End of the Rope by Jan Redford

Author:Jan Redford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2018-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

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Back at the house, Grant was still comatose. He looked vulnerable lying there, like our little fetus. I wanted to protect him, make up for all the hurt he’d suffered when he’d lost his dad. I knew he was damaged. I was going to be the first person to stand by him through anything. Through thick or thin. Our families would go back to where they came from, we’d move into our new home, he’d come back from Nepal and start work and look after me and the baby, and everything would be fine.

I lay down beside him, curling into his back and passing my hand over the veins in his forearms. Two months ago, when the abortion had been cancelled, he’d said, I guess we’ll have to get married, and I’d felt such a surge of love and relief my legs had almost buckled. We’d gone ice climbing up Grotto Canyon that day and I couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. I knew what most of our friends thought, but my romantic side wanted to believe that no ordinary lust could be so intense. There had to be a deeper reason why we were together. Even if it was just so this baby could be born.

“Hey, you want to get married?” I poked him, tried to tease him awake. Sometimes if I acted perky and optimistic, I eventually felt it. Fake it till you make it.

He let out a long moan and shook me off. “Not today. Tomorrow.”

I sat up, pushed harder on his back, no longer playful.

“Sarah can’t marry us tomorrow! You’ve got to get up!”

“Someone clean the goddamned bathroom! I’ve gotta take a dump!” a voice roared from the living room.

“Didn’t you clean the bathroom?” He pushed himself up on his arms and looked at me, the sky blue of his eyes peeking through narrow slits.

“Are you serious? I’m not cleaning your fucking puke.” I pulled away from him. He was joking. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t smiling.

“Great. That’s real supportive. Nice way to start a marriage.”

I gathered up my trousseau: the startling pink dress, the jacket, the silver ring I’d bought downtown for thirty bucks, the white, polka-dotted nylons, the worn-out beige sandals I’d bought years ago in Indonesia—the only footwear I owned that wasn’t designed for hiking, biking, climbing or skiing.

“You can have the shower. I’ll get ready at Mom and Dad’s hotel. Angie’s going to try a bit of makeup on me.”

“No. No makeup. You don’t need it. You look good natural.”

Standing in the doorway, I smiled. I liked that he liked me the way I was. I decided to take a risk. “I love you,” I said casually, as though it were an afterthought. I’d never told him that before. I missed how Dan and I had said it every day.

I couldn’t tell if Grant had heard me, so I said, “Do you love me?” My voice sounded high-pitched, babyish, and I told myself, This is stupid. I should just go get ready.

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