The Marriage Intervention

by Hilary Dartt

  “You look good,” she said.

  He snorted. “Shut up.”

  “No, really. Your muscles look really big in that shirt.”

  He shook his head. “This looks great.”

  “Look, Paul, there’s something I need to say.”

  “Oh, no. Is this the thing from last night? Is this another one of your talks?”

  Why do I feel like crying all the time lately?

  “No, Paul, it’s not a talk.” Josie heard her own voice break and hated herself for it. “I just feel like I need to apologize.”

  “For what?” he said, although she could practically hear him thinking, For all the times you’ve been a total bitch lately?

  She nodded, as if to answer his unspoken thought.

  “For everything,” she said. “For constantly bitching at you, for complaining about your work schedule, for working just as much as you do but not admitting it.” She let out a laugh. “For ruining our marriage, basically.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked gingerly over to the stove and picked up the ladle to taste the chili as he always did. Since he wasn’t speaking, she felt compelled to go on: “Last night, when those guys showed up at my door, I had a moment of clarity. Actually, I had this big speech planned already, but you being in the accident made it even more important that I tell you. I want to fix things. I want to start fresh. Can we do that?”

  Paul froze, holding the ladle just above the chili pot. Josie could hear the bubbling soup. She could smell the chipotle chili powder she’d put in, and she could see the setting sun shining in through the kitchen window, slanting onto Paul’s still form.

  “It brought me some clarity, too,” he finally said, ladling chili into his empty bowl.

  She waited while he sprinkled cheese and green onions, spooned on sour cream. Finally, he turned to face her, his bowl in one hand.

  “Did you get any beer?” he asked.

  She nodded to the fridge, where the Negro Modelo waited. The moments ticked by, painstakingly slow.

  Why isn’t he answering?

  While Josie dished up her own chili, she listened to Paul open the drawer, take out the bottle opener, open his beer and take the first sip. A few moments later, they sat at the kitchen counter, side by side.

  “So, what was your big moment of clarity all about?” Josie asked.

  “Can we eat first?”

  Josie nodded. Paul nodded, too, and crumbled his cornbread muffin into his chili. They ate. It took forever.

  “Good chili,” Paul said, more than once.

  “Thanks,” Josie said each time.

  He pushed his empty bowl away from him.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I’m going to move out.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  If she were watching the scene from the outside, or if she were a cockroach on the floor, Josie would have marveled at how it all unfolded exactly like a soap opera.

  Her spoon clattered to the countertop, leaving droplets of chili to harden there for days next to her bowl, which was still more than half full. Close-up on the spoon. She seemed momentarily paralyzed. Cut to Josie, frozen in place due to shock.

  Paul put his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands. Then he flinched, apparently having forgotten about all the bruising and the stitches.

  Neither of them spoke as the shadows in the house grew longer and then faded into the deep gray that precedes total darkness. Cue sad, romantic music that conveys regret.

  “Have you been thinking about this?” Josie said into the silence stretching between them like taffy. Wide view of counter.

  Paul nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for a few days. But the accident brought everything into focus.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Josie said.

  She felt Paul sigh beside her.

  “I didn’t know sooner,” he said. Zoom in on Paul’s face. “Lately, working so much, being away from home” (she noticed he didn’t say, “away from you,” but she knew that’s what he meant) “I’ve felt more, I don’t know, comfortable. At peace. You’re not breathing down my neck every second, waiting for me to mess up so you can call me on it. It’s been so peaceful.”

  Ouch. It took a moment to absorb the sting. Zoom in on Josie’s face.

  “You haven’t been lonely?” she asked, for lack of anything better to say.

  “Babe,” he said, “I started feeling lonely a long time ago. I’m past that. I feel almost relieved. And then last night, I was so glad to see you. So glad. But I also felt like we need to fix this or move on. You know? And the best way, for us to do that, I think, is to spend some time apart.” Close up on Josie’s reaction.

  When she put her forehead on the counter, he rubbed her back, long strokes up and down her spine. He must have felt her crying, because he scooted his stool closer to her and wrapped an arm around her. Wide angle.

  “I’m not saying it’s over,” he said. “I just think some time apart would be good for both of us. It would give you time to get over that skinny, big-toothed Scott Smith asshole,” here he chuckled, a little too heartily, in Josie’s opinion, “and it would give me time to think about my priorities.”

  “But I was apologizing,” she said (close up on Josie), hating the whine in her voice. “I want to make things better.”

  “I think the first step toward making things better is to give each other the space we need. So we can get back to appreciating each other.”

  All the time, Paul kept rubbing Josie’s back, which only made her more upset.

  “I’ll stay here tonight,” he said. He kissed her on the temple. Close up. “And pack my things tomorrow. Go on to bed, and I’ll clean up. Great chili, by the way.”

  Instead of answering, Josie went straight to bed without undressing, brushing her teeth or washing her face. Pan out while she exits.

  People always said things look better in the morning, but Josie sincerely doubted that would be the case. Unless, of course, she woke up and discovered this was a nightmare and in her real life, her husband wanted to spend every spare moment side by side with her.

  But as she drifted off feeling miserably sorry for herself, that practical little voice whispered: This is your real life, honey. You’d better suck it up.

  And … cut.

  ***

  Morning still came. For the first time in Josie’s life, laying awake all night did not slow the clock.

  Resentment crept in as she listened to Paul’s even, peaceful breathing. Why was he sleeping so well? Why hadn’t he been up all night, fretting over the impending failure of their marriage? It seemed so unfair. Her alarm went off, but she stayed in bed. What would Paul do for an alarm when he moved out? Where would he go? Who would he wake up next to? She heard his breathing change and looked over to see him touching his face, exploring the row of stitches and pressing lightly on the swelling on his left eye.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  Why was he so friendly now, on their last morning together?

  Yes, Josie had recently realized the many errors of her ways, but Paul wasn’t completely fault-free in this whole thing.

  “Good morning,” she answered. She could hear the pout in her own voice.

  “Babe, don’t do this,” he said, sitting up and turning toward her.

  “Don’t do what? Say good morning to you?”

  “You’re talking so grumpy.”

  “Of course I am. You’re moving out. With practically no warning. After you almost died. I had this big moment of clarity, and you did, too, and they’re opposing. I’m upset. I just realized how much I’ve messed up, but obviously, your heart isn’t really in it.”

  On a loud sigh, Paul stood up. Even in this moment, Josie could appreciate his washboard abs and well-defined quads. She felt herself flush at the thought of an early morning romp. When was the last time we did that? She bit down on her lip and looked away.

  Instead of making a coy inv
itation, she said, “Remember that time we got drunk and went to the fair?”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “How could I forget? I ate so much that night between the corn dogs and the funnel cake I thought I was going to toss my cookies on one of our rides on the Ferris wheel.”

  “What about the time we went for a sledding trip without any sleds?” she said. She didn’t know if this was self-torture or just a conversation.

  “But we loved the Jacuzzi tub, right? That was a great night.”

  Suddenly, he was beside her on the bed again, holding one of her hands in both of his, staring into her eyes.

  “Josie, this isn’t the end of our marriage, okay? This is just some breathing space. That’s all this is.”

  A loud sob that sounded way more dramatic than Josie would have liked in this situation escaped her, and she turned away and got out of bed. Where was her dignity?

  “I don’t want breathing space. Breathing space always ends in divorce, don’t you know that?”

  Paul sighed again, and to Josie’s disappointment, stood up and began pulling clothes out of the dresser and stacking them on the bed.

  “Where are you going to stay, anyway?” she asked. She leaned against the wall that opened into the bathroom and crossed her arms.

  “Uh, well, I’m going to stay with Schmidt,” he said, looking down and scratching the back of his neck.

  “Terry Schmidt?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t look up. “Terry Schmidt.”

  “The lifelong bachelor Terry Schmidt?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Paul!” Josie threw her hands up and turned to walk into the bathroom and start the shower.

  “Stop yelling at me. He’s the only one I can stay with. McAdams’ wife just had a baby, Willis has about eight kids, crazy bastard, and Drew and his wife are trying to get pregnant. I guess they’re having sex, like, every other night or whatever, all over the damned house. He says it gets pretty monotonous so they have to spice things up by doing it, you know, on the kitchen counter or whatever. I ain’t eating off their counters. And those are the only guys I’d stay with.”

  Josie poked her head around the doorway and shook it.

  “Terry Schmidt’s going to have you converted to bachelorhood in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “He’s a nice guy. Did you know Terry Schmidt is the one who helped me pick out your engagement ring?”

  That stopped Josie’s ire in its tracks.

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “Did you know he’s the one who helped me pull off the way I gave it to you?”

  “Nope. Didn’t know that, either,” Josie said.

  “He’s a good guy, okay? He’s not against marriage or anything. He just hasn’t found the right woman. He’s actually got a really romantic heart.”

  Because she didn’t know what else to do, Josie rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom to shower.

  ***

  Paul’s actual proposal had been absolutely no-frills. About as far from romantic as a person could get. He didn’t even have a ring.

  Josie always thought it represented the way he loved her, though: straightforward and no nonsense. He didn’t need flowers and candlelight to set the scene to ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. He didn’t need accessories to prove his affection or his devotion.

  But he swept her off her feet when he gave her the ring.

  Because she was so in love with him—stupid in love with him—she never even thought about that little detail when he proposed, until someone asked. Then, she’d only shrugged and said, “I’ll be happy with a plain wedding band once we’re married.” And it was true. She was practical. She didn’t need him to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on a piece of jewelry. “Put that money towards a down payment for a new house,” she told him when he asked if she wanted a sparkler.

  Then one Friday afternoon shortly after the proposal, he picked her up from work in a rented Mustang convertible. He had her leave her car key in the office, and a friend of his—Terry Schmidt—delivered it back to the house.

  They arrived in San Diego six hours later, and checked into the Bayside Manor, a bed and breakfast that overlooked the ocean and had a private beach.

  Summer and Delaney helped him pack several outfits, including her favorite sundress. She wore it to dinner at Ray’s, a swanky steakhouse where they sat on the patio and soaked up the warm, brilliant sunset.

  They sipped cold white wine until long after dark, and then went back to the hotel and passed out side by side on the huge four-poster bed, still in their clothes.

  The next day, they ordered room service for breakfast, and then Paul took Josie to Clam Shell Cove, an amusement park on the beach. He seemed a little jumpy throughout the morning, but she assumed it was the typical hyperawareness most cops experience in crowded public places.

  Just before lunch, though, Paul pointed to the Sky Ride, which took people from one end of the park to the other in colorful cars suspended on cables fifty feet above the ground.

  They sat across from each other in the hanging car, and Paul smiled at Josie as the ride attendant latched the door. She smiled back, looking so forward to the spectacular sky-high ocean view that she didn’t notice the gleam in his eyes. With the salty breeze blowing Josie’s hair back from her face and the sun shining high in the sky, Paul pulled a red velvet pouch from his shirt pocket.

  Josie didn’t even have time to wonder what was in it before Paul dropped the ring into his hand and held it out on his palm. The round cut diamond and the sapphires surrounding it sparkled in the sunlight, winking on his palm like planets in the nighttime sky.

  Josie’s breath caught.

  I’m so not a romantic, but I so love this man.

  When she didn’t speak, Paul laughed. “For once, I’ve made Josie Garcia speechless. Put it on.”

  “You put it on me,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He laughed again and slipped it onto her finger. She held up her hand, admiring the ring from different angles, watching it shine and sparkle in the sunlight.

  “Like it?”

  She nodded, then put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him in for a long kiss.

  “I know you said you didn’t need an engagement ring, but I wanted you to have one. It’s a symbol of how I feel about you, like you’re my sun, the center of my universe. You’re the diamond to my sapphires. I want to be near you, surrounding you, all the time.”

  As the beach sailed by underneath them and the cool ocean air swirled around them, they kissed again.

  This is what it’s all about. This moment right here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Wow, Josie, you’re here first,” Benjamin tipped his hat at her as she slid onto her stool at the usual table at Rowdy’s. “One of each?”

  When he sauntered off to fetch the drinks, she realized she was holding onto another secret. She tried to think of how to avoid talking to the girls about her marriage all together. Not that she didn’t want to tell them Paul moved out. She simply wasn’t ready to tell them just yet. They’d be so disappointed that their Marriage Intervention hadn’t worked. By not telling them, she was actually protecting their feelings. This wasn’t about her. Benjamin returned with a water and a bowl of green olives for Summer and a Guinness for Delaney. He set Josie’s vodka cranberry on the table in front of her, and when she downed it in one gulp he held up two fingers and raised his eyebrows. She nodded, and he returned a few seconds later with number two.

  Summer came in next, but she was on the phone and didn’t even make eye contact with Josie when she sat down. She was speaking pretty quietly and Josie sensed this wasn’t the conversation on which to eavesdrop. To give Summer some privacy, she took a bathroom break. As she walked through the bar on her way back to the table, she noticed that Summer’s pregnancy was starting to show. Not just the tiny bump where you weren’t sure whether she was pregnant or just slightly overweight
, but the mini-watermelon shaped bulge that left no question a baby was growing in there.

  Josie smiled to herself, but felt the smile slide off her face when she saw the expression on Summer’s. She was pale, and she was biting her bottom lip, which was always a sign of worry. Josie quickened her pace, and was reaching for Summer’s arm when Delaney came through Rowdy’s front door, practically dancing.

  Summer and Josie had enough time to exchange a quick glance, during which Summer gave Josie a tiny “don’t worry about me” head shake. The moment passed quickly, swallowed up by Delaney’s excitement. She giggled maniacally, holding her left hand up, wiggling her fingers.

  “He did it! It happened! He proposed! I said yes! We’re getting married!”

  Josie noticed Summer take a deep breath and visibly shake off whatever was bothering her, and she followed suit. They stood up to hug Delaney, shouting congratulations and signaling for champagne.

  “So he says, ‘I know you saw the brochure in the junk drawer,’ and I just start laughing,” Delaney said, her eyes glowing with excitement. “And I say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’”

  “Then we’re both just laughing, and he takes my face in his hands and he says, ‘I love you, Delaney Collins.’”

  Delaney started to giggle-cry and Summer handed her a bar napkin.

  “Of course I said, ‘I love you, too, Jake Rhoades the Dreamy,’ and then we’re both laughing again.”

  “And then?” Josie prompted. “Did he get down on one knee or anything?”

  “No!” Delaney said. “Then he walked away! It was the strangest thing. He just left me standing there in the kitchen!”

  “So … did he actually propose, or not?” Summer wanted to know.

  Delaney laughed.

  “Not that day. I was flummoxed. Seriously. But he did today. Right before I came here. He showed up at Dr. Rick’s office, they’re friends, you know? And I think she’s known it was coming all day. She’s been grinning like the Cheshire Cat or the cat who ate the canary or whomever. Anyway, he’s waiting by the car when I come out, and he’s holding a bouquet of tiger lilies, just like he gave me after our first date. It was so cute, you guys. He looked almost sheepish. And he held out the ring, no box, no nothing, just the ring, and he said, ‘Delaney Collins, I’d be honored if you’d be my wife. Will you marry me?’”