The Nick of It

Jen slumped onto her couch into a puddle of exhaustion for the third time that week. Her husband came from somewhere behind her and set down a cup of tea for her on the side table. She had just returned from another sit down with City Councilwoman Jaqueline Frost. Ms. Frost had so little interest in Jen’s proposal that she wondered why her secretary even bothered to set up the meeting.

Jen had been trying to get more money for her school’s summer program. She had started it five years ago as a way to keep kids from the district out of trouble and still learning in the summers. It fed the kids twice a day, taught them about all sorts of career paths and different kinds of art and science, and it was her proudest accomplishment. Five weeks ago, her principle brought her into his office to give her the news. If the city council didn’t approve a minimum 20% increase for the education budget, they’d have to cut the program.

“More money?” Frost had asked, and had almost laughed out loud.

“I just need enough to keep the summer program open.”

“Do you know how much money that takes?”

Jen had clenched her teeth together so hard she thought her dentist might be able to feel it telepathically. “Yes, I do know how much money it takes. I founded the program five years ago.”

“Well then I’m sure you understand the politics involved in getting that kind of money.” The councilwoman sat calmly at her desk, with her hands neatly folded together in front of her. She flashed a toothy smile at Jen and Jen wanted to punch her teeth out.

“Jackie. Can I call you Jackie?” Jen asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Hmm.” Frost grimaced.

“Do you understand how dangerous some of these neighborhoods are? These kids need a safe space to learn and grow and eat a god damn meal in the summers and all I am asking you to do is vote on a budget increase for my school. I’m not asking you to take them into your house. I’m asking you to step into their shoes for five minutes and think about all the good that these summer programs do.” She was standing up at this point, and definitely yelling. “Our district’s high school graduation rate went up 15% last year, likely thanks to this summer program. How is that not a reward for the city? How is that not enough incentive for you to care about these students?”

“Ma’am,” Frost said, slowly, “I appreciate your drive to impact the community, but if you don’t calm down I’m going to have to call security.”

Jen couldn’t think of anything to do except ball her fists and say, “Thank you for your time,” and walk out the door.

“That bad, huh?” Nick asked, making room to sit down by pushing her legs to the footrest.

“It’s like these people don’t even care about kids! As long as they have their fancy blazers and fancy cars and fancy secretaries they couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the education of the future of the country!” Jen flailed her arms dramatically as she talked, letting them fall over her eyes when she was done.

Nick rested a hand on her leg. No doubt he was making that face he makes when she yells about something, the one where he presses his lips together and his eyes get all wide and he just stares at the carpet. He always makes that face when he doesn’t know what to say but knows better than to tell her to calm down.

“If it makes you feel better,” Nick started, but Jen interrupted him.

“It probably won’t,” she said, standing up. When she looked at him, he wasn’t making the face. He was looking right at her. She could feel the tiredness settling onto her shoulders like a weighted blanket.

“Jen, I know I haven’t seemed very supportive recently…”

“Seemed?” Jen asked, incredulous. “Seemed? You haven’t ‘seemed’ very supportive?” She began to pace around their living room, feeling the plush carpeting under her toes and waving her arms wildly. “Nick, you haven’t helped an inch this entire month! I have been writing letters and proposals and trying and failing to organize teachers and council members and you’ve been too busy ‘working’ to help me with any of it!”

“Jen, please,” he said, but she was already on a roll.

“You haven’t even come to a single city council meeting with me, not even just for moral support! Working nights and coming home, microwaving those disgusting frozen burritos at all hours of the night!”

“What?” he said. “They’re delicious!”

She stared at him with her hands on her hips, stance and eyes wide. She was breathing to loudly that she thought the neighbor’s might hear her.

Nick had all but outright refused to get on board with her campaign. Every time she asked him to come to a meeting or to help her proofread a letter, he would say that he was just too swamped with work. In fact, Jen thought, he had never used that as an excuse until she had decided to harass each and every city council member to vote for an increase in the education budget. He had been putting more hours in over the last few weeks than he had since he started the job. Jen took in one more deep breath.

“You don’t even have the decency to just let me rant without interruption?”

He stared at her, silent. She stared back, waiting for him to respond. They looked at each other like that for what felt like whole minutes.

Finally, Nick opened his mouth and said, “You’re right.”

Maybe it was her lack of sleep, maybe it was her frustration with the city council, maybe it was the overwhelming fear of letting her students roam the streets in a semi-dangerous area of town, but Nick’s response just made her more angry. Whatever Jen had wanted to hear from him, that wasn’t it.

“Of course I’m right!” she yelled, and she stomped off into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door had closed between them, she sank to the ground and started crying. She cried for her students and her school, but she cried mostly for herself. Jen and Nick had only been married for a few years, and the last few months had left her questioning if they were really right together. I mean, a corporate lackey and a middle school teacher? It wasn’t unheard of, but it certainly raised the question of compatible values.

Nick knocked on the door, startling her. She wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve and said, “What do you want?”

“Jen, please hear me out. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I hate that I made you feel like this.”

“Too little, too late, Nick.” She said quietly, not really intending for him to hear through the door.

She heard him sit down against the door, too. “I got a promotion at work.”

Hearing that threw Jen off. A promotion? Really? That’s what he wanted to tell her about right now?

“That’s great, Nick, but I’m really not in the mood to celebrate you right now.”

“No,” he said, and groaned. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, so you mean you didn’t get a promotion?”

“No, I did, but I’m telling you that because I want to help you.”

Jen laughed through her tears. “And how does that help? I’ve been asking you to help me for weeks, and now you want to help? Now that you’re probably going to have to spend even more time at work? Microwave even more of those gross burritos?”

“One of the company’s smaller branches had a PR incident recently, and the board wanted to do some damage control, so they opened up a non-profit wing.”

He waited for her to respond, but got only silence.

“And they put me in charge of it. . . And my first project is donating money to the schools so your summer program can stay open. Whatever you need.”

She sat there, stunned. She could feel the dried tears on her cheeks and her mouth hung open just a little.

“Jen?”

She stood up and opened the door and just stared at him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I thought it would be a nice surprise but I didn’t think about how the stress might—”

Jen wrapped her arms around him so quickly that they both almost fell over.

Nick kissed her forehead and said, “I love you, and I love what you do for the schools and for the community. This is the least I can do to stand by your side and help.”