That wasn’t acceptable. I needed a person. They wouldn't let me leave without a human by my side.
Tripp didn’t answer his phone, and I thought about calling my mom, or calling Leo, but they worked on opposite ends of the city. I was close to Mariana’s building, and she always worked late.
“Can you come get me and sign me out like I’m in grade school?” I tried to make it sound light.
She told me she’d be there in ten minutes.
She arrived in eight, signed the discharge forms, and walked me to a waiting town car. Her regular car.
Once inside, she looked me over. “Sweetie, tell me one thing. What are we going to do about this?”
Her accent came out to play when she wasn’t in court or at work. She liked to joke that she saved her all-neutral, no-nonsense voice for when she needed to scare other attorneys, but when she needed to give tough love to her friends, she was the girl from Puerto Rico.
I started to speak. To defend him. To say, It’s just one appointment. People forget.
But I couldn't. I heaved a sigh. “What do I do?”
“Is this what you want? Is this what you signed up for? A man who doesn’t keep his commitments?”
I jerked my gaze to the window, staring through the tinted glass at the sea of New Yorkers, wondering where my husband was among them.
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
“Where are you, babe? I’m here, looking for you. I was running late.” I could hear the tequila on his breath.
Tears didn’t come. Anger did. “Running late? You should have been running early. It was a cup of coffee and a phone call. That was all you had to do. Instead, Mariana is taking me home, and my vision is hazy, my eyes are bloodshot, and I’m wearing sunglasses at six thirty at night and it’s April.”
“I’m sorry. I got a call from a supplier, and I had to deal with it.”
“I had something to deal with too.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll see you at home in a few minutes?”
“Obviously, you’ll see me at home since that’s where you were supposed to be taking me.”
I ended the call. Tears welled up in my eyes. They weren’t from the surgery.
“It’s just Lasik. It’s not a deal-breaker,” I said.
Mariana arched a brow. “This may not be the deal-breaker. This may be forgivable. But it’s not about this time. It’s about the collective times. Think about the other times you’ve called me, wishing you were opening your own shop, wishing you had the time to open your own shop. But your time is all his. Think about where you want to be right now and how you want to get there.”
“Are you saying I should leave him?”
She held up her hands as stop signs. “That is not my place. What I am saying is maybe it’s time for some tough love.”
A few weeks later, my eyesight was perfect. It was twenty-twenty, and the irony wasn’t lost on me as I went to a kickboxing class with my new eyes.
With each punch, I counted. I still hadn’t opened my chocolate shop, I was still paying bills that weren’t mine, his restaurant was still struggling, and his loans were coming due.
Too many nights of him out late with his chef friends, coming home stinking of wine and tequila then crawling into bed, wanting to make love like that, needed to end.
We’d gone to therapy. We’d seen a counselor. I’d asked him to go to AA. He’d attended a few meetings. He’d earned his one-day sober chip five times over. And he’d lost it every time.
Five years after I said I do, I said something else. At the end of the workout, I turned to Mariana. “It’s time.”
She smiled. “You know I’m behind you, every step of the way.”
That meant the world to me. That was the opposite of a deal-breaker.
I left class, called Leo, and asked him to meet me later that day for coffee.
At the coffee shop, Leo ordered a coffee with extra cream, just the way I liked it. He brought two mugs to the table. I clicked open the web page on my computer and toggled to the open tabs. “This one is nearby. I read about all its programs, and I think it can help him.”
Leo peered at the screen, nodding as he read. “I’m no expert, but it sounds like a good choice.”
“There are some others, but they’re farther away and more expensive.”
“I can pay for it.” His eyes were flooded with hope and a strength that floored me. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t even think to ask for help, not from Leo and not from Tripp’s parents. But Leo’s willingness to do it, to put his money where his mouth was, stunned me.
“Thank you, but he’s my responsibility.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, he pinned my gaze with his serious eyes. “He’s our responsibility, Lulu.”
A headache brewed out of nowhere behind my temples. I rubbed them, trying to rub away the pain. “He’s my husband. I have to try.”
“It’s hard. It’s harder on you than anyone else.” That was all he said. All he needed to say. But he knew it. He understood.
