Chapter 16 - The Anniversary We Almost Didn’t Have
Our ninth wedding anniversary arrived in April.
Neither Mark nor I mentioned it until breakfast.
Lily did.
“Happy wedding day!”
She had overheard Zoe.
Mark and I looked at each other.
“Thank you, Bug.”
Lily ran upstairs.
The silence she left behind was complicated.
“Do we celebrate?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Me either.”
So we did not pretend.
We went to therapy instead.
Together.
Our counselor asked one question.
“What marriage are you trying to save?”
I frowned.
“Our marriage.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“The marriage you had before Thanksgiving?”
“Or a different one?”
Mark answered first.
“Different.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“The old one required Chloe to ignore things so I could avoid conflict.”
The therapist looked at me.
“And what did it require from you?”
I thought.
“To believe being easygoing made me safe.”
That realization hurt.
I had spent years congratulating myself for not being demanding.
Not causing drama.
Not making Mark choose.
But healthy marriages were not built by never forcing difficult choices.
They were built by knowing what someone chose when difficulty arrived anyway.
After therapy, Mark and I walked along the lake.
Chicago was still cold.
It was always still cold in April.
He stopped near the railing.
“I bought you something.”
I tensed.
“No jewelry.”
He laughed.
“It’s not jewelry.”
He handed me an envelope.
Inside was a document.
The home-equity balance.
Zero.
I stared.
“How?”
“I sold the boat.”
“What boat?”
“Dad and I co-owned one.”
I had forgotten about it.
“And my bonus.”
He paused.
“And Megan repaid eight thousand.”
My head lifted.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Where did she get it?”
“She sold her car.”
That surprised me more than anything.
Mark looked at the water.
“I know money doesn’t fix it.”
“No.”
“But hiding money was part of how I broke trust.”
“Yes.”
“So transparency has to be part of how I repair it.”
I folded the paper.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he smiled awkwardly.
“Happy anniversary?”
I laughed.
“Worst anniversary gift ever.”
“Definitely.”
I took his hand anyway.
It was the first time I had done that outside therapy in months.
We stood beside Lake Michigan in the cold.
Two people who had almost lost a marriage because one of them never learned that peace and silence were not the same thing.
We were not healed.
May you like
But we were honest.
For the first time, that felt more romantic than flowers.
