Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Compromise

Compromise

It was Sunday evening and Lou and I had spent another blissful weekend in bed − without a trace of that vague, earlier-voiced intention to take things slowly. We sat in her couch with plates of micro-waved spaghetti in our laps.

“Please make the idea of another Monday bearable and come to my house for dinner tomorrow night,” I said.

“Is it time to meet the family?”

“You met Eleanor last Wednesday, anyway. And she makes a mean beef wellington.”

“You’re not cooking for me?”

“I would, but I want you to live.”

“Don’t you have therapy on Mondays?”

“I used to but, well, my therapist is in the middle of a nervous breakdown herself.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“Unexpected collapse of her marriage. She’s just taking some time off, but I won’t be seeing her anymore.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I still do. Let’s just say I’ve seen her in compromising circumstances. It was never a good idea to go into therapy at Anna’s practice anyway.”

“Why not? Surely they’re trained to keep a professional distance.”

“Can we talk about something else? Like how to get that sauce removed from your upper lip.” I leaned in to lick it off but she pulled away.

“No. You’re being deliberately vague. What are you not telling me?”

“Why would you assume that I’m hiding something?”

“I don’t know. I’m not being difficult for the sake of it, but that’s just how I feel.”

“Because of that business with Joan?”

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t just start trusting you blindly because we have a good time between the sheets. It’s going to take a little more than that.”

“Of course.” I nervously shuffled the last of the pasta around on my plate, debating whether to torpedo the fuzzy warm haze that had descended upon us during the weekend by disclosing my indiscretion with Roz. Morally, I was obligated to but the decision wasn’t just an ethical one. I dreaded the sight of Lou’s face folding into disgust again − the way it had when I told her about Joan’s proposal. More than that, I feared the utter emptiness that would rush through me when she showed me the door, again. I had probably already used up all my second chances. On the other hand, I couldn’t justify Lou building her trust on a lie because she had just asked me point blank, which would make my silence a case of pure inexcusable deception. I looked at her as she sat there with her legs tucked under her body, her eyes clear and not ready for disappointment.

“Did you sleep with her?” She asked, beating me to the punch.

“Yeah.” I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and bit down hard. “I did. I’m sorry.”

“I suspect there will be plenty more skeletons in your closet.”

“Perhaps, but I hope you can see that they wouldn’t matter.”

“This thing between us started as a compromise for me. You know that right? You come with a lot of baggage but I can’t hold that against you. We all have our path to follow. The strange thing is that, even now, sitting here with you and hearing you say that, it doesn’t feel like a compromise at all.” I was on the verge of tears, in fact, one was ready to burst out of my left eye, all fat and obvious, leaving a track of overwhelmed emotion on my cheek. They were, by far, the sweetest words someone had spoken to me in months.

“So you’re not kicking me out?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“When you slept with her.”

“Does it really matter?”

“No, I guess not.” She shoved the plate off my lap into the couch, no doubt staining it irrevocably − Lou wasn’t half as tidy in every day life as she was in her emotional life − and pinned me down. “Best make me forget about it as quickly as possible though.”

To be continued…