Waiting

The sun is brightly shining, beating down on my back as I sit on the outdoor patio of our favorite cafe just a few blocks from our house. Waiting. It seems to be the one thing that keeps the relationship together. Once more I glance at my watch and a sigh escapes my mouth. I’ve already dealt with the server once, requesting her to wait just a bit more before putting in my drink order. “He should be here any minute.” I know the words are hollow, even as I say them, and there is a bit of doubt not only in my tone, but my eyes also. Already I’ve begun to imagine the horrible scenarios he could actually be in, but this is just Brad. We are different, come from different backgrounds that nurtured this trait.

My husband, Brad, came from a broken home. He came from a family with loose punctuality and discipline standards. The only time Brad has ever been on time for anything was when he was enlisted in the Army. Even then, there were days he pushed it. Once he was medically retired, he was back to his old ways of running late. I, on the other hand, came from a tightly run household. I was taught that to be on time was to really be late. I was punished if I didn’t adhere to that mentality, a couple of times in my youth being left without a ride to figure it out. I learned anxiety along with self-reliance. Neither is better. They are just different, the things that make us who we are. However, his lateness is the one thing that bothers me the most out of his flaws.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but unless you put an order in, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We’re getting busy and need the table,” the server said, trying to be as kind as possible. 

I fought back the humiliation, the urge to burst into tears and scream at her all at the same time and nodded, glancing down at the drink menu in front of me. “I’ll just have an iced tea, please, with a lemon slice.” I knew I should order more than that, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Already I was back to imagining all of the horrible things that could have happened to Brad on his way here. Usually he at least texted if he was going to be late, but it had been silent for the past few days. I’m not sure why I really thought this would be the one thing that would change everything between us.

I was keenly aware of the server walking away, the sway of her hips the only amount of irritation visible on her. I knew I was holding up a table. I knew she doubted anyone was really supposed to be meeting me. I knew she doubted she would even get a tip worth the wait I had caused, but I just couldn’t leave. We needed to work through this, to have a chance to fully talk. I had been waiting far too long to have this conversation, trying to stifle the anxiety that rose every time I thought about asking for the changes I needed to live a happier life as a couple. I knew I hadn’t handled it right, exploding on him when he had left me waiting at an important corporate event for an hour. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be around right now, but avoiding it would only prolong the damage. Once again, I was ready and was left waiting.

It hadn’t always been like this. I can remember back to the first few years spent together. We were young, still trying to find our places in the world. He was still enlisted. I was still in college. Life seemed so simple back then. We were invincible, made more so by the fact we were together. Even with Brad deployed, there were no real burdens or obstacles. We Skyped when we could and spent the days he had on leave together in an endless loop of love. Together we were building a life together and it was something magnificent.

Yet, something changed. Something had become broken in the near ten years we had spent together. Brad wasn’t as considerate. I was more focused on my career. The little things had begun to add up and big decisions loomed overhead like our own personal rain cloud sent to ruin an otherwise gorgeous day. Once more we were waiting, but I no longer knew for what. This wasn’t something that could be solved by waiting. We no longer could pretend everything was fine and that someday life would go back to the way it was when we first got together. Either we would have to put in the work to fix what was broken or call it. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the waitress, setting down my ice tea before sauntering away again and a wave of guilt flowed through me. I wouldn’t be able to wait much longer, but I had to. This had to be done. The discussion was long overdue, as was my husband. I glanced around again, praying I would see some sign of him, but still nothing. Where was he? I noticed the police cruiser back by and immediately a panic flooded me, but it kept on driving without ever slowing down. A sigh of relief escaped me, but it was short lived as I finally spotted my husband’s Solara slide into one of the few open parking spots. Air I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped my lips in a quick exhale, an attempt to release all of the tension that had built up in me. There was no going back now. I watched his tall frame climb from the car, taking care with each movement he made as if one wrong move would upset the entire universe. 

Hindsight is perfection. Looking back there were so many things I would have done differently in the lead up to this. I should have been more understanding. I should have learned to deal with his constant lateness and the small things that added up to where we were today. I should have. If our relationship had a theme it would revolve around all the things I should have done. But it was too late for all of that. It was time to stop denying our individual choices created the monster. His muscles were tense as he grabbed the chair and pulled it back from the table, muttering apology after apology. I said nothing, just pulled the papers I had had drafted up from the bag and set the packet on the table. 

“I just need you to sign these. I refuse to wait any longer.”