Page 116 of The One I Need
“Holy shit, is that you?”
I shouldn’t be this excited to hear my wife’s voice, but I am. It’s sad that I don’t remember the last time I heard it.
“Hey babe,” she says, though she doesn’t sound like she’s sharing my excitement.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She trails off to yell something at someone. “Sorry. Today was the deadline to approve the graphics. It’s nuts. And I thought you were going to be Hazel calling and asking me why I haven’t sent over the social media language yet.”
“Well then, don’t let me keep you,” I say. “Call me later?”
“Yup.”
“I—” I start to tell her I love her, but the line goes silent before I can.
* * *
Izzy: You up?
Oliver: Mmhmm.
Izzy: You don’t have to pretend. I know it’s the middle of the night for you.
Oliver: But you’re up. Give me a second and I’ll call you.
Izzy: It’s okay. I just miss you. I know I’ve been crazy and things have been weird, but please know I love you. And I miss you. Get some sleep.
Oliver: Love you more.
* * *
Oliver: How was your day?
I throwmy phone on the couch, not expecting a response from Izzy anytime soon. It’s already seven o'clock here, which means it’s one in the morning for her. Sometimes I catch her still up, but she’s been putting in such long hours she crashes as soon as she gets home. I usually try to message her at the end of her day, which is around noon for me, but today we started two-a-day practices, and it was break time. And frankly, I needed a nap after staying up last night hoping I could catch her, which I didn’t.
I remember the days when I’d text her to ask how her day was, and I’d shoot up a prayer that she’d even respond. I remember every time she answered me back a warm feeling ran through me. I was so excited we were talking, even if it was just in a friendship sense. Now I just want her to answer so I know we’re still okay.
Because the more and more this separation lasts, the more and more I’m worried we’re not.
A knock on my front door saves me from going down the dark rabbit hole of outcomes. I’m about to stand up to open it when Shane comes walking around the corner into my living room.
“Hey,” I say as I turn down the television. “What brings you by?”
He holds up a six-pack of beer. “Figured we could just hang out. Catch up. Make sure everything is okay.”
I take one of the beers from the six-pack and twist off the top. “My wife is in London. I’m here. I’ve talked to her twice in the past two weeks, and that’s being generous. I’m miserable. The worst part is that I’m letting it show. Today I told a freshman to run a gasser because he only called me “Coach” instead of “Coach Price.” I had the kid in my class back in the day. He used to draw me pictures. I felt like shit.”
“It’s understandable,” Shane says. “This is the first time you’ve been in love.”
“I’ve been in love before.” I say defensively.
Shane raises an eyebrow. “Really? I know you thought you were. But honest to God, think back to every proposal. Is there anyone out of that group that, now that you have Izzy, you wish would have said yes? That they were the ones who got away?”
I think long and hard about my numerous failed attempts. At the time, I was devastated after each one. Some more than others. Some I knew immediately I dodged a bullet. Some I was truly heartbroken. But this? This feeling of every night like the knife is digging more and more into my chest? I’ve never felt like that before.
“You’re right. I love her. I love her so fucking much it hurts.”
“I get that,” Shane says. “Which is why it hurts so much that she’s away. I remember guys I served with in Iraq talking about how they went days without speaking to their wives or girlfriends. It takes a toll. Not only on you but on the relationship.”
