Tale as Old as Time

Chapter 8

After Chris finished up with 'Many a Splendid Thing' we just stayed in LA. We didn't even discuss it. Neither of us even brought it up. I know for me, I just wasn't ready. We bought a house to be our family house, to raise kids in, and now it was just a reminder of what we'd lost. I was also not ready to be around his family doing family things yet. Being in LA meant I could pretend just for a little while that's not what our plans were. That our plans were just to hang about being the way we'd always been in LA.

I guess maybe Chris felt the same way. Like I said. We didn't talk about it. Maybe not the best way to relationship. I just - I struggled.

I did sort out my future work. I received a research grant that was impressively funded. It paid my salary, the salary for two other postdocs and for equipment and other things needed. With all that, Harvard welcomed me into their University with open arms. All they needed to do was provide some empty offices and they had money and their names on future papers from a scientist that had already made a name for herself in the early part of her career. It was like Christmas had come early for them.

When I told Chris, he wasn't as excited as I thought he would be.

"What the fuck, Emily? Why didn't you tell me?" He snapped.

"I wasn't sure it would work. I also thought you'd be happy. It's a job near our new house. Isn't that a good thing?" I said. I was completely perplexed at this reaction.

He got up and stormed outside. I followed after him. He stopped by the door and patted his jacked. Swore. Stormed back inside and reemerged with a packet of cigarettes. He fumbled with them, swore again. Finally got one out and then realised he didn't have a lighter.

"Fuck!" He shouted, slamming the packet of cigarettes on the pavement.

"What the fuck, Chris? What are you doing?" I asked. I felt a little scared. Not of him. For him. I had no idea what was going on in his head.

"I just want a fucking cigarette. Is that too much to fucking ask?" He shouted. I went to the little pot we kept matches in for lighting the barbeque when the switch was being a dick or I used to light joints with from time to time. I lit one and cupped my hand, holding it out to him. He leaned forward, lighting his cigarette and taking a large draw, before collapsing against the wall with his eyes closed.

"What are you doing, Chris?" I repeated, putting the matches back in their little hidey hole.

"I thought you said you were going to not work and just follow me around?" He said.

"For a year yes. That year is nearly up. I thought you liked my job." I said.

"I do."

"What is it then? Is it Boston?"

Chris pushed himself off the wall and started pacing. I stepped in front of him.

"You were supposed to have a baby by July." He said, not looking me in the eye. "We were supposed to be parents."
I tilted his head to face me. The mention of babies had done that thing where I was pretty sure I was about to burst into tears again. "I - I don't know what to say to that."

He went and sat down on at the outdoor setting. "I thought you'd want to try again."

I stared at him for a minute trying to talk my own emotions into not going into full meltdown again. "I do. We already talked about this though. And I can't just do nothing until I'm ready. I can't just only be your wife."

"What's wrong with being my wife?" He muttered.

"Oh for fuck's sake." I threw my hands in the air and went back inside. I made a beeline for the bedroom and fell face first into the mattress.