the city // joshler

11

tylers point of view

"i'm so angry with myself. i'm ruining my marriage. this is gonna make grace's life hell. i don't know what to do because i don't think i love him anymore, josh. i'm never going to love anyone more than you," i let my words spill out of my mouth before i can stop them. it's a tearful sort of slurred and i feel my cheeks burn with tears and frustration.

"tyler..." josh pauses and brings one hand to brush my cheek. his eyes are hard to read, but they're looking straight into mine when he speaks again. "i want you to know that i will always love you. if you never want to speak to me again, i understand that, and i'll leave you alone. i didn't mean to make things so hard for you. just know that you saved grace's life and she loves you more than anything. she talks about you all the time. i don't think you could ever make her that mad at you."

"i don't want you to leave me alone, josh, that's the whole thing." i give him a weak smile. "and i know gracie loves me, i just don't want to make things hard for her."

"sometimes staying together for the kids makes things worse. you don't want her idea of marriage to be an unhappy one. i'm not trying to pressure you or anything, i'm just thinking out loud i guess. you don't have to be sure of anything right now."

"i'm scared, josh." i lean my head back into him, this time not to cry but to soak up every bit of him that i can.

i feel whole with him, like i'm home after years of roaming through life content and i am finally able to revel in the bliss of his presence. my sunrise and sunset, my farm boy with cheeks freckled like strawberries and hair curled like grapevines. my love.

we sit like that for awhile and i find myself wondering what he's thinking about but not wanting to know. then something comes into my mind that i hadn't thought of asking before now.

"do you still paint, josh?"

it seems like an obvious question, but i feel the need to ask it.

"i do sometimes, what makes you ask?"

"i keep one of the paintings you gave me hung in my hallway," i admit.

"really?" he shifts a little to look at me, trying to gauge my emotions from my face.

i nod. "i do. i loved watching you paint and seeing how your brain worked, then having something you made for me was so special i wanted to keep it."

"he never says anything?"

he. my husband. the sting in my heart is sharp and reminds me that i should be feeling guilty for what i'm doing right now.

i slide off of his lap and hide my face in my hands. "no, he doesn't know it's from you. even if he did, he probably wouldn't assume anything or ask me to take it down. he's good, he's so good to me. i'm a horrible person."

"you're not a horrible person, tyler, you can't help what you feel."

i sit up and take a deep breath, turning to look at him. "i'd like to watch you paint, josh."

josh leads me to a room with canvases covered by tarps on one wall, a giant window on another, and then a third wall with an easel propped up and a little cart full of supplies next to it.

"this is your studio? better than a basement i suppose." i elbow his side and take in the room.

"nah, the mold fumes from scott's basement inspired some of my best paintings." he smiles a little and i see him look down at my hand and consider holding it. he doesn't.

regardless, his joke makes me laugh and i take a seat on the floor next to the window.

"go ahead then."

"what am i supposed to paint?"

"whatever you want."

he nods in return and starts getting his paint ready, picking out each color individually. i watch as he moves once he gets going, the way his arms move and the way his hand grips the brush, the way his back muscles move as he turns his body to dip into more paint, and the way he tilts his head ever so slightly.

he's painting a house on a field. it's got a nice balcony and a porch. he paints a sunrise behind it, a garden to the side, and a couple silhouettes in the window, dancing.

by the time he's done, it's evening time and the painting is drawing tears to my eyes. it's a life. i asked him to paint what he wanted and he painted a home with a garden and a dog, us slow dancing in the kitchen while gracie sits at a desk in a bedroom upstairs. he wants a life with me and part of that makes me angry, like how dare he show this to me and do this to me, make me feel this way.

what made me the most upset about it is that i want that too.

(an: this book is already about halfway over, things will be picking up soon! how do we feel? have you ever fallen out of love? how would you describe it?)