Page 1 of Two Wrongs

1

Wren

“It has to be perfect,” I say to my best friend while I search my mother’s old cookbook for ideas.

“You’re going to cook? Are you sure, Wren? You know the smoke detector isn’t the timer, right?” Audrey teases.

“Har dee har. I started one fire. I’ve been practicing since then, but I could still use some help. Please help me,” I beg.

“Why are you putting so much pressure on this anniversary? You aren’t pregnant are you?”

My stomach drops. I’ve thought about kids a lot over the last year. Liam keeps insisting we are too young, and don’t have enough money to support a kid. It isn’t a realistic desire, but having lost my family, I long to start one of my own. Of course, Liam is right. Now is not the best time to have a baby to look after. Kids are expensive, and he already works so hard to provide for us. My job as a receptionist doesn’t help as much as I had hoped, but I can’t sit at home all day doing nothing. Liam takes care of our finances, and he is even willing to work extra hours to try and make ends meet. The least I can do is stop badgering him to start a family that would only make him even more stressed out.

That’s why I want everything to be perfect tonight. To show him how much I appreciate the life we’ve been building together for the last five years. It hasn’t been easy and yet here we are, defying the odds everyone gave us when we married right after I graduated from high school.

Liam is a year older than me. He chose to go to the local community college, even though he had a full ride scholarship for football to Western State, just so he could stay close to me. At the time it seemed romantic, but I often find myself wondering if he regretted not going to school.

Sometimes I do. I got accepted into my dream university, Central Valley, and I even managed to get a scholarship. Even with tuition and books covered there were still expenses like housing and food. Still, there are loans, part-time jobs, all sorts of ways to fund an education if you’re willing to work hard enough. Instead of accepting my place in the freshman class, I accepted Liam’s marriage proposal. Liam thought we shouldn’t start our lives out in debt, and I gave up on the idea of going away to school. I did manage to get my AA degree from the community college, and someday I’d like to continue my education.

The last six months have been the hardest. It’s a rocky patch, but I know we can overcome it. That starts with the perfect anniversary dinner. All we need is a chance to reconnect. Hopefully rekindle our love life, which has been nearly non-existent except for one drunken night after one of Audrey’s parties.

“I can’t tonight. Really, Wren, don’t you think maybe you’re forcing this relationship to work? If you hadn’t gotten married so young, you’d have probably broken up by now. Most people don’t stay with their high school sweetheart.”

Counting to ten, I force myself not to blow up at my best friend. Other than Liam, she is the only person on this planet to know pre-tragedy Wren. The carefree girl who dreamed big and lived fearlessly. I buried that girl with my parents the summer before my senior year. My mom’s younger sister came and stayed with me until I turned eighteen, but it wasn’t the same.

The only constants in my life are Audrey and Liam. If sometimes I have to bite my tongue to keep from lashing out when she thinks she’s being helpful, it’s worth it to maintain our friendship. I know she’s only saying it because she cares about me. She’s held my hand through every attempt I’ve made lately to save my marriage.

Still, I couldn’t say nothing and let her think I agree my marriage isn’t worth the effort. “We’ve talked about this. I love him.”

“You shouldn’t have to twist yourself into someone you aren’t for him. Not even Liam is worth that.”

“It isn’t like cooking and cleaning fundamentally changes who I am as a person. I like taking care of him,” I push back.

“If you say so. Look, I’ve got to go. There’s a billion things I still need to do before I can close up the shop for the day,” she says, and we end the call.

My kitten, a stray that had shown up on the doorstep a few weeks ago, jumps up on the table. I scratch behind her ears. “It looks like we’re on our own.”

It’s Saturday, and the office I work at is closed. Liam and I used to spend our weekends wrapped up in each other. I guess even though we’re young, the newness has worn off. Instead of spending time together, we avoid each other. Rather, Liam avoids me.

“Deep breaths, Wren. It’ll be okay. Just keep breathing,” I tell myself.

I throw myself into making dinner. I settle on a roast chicken, asparagus and baby potatoes. It’s one of the few meals my mother taught me to make well before she died. I’ve avoided making it for years, because the last time she was right next to me. The night Liam came over to meet them.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to turn to her now. I’d snuggle up next to her, and let her stroke my hair the way she used to do. The smells fill the kitchen, and my eyes fill with tears. “I miss you, mom,” I whisper.

Silence answers me back, like it has so profoundly for the last five and a half years. Never has it been as loud as the last six months. Before that I had Liam to hold me together. He hasn’t been that person for me for a while now. Now he comes home after I’m in bed, and wakes up as I’m leaving for work. When I try to call him during the day he either doesn’t answer, or he is too busy to talk more than a few minutes.

I’m losing him. I know it. The sad thing is, I think he’s only still here because he doesn’t want to be the guy who leaves the orphan girl. It proves how little he sees me, because I’d never let him stay with me for anything less than love.

Either we find it again, hopefully tonight, or we let each other go.

* * *

The second handon the clock ticks loudly throughout the apartment. Each click mocks me for sitting at our table, watching wax slide down the candles that have burned down to nubs. The food sits on our plates, cooling and looking less appetizing as the night progresses.

I turn over my cell phone for the dozenth time and find the same thing I did the eleven times before, nothing.

Eight o’clock turns to nine, and nine to ten, and yet my husband doesn’t bother to call or text. The candles flicker out and I give up. Dumping our dinners in the trash, I grab my purse.

---