Mulligans

33. The Choice

On the seventh night, Nathan was still sleepless on the couch. He stared at the ceiling and wondered what, if anything, he could do to reverse the pain he had caused. He knew he had no case to make; no testimony would warrant or validate his actions. He was fortunate that Stacey had moved forward, allowing him to coexist but with neither approval nor admonition, which was perhaps even worse. She had become distant, silent, and apathetic, seemingly drifting in her own thoughts, as if this physical reality were no more than a dream.

When Stacey appeared standing over him, he wasn't sure whether it was really her or his imagination. She gave him a solemn nod and then beckoned him to follow her into their bedroom.

Stacey was sitting on the end of their bed in an almost catatonic state, staring at her slippers, when Nathan slipped into the room. He stood waiting, holding his breath, unsure if he should be arming himself for a fight. Still staring at the floor, she patted the quilt with her hand, and so Nathan joined her on the end of the bed.

"I've rehearsed this so many times in my head. Before, I mean," she clarified. "And every time I was patient and understanding and calm. I'd tell you everything was okay, that it didn't change anything; that it didn't change us. And in time we'd grow closer because of it, because there was no more pretending, only truth. But last week changed things, obviously. And now that I'm sitting here, I don't know what to do."

"I never wanted you to get hurt," Nathan said.

"Nathan, I don't care that you're gay." Stacey finally found the courage to look up at him. "I care that you cheated on me and lied about it."

"I don't want you to leave, Stacey. I need you." Nathan sighed heavily. "I don't want to lose this."

"But what does that look like, Nathan? What will our life be?" Stacey asked. "Will you have boyfriends? Am I supposed to find a boyfriend?"

"I don't know that's what's right."

"But you want to be with a man."

"You're my best friend, Stacey, but there's always been something...."

Stacey stood and began pacing the room. "I know lots of married couples that never have sex. I don't think we've done so bad."

"We haven't, but there could be so much more for both of us."

Stacey turned on her heel and glared at him. "I don't need anything more. We made a commitment. I know you've made sacrifices, and so have I, but Birdy is ten years old and she needs both of us. She will have two parents. Nothing will jeopardize my family. Not me, not you, and certainly not him." She pointed accusingly out into the yard, as if Chase were lurking just outside their bedroom window. "It's up to you. I'm not leaving."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's your choice to stay or your choice to go," Stacey said, pulling her housecoat off its hook and wrapping it around herself.

Nathan hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. He hadn't expected that it would be his choice. He was guilty as charged, and he'd assumed she would just hand down a sentence. The weight of having a choice seemed almost too difficult to bear.