Page 47 of Unmatched

“Doesn’t he always go to work with her?”

“Usually, but...” My voice trails off. I don’t know how to put this into words. I feel like I blew my chance at everything.

“Look,” Seth says. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. You are an asshole for getting on that app and taking it all the way to a hotel, and I’m glad she nailed you. But she hasn’t been prioritizing you or your marriage. You should probably both apologize. But after that, I think you just need to get over yourselves and fuck.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. My little brother, the king of one-nighters, has never had a monogamous relationship in his life.

“Yeah. And still true.”

“But she doesn’t want that.” My voice breaks, and I cover my face with one hand. “It’s like she wants a roommate, not a husband. Maybe I just need to suck it up and accept that our relationship will never be what I want.”

“Anton, don’t take this the wrong way, but Lydia...” he emphasizes her name, then stops, like he’s grasping for words. “Dude, she’s—I mean those tits alone?—”

“You can stop there,” I say in a warning tone.

“You know what I mean.” He exhales. “Sorry, man, just stating the obvious. Your wife is fuckin’ hot. And no way a girl who looks like that doesn’t want to use what she’s got.”

I close my eyes. “I’m here to tell you. It’s been ten years. She doesn’t.”

He pauses, probably trying to grasp the concept. I’m one hundred percent certain my little brother’s never been turned down for sex. But maybe that’s because he’s never hooked up with the same girl twice. He sighs, finally admitting he’s out of his depth. “You can’t live like that.”

“No. But she could.”

“Okay, look?—”

“How’s Mom?” I ask, changing the subject.

When we spoke this morning, Seth had gotten a call that she’d attacked one of the staff members at Sunny Cove while they were trying to bathe her, and they’d had to sedate her to get her calm.

“She’s good. I went and saw her this afternoon after some of the drugs wore off. She was a lot more peaceful. Even gave me a bit of a smile.”

“Do you—do you think I should come out?”

I tiptoe carefully around my feelings. Seth is the decision maker because he’s with her in Dallas. He personally deals with Mom, her caregivers, and every issue that comes up. It’s my job to shut the fuck up and not second-guess him.

“No,” he says sharply. “I think you’ve got enough shit going on with Lydia. Mom would say the same. She’d want you to stay there and fix things. You know how she feels about you guys.”

Felt, I want to say. But we can’t seem to avoid speaking about her as if she’s still actually with us. One thing I will always treasure about Lydia is that she knew my mom, was even close with her, before the dementia really took over. The two of them were like peas in a pod. Shopping together, chatting for hours. Lydia became the daughter Mom never had, and Lydia, whose own mother is a real piece of work, was happy to fill the role. By the time we got married there were already little signs Mom was struggling, but it took us all a long time—and her nearly burning the house down—to see them for what they really were. To realize she needed care and finally place her in a facility. I still can’t believe it some days. Mom is only sixty-four.

“You’re a great son, Sethie,” I mutter into the phone, trying to make light of my guilt. The fact that I’m not the one there, making sure she’s cared for myself. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Shut up, asshole. You and Lyd made her happy when it counted. And you’re going to keep doing that once you figure this shit out. I’m just the fuckup cleanup crew.”

“Thanks for being there,” I say, and this time I’m completely sincere. “I know it means a lot to her—and me.”

At ten minutes to seven, Heartthrob bounds through the front door, tackling me with a face full of sloppy dog kisses. And for the briefest moment, I am so grateful. For both of them. His nonstop tail wagging, the way he makes us feel more like a family, the fact that she came back at all. And the possibility that I might not have to spend the night in this silent house, alone with my regrets. I grab Heartthrob’s favorite rope toy off the floor, and we circle the coffee table in a vigorous game of tug-of-war, which I let him win when Lydia comes in and shuts the door.

“Hey,” I say, straightening. I think I owe it to her to be the first one to speak.

“Hi.” She sets her things down by the door, but I can’t get a read on her face. Is she still upset? Resigned? Optimistic?

“Do you uh...” My voice trails off as I notice the dog holding his leash in his mouth, tilting his head. “Should we maybe take him for a walk?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

We head down the sidewalk toward a park a few blocks away. There are flowers peeking out everywhere. The sun has been setting noticeably later, and the air has been warm all week. It’s the time of year when everyone starts to get excited for spring, but we shuffle along, barely lifting our feet while the dog makes efficient work marking his territory. It figures—I’ve been sitting around the house waiting to talk to her all day, and now I just keep opening and closing my mouth like a dumb fish. Nothing ever comes out.

When we reach the far end of the park, we turn back toward home. Her hair is coming loose from its bun, and she pulls out the elastic, letting it fall over one eye the way it did this morning when she stood naked and beautiful in our bedroom before everything went wrong again. My dick stirs in my pants, and I stop right there on the path, suddenly more sure of myself than I’ve been all day. “Look, Lydia?—”

---