Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

London was already out the front door as soon as my wife stepped out of the SUV and I watched Vivian scoop her up and give her a kiss. She kissed me as well and asked if I could bring the bags inside. Figuring it was groceries, I opened the back hatch after Vivian and London had vanished inside and saw a mountain of bags from Neiman Marcus and half a dozen shoe boxes with Italian names.

No wonder she hadn’t called or answered. Vivian had been busy .

Like the week before, it took multiple trips to unload all the items she’d purchased and by the time I finished, Vivian was sitting beside London on the couch, London leaning into her.

Vivian smiled at me before mouthing that she wanted a few more minutes with London. I nodded, reminding myself again not to show the slightest hint of irritation. In the kitchen, I poured two glasses of wine and brought one of them to Vivian before returning to the back porch where I fired up the grill. Knowing it would take a few minutes to heat up, I went back inside and sipped at the wine while taking stock of the dining room table where I’d heaped her things. In time, Vivian kissed London on her head then slid away. She beckoned me to meet her near the goodies. She leaned in for a quick kiss as I approached.

“London said she had a fun day with you.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “I’m guessing you had a pretty full day, too.”

“I did. After I finished with my research, I raced from one store to the next. By the end, all I really wanted to do was come home and relax.”

“Are you hungry? I picked you up some fresh tuna and I’ve already got the grill going.”

“Really? Tonight?”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve already eaten.” Vivian must have seen my expression and her tone acquired an edge of defensiveness. “I didn’t know you were planning to make dinner tonight. All I knew was that I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, and I was so hungry that my hands began to shake. I ended up stopping at a café on the way out of the mall. You should have let me know and I would have just grabbed a snack.”

“I called and texted, but you never responded.”

“My phone was in my purse and I didn’t hear it. I didn’t see your texts or that you’d called until I was almost home.”

“You could have called me.”

“I just told you that I was rushing around all day.”

“To the point you couldn’t even check your phone?”

“Don’t make it sound like I was trying to ruin your night on purpose,” she said with a sigh. “You can still grill the steak. I’m sure London is hungry.”

“She already ate,” I said, thinking that what I really wanted was for my wife to have missed talking to me as much as I’d missed talking to her.

“Oh,” she said. “Do you want to see what I bought?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said.

“Would you mind getting me another half a glass of wine first? I want to organize my things before I show you.”

I nodded, wandering back to the kitchen in a daze, still trying to sort through what had just happened. She had to assume we’d have dinner, so why had she stopped to eat? And why hadn’t she checked her phone? How was it that my wife could feel no need to check in on her family? I refilled her glass, returning to the dining room wanting to ask more questions, but by then, Vivian had various outfits either spread on the table or draped over the back of the chairs.

“Thanks, hon,” she said, reaching for the glass. She kissed me again and set her glass aside without taking a sip. “I bought a navy blue suit, too. It’s gorgeous, but it was a little big in the hips, so I’m having it altered,” she began, then proceeded to present one outfit after another. As she did, I caught sight of one of the receipts from the bags and felt my heart skip a beat. The total, on that one receipt, was more than half the mortgage.

“Are you okay?” she asked when she was finished. “You seem like you’re upset.”

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t call me.”

“I already told you. I was busy.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “It’s not like you called and texted every minute when you were at work either.”

“You were shopping.”

“For work ,” she said, the anger in her voice now plain. “Do you think I wanted to stay up half the night and then race around all afternoon? But you didn’t give me much of a choice, did you? I have to work because you quit your job. And don’t pretend I didn’t see you inspecting those receipts, so before you get on that high horse again, maybe you should remind yourself that your little adventure has cost a lot more than I spent today, so maybe you should look in the mirror.”

“Vivian…”

“You need to stop acting like I’m the bad guy. You’re not exactly perfect.”

“I never said I was.”

“Then stop finding fault with everything I do.”

“I’m not…”

By then, however, she’d already left the dining room.

For the next half hour, we avoided each other. Or rather, she avoided me. She’d always been better at it than I was. I know because I kept peeking at her, hoping to detect a thaw in her mood, and found myself wondering why we couldn’t seem to discuss anything that bothered me without it turning into an argument.

I grilled the tuna and the steak, hoping she’d at least taste the food, and set the table on the back porch. After bringing the food over, I called for Vivian, only to see her emerge with London in tow.

I put small portions on both their plates and though both Vivian and London took a few bites, my wife’s silent treatment continued. If there was one positive from the meal, it was that London didn’t seem to notice, since she and her mom chatted as though I wasn’t there at all.

By the time we finished dinner, I was as annoyed with Vivian as she was with me. I went to the den and fired up my computer, thinking I’d continue working on my presentations, but it turned out to be a pointless exercise, since I continued to replay all that had happened.

I couldn’t escape a gnawing sense of failure. Somehow, I’d blown it again, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what it was I’d done so wrong. By then, Vivian had already begun the process of getting London ready for bed and I heard her as she descended the steps.

“She’s ready for a story,” she said. “Not a long one, though. She’s already yawning.”

“All right,” I said, and in her expression, I thought I saw the same kind of remorse that I was feeling about the evening. “Hey,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry about the way tonight turned out.”

She shrugged. “It’s been a stressful week for both of us.”

I read to London and kissed her goodnight; when I found Vivian in the family room, she was already in her pajamas, a magazine open in her lap, and the television turned to some reality show.

“Hey,” she said, as soon as I sat beside her, seemingly more interested in the magazine than me. “I had to change out of my clothes into something comfy. I’m wiped out. I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last before turning in.”

I understood what she hadn’t specifically verbalized: The idea that the two of us might make love later was out of the question.

“I’m tired, too.”

“I can’t believe she’ll be starting school next month. It doesn’t seem possible.”

“I still don’t know why they start so early,” I said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Didn’t we always start school after Labor Day when we were in school? I mean, why August twenty-fifth?”