THE RAIN FALLS GENTLY outside but, inside, a hurricane is sweeping the room.
I watch my wife march back and forth. On one of her trips, she tosses a towel at my head. It whacks me in the eye and makes me yelp.
She doesn’t apologize.
Not that I really expect her to.
On another one of those trips from the back room to the front, she tosses a polo with the words ‘McClane Confectionaries’ blazing across it. This time, it smacks my chest rather than my face.
Harriet’s fuming but, even in her anger, she’s still taking care of me. I’m encouraged by that. There’s room to fix this and all it required was losing a bit of my dignity. Standing in the rain while customers pointed cameras and giggled at me is a small price to pay for an audience with my wife.
Harriet returns to the room with a blanket. She glides close to me. Close enough that I can reach out and touch the limp strands of hair clinging to her cheek. A spicy fragrance emanates from her skin. Is that cinnamon?
My fingers twitch, begging to run over her body. Before I can crush the impulse, Harriet smothers me with a giant blanket that she throws over my head.
The world goes dark until I can shove the fabric away. “Nice.” “I know.”
Amusement mixes with annoyance. I’m not angry at her roughness, even if-I’m sure-that is her intention. She wants me to lose my temper. To start another fight. Because if I show her my bad side, she can push me away and feel justified for it.
But I’ve got a coach in my corner.
And I won’t let Harriet squirm out of my grip.
Doc said to focus on what my wife says from her heart rather than what she says from her mouth. ‘Womanese’ he calls it. To me, it’s just paying attention.
“Did Doc tell you to do something that lame?” She falls into a chair across the table and folds her legs in front of her.
Lightning flashes in the sky, brushing silver against her slim jaw and plump brown lips. Harriet changed out of her polo and into a tank top that reveals creamy shoulders and the delicate slope of her neck.
The tension pulls tight as we stare at each other. I lean forward and note the way her eyes stray to my forearms before darting back to my face.
“Doc told me to go back to dating.” The mechanic might get creative with his analogies, but his principles never really change. It always boils down to the same advice.
“And you thought that meant recreating a scene from a romantic comedy and humiliating yourself in front of my customers?”
I wince. “I wouldn’t call it humiliating myself.” She almost smiles. Almost.
“I did more embarrassing things when I was trying to get you to date me.”
Her eyes dart to the side and I imagine she’s thinking of all the crap I pulled when I was desperately after her affections.
“Admit it,” I whisper.
“I’ll concede that point.” Her lips tremble. Then stretch. A smile.
Stunning.
I barely notice the thunder outside. “Harriet,” I call softly.
“What?” Her tone is gentle. So are the brown eyes that fall into mine.
“I covered for Patrick, but it was just a favor for a friend. Nothing more and nothing less,” I state. Because I do know. I just don’t understand why she reacted so violently to it.
“It’s more than that.” She leans forward. “You covered for him because of the way you still think.”
Lightning flashes. Searing white in golden shadows. I see it then.
The truth.
She doesn’t trust me. Even after I broke up with Ashley. Even after I came clean about what I’d done in the past. Even after pouring every second of every day into pursuing her.
I would have been disappointed if I didn’t know Doc.
You’re an athlete that’s out of shape.
My chest expands because, now that I know where the car is leaking from, I can work on fixing it. This time, I can answer the right way because I’ll have an answer for her heart.
“Patrick and I have been best friends for years and I’ve always had his back.” My tongue darts out to wet my lips. “I didn’t realize what I was doing by encouraging him.”
She clams up, her eyes on the ceiling.
Tugging out my phone, I dial Patrick and put him on speaker. Harriet’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
“Sh.” I put a finger to my lips as the call connects.
Patrick’s voice fills the room, loud and cheerful. “J, what’s up?” “I need to talk to you about something real quick.”
“Go on.”
“Last week, I told you I’d cover for you…”
“Yeah, man! I appreciate that!” He’s shouting so loudly it strains the cell phone speakers. “You know my wife is always tripping-”
“That won’t ever happen again,” I cut him off when I see Harriet stiffening.
Patrick goes dead-silent.
“We’re going about this the wrong way, Pat. I know you’re my best friend and I know we have our secrets, but I stopped playing that game for weeks now and I won’t continue that game with you.”
“Man, why you sound so serious?” Patrick chuckles nervously. “Did Harriet put you up to this?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Whatever, man. Do what you want.” “Later.” I hang up.
Harriet is staring at the table. Her lips have disappeared and her fingers are digging into her shirt.
“I’ve said it,” I whisper to the thick silence, “but I don’t think I’ve done enough to show you that you are the most important person to me. I’m not
going to do things you don’t like. I won’t do anything that’ll tear down what we’re trying to rebuild.”
Harriet blinks rapidly, eyes as hazy as the windows slick with raindrops. My heart nearly leaves my chest. “Baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” She sniffs, in direct defiance to her statement.
I leave the chair across the table and sit beside her. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to be the kind of woman who’s always looking over her husband’s shoulder. I don’t want to be controlling or…” Her fingers tighten in her lap. “Why did you do this to us, Jerrison?”
It’s the first time she’s asked. The first time she’s willingly approached this dark trench since she moved out. Weeks ago, she told me that I hurt her. I answered that. We’ve been over that. But this time, she’s asking me why.
My palms get sweaty. I drop them on my jeans and wipe. “Harriet…” Words fly through my mind. Excuses. Explanations. Trite justifications that’ll put the blame on her, so I don’t have to hold any responsibility.
“Sometimes, I lie in bed and I torture myself with thoughts of what you did with those other women. How you spent time with them. How you dated them.”
My heart lurches.
“Why, Jerrison? I wasn’t good enough? Did I… drive you away? Why did you have to find someone else?”
I reach for her hand. Hold it tightly in mine. The warmth of it is familiar. So is the clash of her dark skin against my pale complexion.
My thumb falls against her knuckles and I search for the right words. Not the excuses. Not the blame that sits right in the pocket of my selfishness. I fish past it for the understanding that I’ve learned since setting foot in Doc’s garage.
The wife is the mirror. Whatever she is showing you is what you are giving her.
“I could sit here and pin it all on you, but that wouldn’t be fair or true, Harriet.” I place a thumb under her chin and lift her head. “Working with Doc, I’ve learned a lot and I can look back and see things clearly.”
“What do you see?” She’s not crying. I can tell she’s holding it in with all her might.
“I saw that my neglecting you, treating you poorly and being irresponsible with you caused you to become bitter. But rather than paying
attention to what I’d broken in you, in us, I got fed up with the anger you gave me.” My eyes hit the table. “I got bitter with the you I’d created.”
“So if I hadn’t been bitter…”
“No.” I shake my head. Confess to the truth that burns me. “Even if you were perfect, I would have…” I stumble over the words. They clog my throat. Refuse to hit the air. Somehow, saying it to her face in this delicate state feels ill-advised. I shake my head. “I was following my own path. It was lust. It was greed. I wanted to satisfy that selfishness by any means.”
A tear falls down her cheek.
I don’t feel worthy to touch her, but I can’t stand seeing her in pain. Softly swiping the pad of my thumb against her skin, I capture the teardrop. “Harriet, what I didn’t realize was that I created the problem. I used to blame you rather than blame myself. I’m working on that.”
She stares at me with eyes fighting to believe. Fighting to trust when my track record has proven that putting any faith in me would be futile.
“I won’t ask you to give me what I haven’t earned. Trust. Forgiveness. I know better than to demand that.” I squeeze her hand. “But you’ve given me an opportunity to show you how much you mean to me, Harriet, and I don’t want to lose that. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
The smile she offers me is more stunning than the sunshine. It’s cold and gloomy outside, but it feels like a balmy, spring day next to my wife.
My hands tighten around hers. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to be greedy and ask for one more thing.”
Her eyebrows crinkle.
I lean forward and whisper, “Will you be my girlfriend?”
Her husky laugh does something to me. It’s familiar and new in a way that I want to explore further.
Harriet pushes me back and gives me a sassy smirk. “I’ll think about it.”