The Sick Wife Read online

  She’s leaving me? I’m confused for a second, and then I see it. My phone.

  I left my cell phone charging in the bedroom while I worked in my office.

  She must have unlocked it and read my texts. To Milla.

  When she sees me standing in the doorway, she picks up the phone and throws it at me. “You asshole! How could you? This whole time you’re lying to me, acting like you’re my husband, playing house—while you’re actually planning to leave me and be with her?”

  “Evie…”

  “Don’t you dare! Harvard? That’s what that was about? You’re working on your English because you’re planning to move to America to marry Milla? You gave her an engagement ring while you were still married to me? Are you fucking insane, Gabriel? I wasn’t dead! I was not dead! I’m still not dead!”

  “I know,” I tell her softly.

  “Motherfucker!” she yells, picking up a lamp from the night table and throwing it at me. I just barely dodge it, and it crashes into the wall behind me and smashes into pieces.

  Realizing what she has done, she sits down on the edge of the bed, dissolving into tears.

  “Evie,” I say, approaching her cautiously. I try to soothe her by touching her shoulder. “You and I haven’t been good for a very long time. We were basically separated for over a year…”

  “I don’t care!” she shouts. She rips my hand off her shoulder. “You didn’t tell me this. You let me believe we’re getting back together and that you love me. You even fucked me, and then you go back to texting her?! What the hell are you doing, Gabe? Why don’t you just be a man about it and end things if you don’t want me anymore?”

  “I couldn’t,” I tell her softly. “I didn’t want to hurt you. And you were so sick…”

  “Fuck that!” she shouts. “I’m not sick anymore. Okay? I’m not sick. Stop touching me!” Getting up and grabbing her walker, she limps across the room to the closet where my clothes are. “Here’s a cashmere sweater I bought for you, for Christmas a few years ago. I don’t think you ever wore it, probably because you hate me.” She moves to the window and opens it, before throwing the sweater outside. Then she stares at the sweater on the grass with a frown. “That was unsatisfying. I need to burn things.”

  “Evie,” I say with warning.

  “No! Fuck you, these are my belongings too. This is my home too. I need to burn some shit.”

  I give up and sit down as Evie flies around me, moving surprisingly fast with that walker. She grabs a lighter, and random items, and she sets them on fire before tossing them out the window. She screams and yells at me for what feels like hours, until both of our heads are aching.

  “You need to stop talking to that bitch!” she shouts at me.

  “I can’t do that. I told you I love her. I can’t let her go so easily.”

  “And what about me?” she asks. “What the hell am I even doing here?”

  “I’ve been trying to take care of you, Evie. I love you, too. I want you to be better,” I say softly.

  “Fuck you,” she tells me. “Fuck. You. I don’t know why the hell you married me in the first place. You never wanted me. You never fought for me. You never tried to fix things with me when they were broken. You are a quitter, Gabe. Just because you’re physically here helping, doesn’t mean you’re really here. You’ve been so far away this whole time. You’ve never been here with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Evie. But you know the reason we fell apart. The main issue we always fought about—you know what broke us.”

  “You want a baby,” she says simply.

  “Yeah,” I answer her.

  I can see the hurt and pain flash across her face. “I was never good enough for you. You could never just be happy with me alone, just the two of us. I need to burn some more shit.”

  * * *

  I am sitting outside of my house, holding a small white object between my fingers.

  For the first time since my mother’s death… I lit up a cigarette.

  I couldn’t resist it anymore.

  It took me a long time to calm Yvette down so that she stopped mutilating all my belongings. I forgot how difficult life can be when that woman is able to walk around. I probably lost a couple tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of antiques that were smashed, valuable paintings that were burned, expensive clothing, a TV that she destroyed—basically anything she could get her hands on.

  She also dug a grave in the backyard for her wedding ring, and buried it. I guess flushing it down the toilet is no longer her style. Maybe she felt it would lose the dramatic impact after being done once already, and she needed to find new ways to make her asshole, cheating husband feel like crap.

  It works. But I’m also just glad that she’s strong enough to dig a small grave.

  Maybe being angry with me is also helping to hasten her healing curve.

  Apparently, Yvette also called Milla. She cursed at her so much that Milla felt guilty and awful and broke up with me. It has all just been a total shitshow. I don’t really know what to do next, and I just feel exhausted from all of this. It’s too difficult, and I am tired of hurting everyone. I pull out my phone, and stare at the messages from Milla. I know it’s been hell for her lately. It’s been hell for all three of us, and I don’t see any way of resolving it quickly.

  But I don’t want to let Milla go.

  I sit here and smoke with one hand, breaking the promise that was my mother’s dying wish. I said I would take care of myself and be healthy going forward. I said I would love and honor my beautiful young wife. But I just can’t seem to hold on, lately. What would my mother say if she could see me now? Getting drunk and getting into fights on the streets? Cheating on my wife and hurting her. Sitting here and smoking, after I just saw how cigarettes caused Yvette to nearly lose her life.

  With my other hand, I text Milla a long letter about my life, hoping she will understand. I don’t even know what I want her to understand, but I just can’t let go.

  I hope she won’t let go, either.

  Chapter 31

  One morning I wake up and I feel perfectly okay. Optimistic. Good.

  Milla has forgiven me and we’ve gotten close again. I stopped sleeping in the same bed with Yvette, even when she has nightmares. I made it clear to her that I’m not okay with us right now. I made an effort to get my work life back on track. I stopped smoking and started trying to get healthy again by going for a run every morning.

  But the real reason I’m going for a run is to call Milla for a few minutes each day. Just to try to keep us alive. I start to feel healthy and normal and good, and happy. It seems like everything is starting to settle, and I even start looking into ways to get into the United States to surprise Milla. I want us to really try to be together for real, and start a life together. I am tired of being away from her.

  Yvette has her parents here, and she’s growing stronger by the day. She doesn’t need me anymore. Milla needs me, and I need her—and that’s that.

  I am brushing my teeth and getting ready to go for a run when I hear a scream.

  I drop the toothbrush into the sink and run over to Yvette’s room. I find her on the floor clutching her stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, going to her side.

  “The pain,” she says, clenching her jaw. “Oh god. I think something’s wrong. Can you call the doctor?”

  “Doctor or ambulance?” I ask her.

  She hesitates. “I don’t know. Can you help me stand?”

  I help her to her feet, and she limps over to the bed. “Let’s try the doctor for now. If he can’t get here soon enough, or if it gets worse, I’ll go to the hospital.”

  “What do you think it is?” I ask her.

  “I have no idea. It feels a bit like one time when I had a burst ovarian cyst—maybe it’s nothing serious,” she says anxiously.

  “Okay, I’ll call the doctor.”

  * * *

  By the time the doctor arrives, Evie’s pain is a lot
less, but we let him check her out anyway. I stand by the door as he takes some blood and checks her vitals, and asks her some questions. She says she’s been feeling really weak and nauseous.

  I watch as he runs some simple tests.

  “Well, I’ve got some good news,” the doctor says. “The source of your pain is pretty easy to identify: you’re pregnant.”

  “I’m what?” Evie asks, looking over at me. “But that’s not possible… we’ve been careful.”

  My stomach sinks into the floor.

  “Accidents happen,” the doctor says, packing up his equipment. “Considering everything you’ve been through lately, it will be a high-risk pregnancy. So you should get an ultrasound at the earliest convenience. We need to get you properly checked out at the hospital.”

  “Oh my god,” Evie says, putting her face in her hands.

  I know how she feels about kids. She never wanted them. I swallow, moving over to sit beside her on the bed, and I take her hand. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll get that ultrasound soon.”

  “I’ll let you two process the news. Otherwise, she looks perfectly healthy,” the doctor says. “We need to run some more tests, of course, but from everything I see… she should be capable of carrying to term.”

  “Oh my god,” Evie says again. Her face is drained of color and she looks like she has just learned that she’s about to be sent to prison for life.

  The doctor says goodbye and excuses himself.

  I feel sick and afraid, and I know that it’s all out of my hands now. “Evie,” I say gently. “What do you want to do?”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, putting a hand on her stomach with a shocked look on her face. “I know… I know how much you want this.”

  “I only want it if you also want it,” I tell her, trying to be kind. “You don’t have to feel pressure to do anything for me.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing,” she says brokenly, as tears stream down her face. “I mean, I did just survive a life or death situation… and now this. It’s kind of like a blessing or a miracle. A gift. Maybe it’s what we need to keep us together. Maybe it will fix us.”

  I feel something break inside me. “You sure, Evie? You feel good about it? You want this?” I ask her.

  “Yes,” she says softly, but she’s crying. “I mean, it’s horrible timing for this to happen when I can barely walk... but I just want us to be happy again. Maybe this is something to be happy about.”

  “Okay,” I say softly, rubbing her back. “Whatever you decide, I support you completely. Are you going to quit smoking then?”

  “I’ll try my best,” she answers me. Her facial expression looks distant. She looks like she is already behind bars, and all the life has been sucked out of her.

  “Evie… I just want you to be healthy and happy,” I tell her. I feel some kind of deep ache starting in my chest. This is not how it’s supposed to feel. It’s supposed to be the best thing in the world. We’re supposed to be hugging and laughing and crying from joy. Not fear.

  “Are you happy about it, Gabe?” she asks me, tearfully. “Do you want this?”

  I hesitate, when I see the look on her face. I don’t know what she wants to hear. “Of course, I’m happy,” I say quietly, trying to reassure her. “I’ve always wanted this.”

  * * *

  As soon as I can get away from Evie, and get outside, I make the phone call I have been dreading.

  “Hello?” she answers groggily.

  “I’m so sorry, Milla. Evie got sick, and we had to call the doctor…”

  “Oh, no. Is everything okay?”

  I don’t know how to tell her this. She’s going to hate me. “Milla… please forgive me. I must have really screwed up.”

  She pauses. “What? What are you talking about?”

  I take a deep breath. “I don’t know how this happened. I thought I was careful, but…”

  “Gabriel!” she shouts at me. “Are you kidding me right now? Is this a joke?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  Camilla is silent for a long while. “She hasn’t even been home for a month… you promised…”

  “I swear to God, I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

  “You promised!”

  “I know, Milla. I’m sorry. But I’m going to have to be there for her now. We can’t talk anymore.”

  There is another long silence. “Gabe, how could you?” Then her voice changes, from hurt and emotional to suddenly professional. “Please take care of her health.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll send the ring back to you in the mail,” she says, and her voice sounds cold as ice. Like a sharp icicle stabbing me in the chest.

  “No, please. Keep it, Milla. You’ll always mean so much to me, and I’ll always love you. But I have to do my duty now.”

  “I’ll always love you, too,” she says. She hangs up on me abruptly.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. I go back inside and walk to my office. I remove a painting from the wall. I punch a hole in the wall.

  And then another.

  I replace the painting to cover the holes.

  Then I go to find some cigarettes.

  Chapter 32

  I hate not talking to Milla. I hate it.

  I’ve been letting my health go badly since we discovered the news. I’ve been smoking like crazy. I haven’t been sleeping well, or eating well. I no longer go on my morning runs. I am starting to feel like serious shit, and my mood is always grumpy because of it.

  It doesn’t help that Yvette also seems to be suddenly depressed. She’s not happy at all, and it’s obvious. I don’t know what to do or say to help her—we can’t seem to communicate.

  One day I’m stalking Milla’s Instagram when I see that she posted about her engagement. What the fuck? I have to read the post about 17 times to comprehend what is happening.

  Fuck. Milla got engaged to that asshole Doctor Mike.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I didn’t think she would move on so fast. It happened days ago.

  I thought I had more time to figure all this out. I thought she would wait for me. Did we really mean so little to her that she could let go that easily? What am I talking about? I just dumped her.

  It’s not fair of me. I left her alone this whole time, and I know she was dealing with some crap. She wasn’t well, and I couldn’t be there for her. And I expect our relationship to still somehow exist.

  Maybe she’s better off with Mike.

  Fuck.

  I go to the wall of my office, and remove the painting to smash my fist into the wall… but there’s no more room to make holes. I need to get a bigger painting.

  Or… a plane ticket.

  Before I found out about Yvette’s pregnancy, I was planning to make a trip to America to surprise Milla. After all this time, I think I’ve found a way to get into the country. Maybe… maybe I still can or should go. Maybe it would mean something for both of us to meet up at least once before we have to say goodbye forever.

  Is this crazy? Sure. But we already established that I have a specific kind of brain damage.

  I go to my computer, and sure enough, I see that Milla has sent an e-vite to her wedding. Really? I guess there’s a video broadcast for overseas friends and relatives who can’t attend in person.

  Fuck. Her wedding is in two days.

  I immediately start looking up plane tickets, and the COVID test requirements. It might be possible for me to get into the country in time for her wedding. I text Yvette’s parents and ask if they can come and watch her for a few days.

  Then I walk over to Yvette’s room and knock on the door. I open it slightly, and find her lying in bed, like she has been for days. Listless and unhappy.

  “Evie,” I say softly. “Do you mind if I drive down to the South of France for a day or so to visit Guillaume? He has some ideas for the new book I’m working on.”

  “Sure. Whatever,” she says. “Tell him I say hi.”

  It
hurts me to see her like that, but there’s nothing I can do.

  “Don’t forget that my ultrasound appointment is on Tuesday,” she tells me. “Try to be back home before then.”

  “I will,” I tell her, then I softly shut the door.

  It feels insane, but there’s some kind of fire lit under me, spurring me to action. I know what I need to do. It’s now or never.

  * * *

  I’m standing outside the church, trying to restrain myself from bursting in. I can’t believe I finally found a way to get to America, and it’s too late.

  Milla’s in there right now, getting married. She’s just a few feet away from me. So close I could touch her. I could walk into that church right now, and pull her into my arms and give her a hug. I want to so badly. I want to be with her. I step forward, toward the large double doors, my hands aching to rip them open.

  But what can I offer her? Yvette is carrying my baby, and I am honor bound to be by her side.

  I can’t ruin Milla’s chance at happiness with that asshole, Mike, just because I selfishly want to keep her all to myself. I have to let her go. But it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, to know she’s just on the other side of these walls… a few inches of wood are all that separate us. She’s so close to me. And I can’t touch her. I can’t go to her. I have to do the right thing and let her go.

  Fuck! Why did I come here? I turn around and march away from the church.

  But she sent me that e-vite. She wanted me to come here, right? I pause.

  Did she want me to come and be a guest at her wedding? Or did she want me to rescue her? I don’t know what to do. I turn back to look at the doors.

  All I know for sure is that we really do love each other, and that guy she’s marrying means nothing to her. I know that if I walk in there and take her hand and say her name, she will walk away from him in a heartbeat. She will leave with me. I know that. She will go anywhere with me. Stepping forward again, I put my hands on the big brass doorknobs. Just a tiny pull and these doors will open, and I can finally see her. The woman who I believe is the love of my life.