it. He has been our strength in the past and I’ve continually been our weakest link. But now the tables have turned and Graham was momentarily our weakest link.
The problem is—I feel like I’ve given up, too. I feel like we’ve both given up at the same time and there may be no turning back from that. I know I could fix it by forgiving him and telling him I’ll try harder, but part of me wonders if that’s the right choice.
Why fight for something that will likely never get better? How long can a couple cling to a past they both prefer in order to justify a present where neither of them is happy?
There is no doubt in my mind that Graham and I used to be perfect for each other. But just because we used to be perfect for each other doesn’t mean we’re perfect together now. We’re far from it.
I look at the clock, wishing it would magically fast forward through tomorrow. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be so much worse than today was. Because tomorrow I feel like we’ll be forced to make a decision.
We’ll have to decide if it’s finally time to open that wooden box.
The thought of it makes my stomach turn. A pain rips through me and I clench at my shirt as I lean forward. I am so heartbroken; I can actually physically feel it. But I don’t cry, because in this situation, my tears cause me even more pain.
I walk to our bedroom with dry eyes. It’s the longest stretch of time I’ve gone in the last twenty-four hours without crying. I push open our bedroom door, expecting Graham to be asleep. Instead, he’s sitting up against the headboard. His reading glasses are at the tip of his nose and he’s holding a book in his lap. His bedside lamp is on and we make eye contact for a brief second.
I crawl in bed beside him, my back turned to him. I think we’re both too broken tonight to even continue the argument. He continues reading his book and I do my best to try to fall asleep. My mind runs, though. Several minutes pass and just knowing he’s right next to me prevents me from relaxing. He must realize I’m still awake because I hear him as he closes his book and places it on the nightstand. “I quit my job today.”
I don’t say anything in response to his confession. I just stare at the wall.
“I know you think I left for work this morning and that I just left you here, locked up in this bedroom.”
He’s right. That’s exactly what I thought.
“But I only left the house because I needed to quit my job. I can’t work in the place where I made the worst mistake of my life. I’ll start looking for a new job next week.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pull the covers up to my chin. He turns out the lamp, indicating he doesn’t need a response from me. After he rolls over, I let out a quiet sigh, knowing he won’t be working around Andrea anymore. He stopped giving up. He’s trying again. He still believes there’s a possibility that our marriage will go back to how it used to be.