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“No, I won’t marry you.”
He sat back on the couch, dazed. “Why are you doing this in front of them?”
I looked back and saw our audience as they stood awkwardly away from us. Jason seemed to want to melt into the walls and disappear, while Nikki leaned against Siti as she tried to hide her zeal over the drama unfolding before her. “So I don’t lose my nerve,” I said.
“I don’t understand. We’re happy.”
“You clearly haven’t been paying attention. I haven’t been happy for a long time. You don’t spend time with me, you’re always working, volunteering for some out of state project, closing yourself off in the den. You barely even sleep in our bed with me anymore.”
“But I told you why. I was building our nest egg.”
“We have plenty of income. Our nest egg was fine already. I still have more than enough in my savings—”
“Not if we wanted a house and a family.”
“I have more than enough to cover us if you lost your job.”
“Yeah, but I’ve made sure that I can provide for our family no matter what happens now. You don’t have to worry about getting a job, and you can stop writing those silly books.”
I stopped breathing as lightning shot through me painfully. “Silly books?” My ears grew hot, a fiery rage boiling in my belly.
“Well, yeah. Once we have kids, you won’t have time for writing or anything.”
How had I never seen this? I could practically hear Nikki’s and Jason’s shock as I processed this new information. “So my job will be to stay home and raise the kids, take care of the house, while you go out and make the money. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course. You always said you wanted to be a stay at home mom.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t give up my writing. I would never do that! It’s my passion!”
He scoffed. “Passions don’t earn a living wage. Why do you think I worked so hard to get where I am?”
“First of all, I earn at least double the money you do, and I love writing. Second, where exactly are you? I still don’t have a clue what you do for a living because you never talk about it.”
“Why would you want to continue doing something as pointless as writing fiction? It’s not like it’s useful or anything.”
I thought back over what his bookshelf looked like and realized he only ever owned books for DIY, history, or reference books for work. He didn’t own a single work of fiction. “Oh my god,” I laughed. “All this time, I thought you supported me, that we had the same interests. But we have absolutely nothing in common!”
“That’s not true,” he argued.
“You don’t like fiction.”
“Well, no.”
“You hate the shows I watch.”
“They’re formulaic and trashy.”
“And your ideal wife would be a mother, maid, and cook, am I right?”
“I don’t see what the point of this is.”
“Answer her,” said Nikki.
Fred glared back, but grudgingly said, “Yes, I would prefer my wife be the keeper of the home.”
“I really should have asked these things in the first few weeks of dating, but I guess I thought modern men can’t be this antiquated. How about traveling? Do you want to travel?”
“I already do.”
