Page 11 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

She passed Olivia to the part-time nanny. When the woman was gone, she straightened her spine and went for it, before she could lose her courage. “Husband.”

Edouard flipped the newspaper page without looking at her. “Wife.”

“I was hoping we could talk about something.”

“That’s what we’re doing,” he said, nose down on his glasses as he read, more than likely, the local news section, which was where he always started. “Talking.”

“I was hoping…” Maureen trailed off as one of the kitchen staff entered and placed their plates in front of them. Edouard asked what she was hoping, but she didn’t answer until they were alone again. “To talk to you without the newspaper covering your face.”

Edouard grunted. He didn’t at first heed her request, but after a second, louder grunt, he folded the paper and set it neatly at his left. “I haven’t gotten to the baseball scores, so I’d appreciate your expediency.”

“I’ll try,” she said. So many of their conversations happened from behind his newspaper that she didn’t quite know what to do with his undivided attention. She started to chew her lip, but remembered he didn’t like that, or any habits that went against his quest for fastidiousness in all things. “I don’t quite know how to say it.”

Edouard sliced through his steak with his knife. He dabbed it in a dark sauce and placed it gently into his mouth, like a jeweler tending to a rare diamond. He chewed, swallowed, and then said, “Expediency, Maureen.”

You should be so lucky to have a wife as young and beautiful as me. To have a wife who would do anything to make you happy and dotes on your only daughter.

“I know you have your pet projects on the side.” She sucked in and held her breath, with the first of the words out and lying in the space between them.

“Pet projects,” he repeated, enunciating each word with careful precision.

“You know what I mean.”

He set his fork aside. “I’m not sure that I do.”

Maureen sighed. “Your secretaries, Edouard. I know I wasn’t the first, and I didn’t expect to be the last.”

Edouard tensed. He didn’t immediately respond.

“I’m fine with it,” she stressed. “Really, I am. You won’t hear a word about it from me.”

“And yet, here you are, with words about it.”

“Not about that,” she said, shaking her head. She needed to get to the point before he got cross with her, a state in which he was already halfway there. “I want you to be happy. To be satisfied. As your wife, this is my utmost concern in all the world, even if it’s not me you choose to satisfy yourself with.”

Edouard’s face twitched. Another pointed silence followed as one of the kitchen staff came to refill their wine glasses.

“But, as you have needs, well, so do I,” Maureen said, proud of herself for coming to the point. She’d said it. Women were not supposed to have such needs, according to polite society, but, well, Maureen knew who she was and there was no use denying it. “And I’m not asking for much, but I do need something.”

Edouard’s cheeks blossomed with pink. She couldn’t read his expression, to decipher whether he was embarrassed at her choice of conversation, or angry at her impudence. “I see.”

“I know what our marriage is. What we agreed to. Other than that one time, I’ve… well, I’ve respected that. I’ve adjusted my expectations, and my needs, accordingly. I’ve been a wonderful mother to our daughter, I take care of the household—”

“Maureen—”

“And I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t so… well, unfair, that you can carry on as you please, while I’m left going to bed each night frustrated.” Maureen held her breath; she’d gone too far, she was sure of it.

“If you’re expecting me to shame you for having needs,” Edouard said slowly, “you’re mistaken. I don’t wish to discuss this in any great detail, please understand, but as a man who has… peculiar needs of his own, I’m in no place to judge those of others.”

“Twice a week, it’s all I ask,” Maureen blurted. “You don’t need to pretend to be into it. I just need… I need the act, Edouard. I need to feel…” She trailed off.

He shook his head. “We may be on two different tracks here. What I’ve told you, about our own conjugal relationship, still stands. I’ll come to your bed if and when you want another child, and only then.”

Maureen’s lip quavered. She willed it to be still, to act like an adult. “I don’t understand.”

Edouard checked his watch. She let her eyes travel to the clock above his head and noted he had only fifteen minutes left in his allotted time for dinner before his persnickety routine would require him to transition to time in his study. “Our meals are getting cold. I’m giving you permission to do what you need to in order to see your needs are met.” He picked up his fork. “With someone else.”

“You’re… what?”

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