The Half He Didn't Hear

I wanted to kiss him.

I also wanted to shake him until I heard the loose screw rattling.

I decided to start with water.

Adrian drank half the glass and watched me cautiously.

"Are you angry?"

"I'm trying to work out how long I've been living in a comedy without getting a copy of the script."

He reached for his phone.

"I had reasons."

He showed me a post from Elliot. Two hands clasped together, a black sleeve resembling mine, a caption about reunions even time couldn't prevent.

My husband looked as though he were awaiting a sentence.

I enlarged the photograph.

"That's a sleeve, Adrian. Millions of people have them."

"You were wearing one like that."

"So were probably a few hundred other people in the area."

I scrolled. There were more vague posts, dates conveniently close to our reunion, a photograph of a keychain.

A whole story built for anyone willing to believe it.

I looked at Adrian.

"You looked up his account."

"His main account. This one was in the followers."

"And you investigated."

He looked away.

"I had time."

I took a breath.

"Today he came to my office. I turned down the invitation, turned down going out with him, and told him clearly that I wasn't interested. When he wouldn't respect that, I had him escorted out."

Adrian went still.

"I heard him."

"What?"

"He said he could wait for you in secret. That nobody had to know."

I stared.

"And then?"

"I left."

"You missed the part where I told him to stop talking and called security."

My husband shut his eyes.

He didn't look relieved at first. He looked like someone beginning to understand the scale of his own disaster.

I took out my phone and opened my conversation with Sophie. Showed him her confirmation that she was with her cousin and would make sure he didn't contact me.

"I wasn't with him tonight. I was working."

Adrian read it once. Then again.

His thumb went still against the screen.

"I thought you didn't want me to know."

"Then you ask me."

"You sounded so certain when you said we could end things."

"I was afraid you were staying with me out of obligation. You told me you didn't love me. You kept telling me it was an arrangement."

He looked at me.

For the first time, he seemed to be hearing his own words from this side of them.

"I thought if I didn't ask for much, you wouldn't leave."

The air left my lungs slowly.

I put both phones on the table and took his hand.

"I don't want Elliot. I don't want any of those other guys. I want to understand the man I married."

Adrian lowered his forehead to our joined hands.

I stroked his hair until his breathing settled.

When he tried to get up to put the violin away, he swayed.

I caught his arm.

"Sit down."

He was pale. His ear looked even redder, and his forehead felt damp beneath my hand.

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. His weight gave way before he finished speaking.

I managed to guide him back onto the couch. He responded when I said his name, but the fear in my own voice scared me too.

I called for help.

Adrian attempted to object while I gave our address.

"You don't have to make a scene."

"You brought a violin to a jealousy crisis. I'm entitled to an ambulance."

At the hospital, more alert, he answered questions about drinking, food, and sleep with the enthusiasm of a student who hadn't done the homework.

"Did you eat dinner?" the clinician asked.

"I meant to."

"Have you been sleeping well?"

Adrian looked at me.

"I meant to."

I pulled a chair beside the bed.

I didn't turn the night into an argument. He was evaluated, kept for observation, and given instructions, including how to look after the new piercings. I held his belongings and told his mother we were together and would let her know if we needed anything.

By the time we came home, close to dawn, his face held an honest exhaustion, without the usual pose.

I helped him settle into bed.

He caught my hand before I reached for the lamp.

"Were you scared?"

"Yes."

The answer seemed to hurt him.

"I'm sorry."

I sat beside him.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow you can apologize in longer sentences."

He smiled faintly.

Then grew serious.

"If anything happened to me, you wouldn't be left without anything."

I looked at him.

"Don't give me a farewell speech because you had one terrible night."

"I made a will. You're in it."

The silence changed weight.

"When?"

Adrian brushed his thumb over my ring.

"When you started college. I wanted to tell you how I felt. I brought flowers and a ridiculous folder of documents. I thought if I showed you I was serious, you'd listen."

I remembered an afternoon. Flowers on the ground. A name changed in a romantic gesture meant for somebody else.

I looked at him.

"That day?"

Adrian nodded.

There were whole years inside that gesture.

I lay down beside him and slid an arm around his waist.

He moved closer as though he still needed permission.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

I kissed his forehead.

"Yes. And this time, you're telling me the rest."