“You need to slow down.”
Michael has this terrible habit of driving too fast. It drives me crazy. We have two kids in the car and he is still pushing twenty over the speed limit. And the way he grips the steering wheel – it looks like he’s trying to strangle it.
“Well then why don’t you tell me how fast to go,” he shoots back at me.
I love Michael. He is my everything. But he has the tendency to be a bit aggressive, even with me. He has never been that way with the kids, thank god. He dotes on those two. Isabella is four and Clark is barely two months. He looks at them like they can do no wrong. I can’t really blame him, especially about Clark. Clark is the perfect baby. He hardly ever cries and has the most angelic face. Looks just like his dad.
We’re driving down the highway on our way to my mother’s place.
We left a little later than planned (just a little kitchen accident) so it’s dark out. Michael is driving (of course, he’d never let me drive). Isabella is crying in the backseat (as usual). You’d think she’d tire herself out, crying for that long. But Isabella has always been a difficult child. I’m in the passenger seat with Clark in my arms. I know you’re not supposed to hold babies in the car, and we have a perfectly good car seat in the back, but I just can’t resist. I want to be as close to Clark as possible. He’s sleeping peacefully, even with his sister making a ruckus in the back.
“Honey,” I say slowly, hoping not to make him angry, “We need to slow down. We don’t want to get pulled over.” He glares at me, but finally let’s loose a bit on the gas pedal. We slow to a normal 60 mph. The roads are calm, just a few occasional passersby.
“I love Vermont in the evening,” I say happily, trying to fill the silence. “All the trees are just a bit gray, but the colors of fall still light up the leaves. It’s like a little paradise.”
Michael grunts and pounds the steering wheel. He never listens to me.
“Honey,” I say a little more forcefully, “It’s going to be a dreadful ride if you’re irritated all night.” Clark looks like a little angel in his sleep. “And we don’t want to wake the baby.”
Michael frowns a little. “Fine. What do you want me to say?”
He hasn’t always been like this. When we first met he was sweet and funny. He lit up every room he walked into. But he’s been getting a little bit angrier each passing day. First it was problems with the house, then his father died. Just a series of hardships. But I can still see that beautiful man I fell in love with all that time ago.
I clear my throat. “How about we talk about how we met. Isabella, dearest, don’t you want to hear about how I met Daddy?” I turn around to get Isabella’s attention, but she’s still wailing. “Isabella, are you listening to me?” Her face is red and streaked with tears.
“Belly, please calm down,” Michael says softly. His voice is so kind sometimes. “Please don’t make things harder for me.”
Isabella sniffs and shakes her head. “I want-“
“Belly, hush.” Michael is a bit sterner now. “Listen.”
“Thank you, Honey.” I smile. Michael is trying his best to control his anger. He tries, he really does. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, how we met.”
Those first days were magical. Of course, we met in the hospital where I was working. I was just a secretary, nothing important or anything. But Michael saw potential in me. He greeted me with the kindest, most beautiful smile. His eyes were blue and shining. He looked like someone out of a Disney movie. We chatted a bit as normal folks do. I checked him in, and he went away to his appointment. I thought nothing of it until a while later when I saw him out at a coffee shop. I couldn’t believe it! That’s how we reconnected, and we’ve been in love ever since.
