Jennifer Close - The Hopefuls

“You can’t just make these decisions without me,” Jimmy said, and I realized that Ash had never told him she wasn’t planning to take Viv, that he hadn’t known until Beverly showed up at the house.

“I can’t make these decisions without you? Why not? I do everything else without you. Do you know how hard it is to care for a baby out of a hotel room? No, you don’t, because I do it all.”

“You’re her mother,” Jimmy said. “Isn’t that your job?”

Ash turned then and walked up the stairs and Beverly followed quickly behind. Jimmy still hadn’t acknowledged us — honestly, it was like he didn’t see us — and he stood there, shaking his head. Finally, he said softly, “Jesus fucking Christ,” and went up the stairs after them.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen, the way that Jimmy talked to Ash in front of Beverly. I was also shocked that Ash hadn’t told Jimmy about her plans to leave Viv at home. While I knew the two of them weren’t exactly communicating in a great way these days, there was no chance it was an accident. She must’ve known he’d argue, that it would be easier to wait until the last second to deal with it.

We were still standing in the doorway, our bags at our feet, and Matt was looking down at his BlackBerry. I knew he was purposely not meeting my eyes, that he could feel me staring at him but was pretending he didn’t notice, and I felt anger rise in my throat. “Matt,” I said, sharply.

“What?” he asked, giving me a blank expression. It might have seemed like it wasn’t such a big deal, Matt’s refusal to look at me, but it was. We used to be a couple who could have whole conversations without speaking — just one look could’ve conveyed how we both felt about witnessing this fight, how uncomfortable it would make our trip. And now Matt was ignoring me, finding one more way to shut me out.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, placing my bag by the door and walking out of the room.

“What?” he said, having the gall to sound surprised. “What did I do?”

—

By the time the four of us got in the car, no one was talking. I never got the full story of how the Viv situation was resolved, but Beverly left with her and we resumed getting ready for the trip. Jimmy loaded our bags as the rest of us did last-minute things, grabbed bottles of water and phone chargers, went to the bathroom one more time.

As we pulled out of the driveway, everyone was silent. Jimmy was driving, Matt sat shotgun, and Ash and I were in the second row. I wished that Viv were there, just so I’d have a reason to sit in the way back, to be as far away from everyone as possible. Ash wasn’t mad at me — or at least I didn’t think she was — but both of us were ignoring each other; she was looking at her phone and I stared out the window, imagining what would happen if I just jumped out of the car and ran back to the house. Would they even try to stop me? Would anyone be surprised?

We pulled onto the expressway, and I closed my eyes and said a makeshift prayer, asking whoever was listening to please let us make it through this week unscathed; or at least, no worse off than we were now.

—

It was Jimmy who spoke first, about an hour into the drive, when he asked if anyone was hungry and wanted to stop at Chick-fil-A. “I could eat,” Matt said, and Ash and I echoed him. Jimmy pulled off the expressway and went right to the drive-thru window. Usually, we only ate in the car if we were trying to get somewhere quickly, but I guess he knew we weren’t interested in sitting around a table and staring at each other. Jimmy placed the order and pulled up to the pickup window. None of us spoke as we waited. Once we got our order, Matt took charge and handed everyone their food, parceling out fries and milk shakes and chicken sandwiches.

The lunch put everyone in a better mood, like we were cranky toddlers who needed to be fed. Things seemed more normal as we ate — Matt started to go over the schedule with Jimmy, telling him about the potluck we’d be at that night, reminding him who would be there. Ash turned to me and started showing me pictures from Facebook on her phone. Some girl she’d disliked in college had gotten married the weekend before, and Ash was busy judging the wedding. “Do you believe her dress?” she asked, flicking her finger across the screen to show me the pictures, acting like we hadn’t just been sitting in silence for the past two hours.

But this moment of peace didn’t last: At the potluck in Galveston that night, Ash fawned over a baby and said to the mother, “Mine’s at home and I miss her so much I could burst.” Jimmy stood to the side smiling and said, “Then you shouldn’t have left her there.” In Austin, I mentioned something about going to the Salt Lick for lunch one day, and Matt said irritably, “This isn’t a vacation,” to which I replied, “No kidding.”

All of the events went smoothly, despite the friction between us. There was a subdued air around Jimmy, and while he still smiled and laughed, he was quieter and a little more serious. When he shook people’s hands, he’d just say, “Don’t forget to vote,” not bothering anymore to talk about turning Texas blue.

—

Our last stop was San Antonio, and we arrived just a few hours before the event. Ash and Jimmy dropped us off at the hotel and went shopping to get Jimmy a new button-down, since over the course of our trip, he’d spilled barbecue sauce on one shirt and gotten mustard on another at a picnic. “Sweet Lord, Jimmy,” Ash said. “You’re worse than Viv.” You could tell she was trying to make a joke out of it, but it came out sounding unfriendly.

Matt went down to the lobby to work, because he couldn’t get a good Wi-Fi signal in our room. I was reading, but had the television on mute, which was something I’d started doing after spending so much time alone in hotel rooms. It made me feel less lonely. My brain felt cloudy from not sleeping well all week, and I kept getting to the end of a page only to realize that I had no idea what I’d just read. Finally, I gave up and turned the sound back up on the TV, watching a rerun of Friends that I’d seen a hundred times before.

When Matt returned about an hour later, he was carrying a sandwich and a large Coke. “Hey,” he said as he sat down at the little table in our room. I watched him in disbelief as he unwrapped his food and started to eat.

“You got lunch?” I asked. He turned to me while chewing, as if confused by such an obvious question, and nodded. And then I continued, “And you didn’t think to ask if I wanted anything?”

He swallowed, and a guilty look flashed across his face. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think about it.”

Maybe it’s ridiculous how much this upset me, considering all of the other fights we’d had, but immediately I felt tears come to my eyes. This situation perfectly summed up what was happening with me and Matt — how rarely he thought about me, how little I mattered.

“You didn’t think of it?” I asked. “You knew I was in the hotel room, knew that I hadn’t eaten lunch, and it didn’t even cross your mind to send me a text and see if I wanted anything?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can run and get you a sandwich. It’s right across the street.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“It’s just—” My voice caught here and I took a deep breath to keep from crying. “It’s like you don’t even think about me anymore. It’s thoughtless. It’s worse than if you did it on purpose.”

“Beth, come on. It’s not a big deal. It just slipped my mind. Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t.” I did start crying then, hard, and while Matt didn’t get up and try to comfort me, he did at least stop eating his sandwich.