course. I just wanted her to be someone else’s problem. I wanted to have different problems, like deciding what nightclub list to get on or which restaurant opening to go to, instead of googling what it meant when Tulip’s poop was runny. I got nervous then. I should’ve just talked to Javi. That would’ve been the sensible thing. I could’ve told him I was nervous, that I wanted more time for us, that I wasn’t sure I ever wanted it to be more than us. I heard some scratching at the back door then, and the handle jiggling, like a person with a numb hand was trying desperately to get in and failing. I opened the spare bedroom door. “Javi,” I called out. “Babe, do you hear that?” No answer. His cold shoulder was strong. I walked over and flipped on the light. I saw the outline of a dog through the blinds. She was back. Her tail wagged violently back and forth once she was inside. Her tongue hung out the side of her mouth dripping saliva on the floor, and she panted like she’d just run miles. Maybe she had. She beelined for her water bowl and then went straight for the bedroom, for Javi. She barely even acknowledged me. Even Tulip was upset with me. She sat on her hindlegs, panting and whining. I called for Javi again. “She’s back. She’s not dead,” I yelled. Still nothing. Fuck him, I thought. I knew he’d get over it. He always did. Besides, I wasn’t talented enough at
sabotage to actually ruin things. If I really wanted to upset him, I had to do something more destructive. Something bigger and more disruptive. If I wanted to live a different life, maybe I just had to start living it on my own, instead of pushing him in a different direction or expecting him to give me leeway. Tulip looked at me as I walked out of the front door. For the second time that night, I set out on a search mission, but this time for something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find. I looked across the street at Jessa, still on her porch nursing her drink. “Up for some company?” I called to her. She waved me over enthusiastically and patted the seat of the empty rocking chair next to hers. I eased down the driveway, ready for whatever the night had in store. “Where’s that yummy husband of yours?” she asked me once I had cold Pinot Grigio in my hands, in one of those lidded wine tumblers meant for suburban lushes. “He’s doing his own thing tonight,” I said. “My guy, too. Sometimes we need our own things, or else we’ll go crazy. We’ve been married almost ten years and that’s the secret, spending time apart. Who would’ve thought?” This should’ve been an ah-ha moment, but it depressed me. I was trying again to rebel, to sneak off and spend time away without telling him my whereabouts, cause I thought it’d piss him off. I thought he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of me having a separate life.
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But according to Jessa, I wasn’t spiting him, I was protecting us. “Does he ever get mad at you?” I asked her. “Oh honey, I’d be worried if he liked me all the time.” We laughed and sipped, and I relaxed. I always felt like what was happening between Javi and I was unique to us, like no other couple went through these moments of turbulence. But I wasn’t special, we weren’t special. These things happened to everyone. And everyone got over them. Javi would get over it. I would get over it. And we’d be okay. Until the next thing. *** I got back home, sufficiently drunk. The bedroom was still locked. I called out Javi’s name once, hoping that the night’s events were behind us. Tulip barked back in response. I knew he was awake then. There was no way he could sleep through her piercing yelp. Still, he didn’t open the door for me. I sat on the floor in the hallway, only meaning to wait there a few minutes, reasoning that he wouldn’t want to go to bed angry. That old marital wisdom was something we’d always honored. If he didn’t give in though, I’d just sleep on the couch or in the guest room, like a nineties sitcom husband. I tried my best to fight off sleep. But I would’ve needed a carjack to keep my eyelids open. I passed out there on the floor, resting my head against the wall, waiting to be let in.
