Page 2 of Date and Switch

The house was dimly lit and silent when I walked in. The light over the stove shone, but Sarah wasn’t watching TV in the living room or working in the office. Only a few dirty dishes in the sink—nothing out of the ordinary. Up to my bedroom I’d nearly convinced myself how wrong Kevin was. Paul G. was obviously a pick up from one of my neighbors’ houses.

Sarah sat in the tub, ear buds in, humming softly to some song that played while she lay, in the tub drawing patterns in the bubbles with her fingertips. I stood and watched her for what felt like minutes. From my backpack I removed a card. The one I’d spent the whole return flight finding the perfect words to say. The card that closed with Let this be the beginning of a lifetime of adventure.

“Bryce! You’re home. I didn’t expect you until after seven.”

She straightened up in the bathtub, removing her ear buds and setting them on the window ledge. Her uneven smile was just a smile, not a signal that something was amiss. I’d caught her off guard. The washcloth that covered the distended peaks of her nipples wasn’t a sign she was suddenly uncomfortable in front me, who’d shared a house for over two years. I’d seen her naked body plenty of times and done any number of things to it; I couldn’t imagine her getting embarrassed by me seeing her in a tub. I startled her. That was why she covered herself. That was all.

Kevin put too many doubts into my head. He’d planted a seed that grew with the speed and efficiency of a weed in a prized bed of roses. Over and again in my head thumped the name Paul G. He didn’t deserve real estate in my head. Not right now. This was a time for excitement.

“I have a present for you.”

Her smile still didn’t reach her eyes. The washcloth still hid her breasts from me. She seemed to be bathing in cement, unable to move.

“Give me ten minutes. I’m almost finished.”

“No, it’s just a card. You can open it now.”

I dug deep down to find that kernel of excitement that just an hour ago filled every thought that surfaced. I came up empty each time I attempted to find a kernel of emotion. The smile on my face felt insincere, every muscle felt strained with the effort to keep it affixed.

“Bryce, I’m soaking wet! I don’t want it to get ruined.”

She said it in a laughing way. Like of course I wouldn’t expect her to open a card in the tub. The water would dilute the beautiful words I’d written and turn them into ink laden tears.

“I booked us a trip,” I told her, unable to hold on to the news.

The card she refused to take felt heavy in my hands. The red envelope almost like a signal telling me to stop. Don’t say the words. The card told me. Turn around and walk out of the bathroom. But I pressed on.

“Your partners suggested you should take some time off when this project finishes. I remember they said you needed a creative recharge. I booked us a trip. A trip for the ages, Sarah. We’re going on a cruise, around the world.”

I held up that stupid card. That unassuming red card lined in cream with gold foil stars. The card with a man in a tuxedo and a woman in a red glittery dress wrapped in a lover’s kiss on the front, and just my words on the inside. No benign well wishes or standard text for the love of my life.

“I can’t take a trip around the world, Bryce. I have to work. I have deadlines and projects.”

“But they want you to take time off. What better way to be inspired than to see all of the world’s greatest architects up close?”

“That’s a big ask, Bryce. I don’t know anyone who has a boss that would be okay with them being gone for what? A year?”

“Roughly seven months, give or take. We’ll be at sea for a few long stretches—sometimes a full week. We can always use that time to check in with work, there’s Wi-Fi in the suite. We could turn it into a partial working vacation.”

“I can’t, Bryce. That’s way too much time for me to be away. I have responsibilities, and deadlines. When is this hypothetical trip taking place?”

“Whenever you can get the time approved.”

She shook her head. I watched her push tendril of hair out of her face before looking out the window. I’d expected surprise. Maybe a little bit of shock. But this? It felt, off. Wrong. Did it feel that way because of Kevin the Uber driver? Or was she truly acting strange?

“I can’t be away that long,” she muttered, seemingly to herself.

“Can’t be away that long, or don’t want to be away that long?”

Despite feeling the warmth of the tiles beneath my feet, and the fragrant humid air encircling the room, I felt chilled. It was as if the house itself knew a secret. It was now or never. Either I pointed to the elephant which had taken up space in the room inside my head, or I shoved it down, pretended Kevin from Uber didn’t exist and no one had ever told me about Paul G.

I turned on my heel and walked into the bedroom. She said she needed a few minutes to finish her bath. I left her, with her washcloth still covering the body I’d seen millions of times in the two years she lived with me. Nothing was out of sorts in our bedroom. The linens were new, fresh. I could still smell that warm, pink smell that fabric softener has when the sheets come out of the dryer. It didn’t mean anything though. The cleaning lady could have recently changed them.

“You caught me off guard.” Sarah flitted into the bedroom, wrapped her arms around my neck and placed a kiss on my check, “I had this whole plan. I was going to order dinner from our favorite Italian place, set the table, play some music…the whole shebang. When did you decide to take an earlier flight? I could have sworn you landed at seven fifteen.”

I held her face between my hands and kissed her. Hoping there would be no lie on her tongue to taste. With desperation I wanted to believe Kevin from Uber was mistaken.

She kissed me like she had a million times. Soft. Sweet. Arms around my neck, melting against my body. I deepened the kiss, tickling my tongue against the swell of her bottom lip, knowing she’d bend against me, unable to resist. I pulled against the belt of her robe, inserted my hand into the opening, and palmed one of the breasts she’d denied me.

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