Us against the storm

“It’s gloomy out there.” He says and I glance up from my book for a moment to meet his eyes and then look out at the lightning and rain just outside our large living room window. The curtains are drawn back, and the glass is the only thing separating us from it. The thunder is booming loudly between the silence that is here between us. Once a few years ago we might have run out in that rain and danced around, laughing about how silly we were being, but now I glance at the storm and look back down at my book.

“hmm.. yea it is.” I reply quietly. He shuffles a bit on the sofa next to me and sinks back into it while opening his paper loudly. I take a deep breath and avoid making a sideways glance in his direction. I loved him for most of my adult life but now as we age, and we sit in this silence, I can’t help but feel a bit of animosity towards him. I feel as if my dreams were always put on hold for us to be able to move forward. As if my feelings were always needing to be shoved aside to appease him and his ego. Now that he wants to try and be a better man, for the sake of our family, I just can’t seem to be able to forgive him. He never quite did anything wrong, he never cheated, he never hid things, but he also never really cared much about my emotional needs. I take another long breath as he flips a page and shakes the paper as if the words must be jerked into place. I put the marker in my book since I can’t seem to concentrate and hold it closed on my curled-up legs as I stare out the window at the gray sky. It’s midafternoon and still bright enough to not need the lights on but the murky hue seems to create a somber atmosphere.  

I wonder if he even knows how unhappy I have become. I think as I watch the rain pitter patter on the window.

“Do you think it will rain all day?” I ask hoping that he will strike up a more meaningful conversation than us talking about the weather, again.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He grunts under his breath. He always seems so nonchalant at being here with me. The passion we once felt faded over the years. Knowing this feeds into my resentment and throws me into the thoughts I have tried to avoid when I am near him. Maybe… Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t have settled, and I should have waited to find a man who actually wants to be married to me. Maybe he shouldn’t have settled with me. I think as I stare mindlessly out the window. It’s not like I don’t know he had some great love before me. He still cries when he dreams about her, her name escaping his lips only when he’s overindulged at the bar with his friends or when he’s dreaming deeply as he lies in the bed next to me. Why be with me when he wanted to be with her? Ugh. It makes me sick to my stomach. I looked her up once and she isn’t even as pretty me. She was plain. A weird version of me. That made me even more sick. I had to start doing my hair differently because I didn’t want him thinking of her when he was with me.

I’m projecting and I need to stop. She is her own person and so am I. I need to stop comparing myself to her. It’s not fair for me to be mean and cruel to someone I don’t even know. It’s not fair to compare myself to someone else. Another deep breath and I let my thoughts drift away to bring me back to reality. The truth is I also loved someone before my husband, and it didn’t work out because of so many reasons. Maybe it was the same for them. Maybe he does love me somewhere in there. He just has a funny way of showing it. He is the kind of man who wants to make sure we have a nice home and nice things but he’s not the type who enjoys spending time together on dates or going to new places or having a meaningful conversation that has depth, at least not with me. He shows love in things not in emotions. Our love language is just as crazy as this storm. If you were to look to the east, you’d see the sun and not even notice the rain but just slightly to the west you see the dark clouds, the lightning that glows in the gray sky, and the rain that is falling hard onto the windows and ground. I put my book down next to me on the sofa realizing that I was holding on to it too tightly. Decidedly I stand and look at my husband who has not yet looked up from his paper, his long lashes are hidden behind his circular gold rimmed glasses. I smile softly as I brush the hair out of his eyes. He looks up at me confused and curiosity sparks in his eyes. I reach my hand out to offer it to him and he squints and places his paper down on the table as he reaches for my hand. I smile sheepishly and turn to race towards the back door throwing it open as I run out into the rain. Somewhere in between the door and the grass beneath my feet he let go of my hand. I spin and close my eyes as I let the water surround me. When I finally open my eyes, I see that he’s leaning in the doorway, arms folded, a smile plastered on his face.

“What?” I scream with a giggle and a smile. He shakes his head and runs out to grab me and spins me around.

“You’re crazy you know that?” he says with a laugh that caught in between his words.

“We both are.” I say pulling him in to kiss me. For now, in this moment, with the storm raging around us, all is forgiven.