She felt her anger welling, bubbling to the surface. She gave him the finger, eyes blazing.
“Yeah!” His voice moved lower. “That’s what I’m talking about. Give your man some more of that. He not only wants it-he needs it. Trust me.”
She glowered at him, reaching out and shoving her hand against his hip. He didn’t move, but she saw his eyes brighten and widen, with that same look she’d seen before, as if he was looking right into her.
“Trust him.” Gazoo grabbed her hand as she reached out to shove him again. “Just keep giving it to him, whatever it is-whatever you’re feeling. You’re doing great.”
His praise made her stop, and she turned as she heard Rick puffing down the aisle, jogging toward them. “I’m sorry.” He held a hand out to her. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
She stood, putting her hands on his chest and pushing hard. He didn’t expect it, and he stumbled, catching himself on the back of a chair.
“Hey!” Rick’s brow wrinkled. “I said I was sorry.”
“Word of advice.” Gazoo walked around them. “Stop apologizing.”
Rick snapped his mouth shut, frowning.
“She doesn’t care what you did a minute ago, or a year ago,” Gazoo continued, saying it over his shoulder as he walked past. “She cares about what you’re doing now. Right now. Good luck, you two.”
Laura stood with her arms crossed, mouth drawn, feeling faint from hunger, her bladder full to bursting. They stood there, looking at each other, neither sure how to proceed.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. Laura nodded, fast and furious, taking his outstretched hand. He pulled her to him in the nearly empty auditorium.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he said into her hair, holding her so close she could barely breathe. “I’ll do whatever it is I have to do, whatever you want…”
Laura growled, wiggling and writhing against him.
“What?” He let her go and shook his head. “What did I say?”
She smacked her forehead, rolling her eyes.
Rick sighed. “Come on, let’s go eat.” He was nearly to the door again before he realized she wasn’t following, and he had to go back and grab her hand to pull her along.
Dinner was a disaster.
They were all supposed to eat dinner together in the island retreat center’s cafeteria, and she felt everyone’s gaze on them as they made their way through the line. Rick kept asking if she wanted this, or this, or this-and she just kept shaking her head. She watched his tray fill up with food, while hers stayed empty. They got to the end of the line, and Rick realized all their money was in her purse.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Rick unslung her purse from her shoulder and looked for her wallet. He handed a twenty over to the cashier to cover their drinks, which were not included. “I thought you were hungry.”
Laura grabbed her empty tray and threw it on the floor. She threw it so hard the orange surface cracked as it skidded across the tile. Everyone was definitely looking at them now!
“Hey!” The cashier frowned. “What the hell?”
Laura stomped her foot, her arms crossed over her chest. She felt her cheeks burning with color, tears pricking her eyes. Her stomach protested-it was nearly seven o’clock and she hadn’t eaten since noon.
Rick stood with her purse in his hand, his mouth hanging open. The look on his face infuriated her and she screamed. It was something primal, rising from deep in her belly.
For the first time in days-weeks, months, perhaps years-her throat felt unconstricted. She screamed and stomped her feet, jumping up and down on the tray. She nearly fell, catching herself on the tray rails, and she shook those too, for good measure, although they didn’t move.
“Uh, Laura…?” Rick blinked fast, looking around at the crowd, his face turning red.
She screamed again, long and sustained, grabbing his tray and swinging it around, throwing it like a discus over her shoulder. The woman behind them in line yelped in surprise, taking an instinctive step backwards. The tray sailed through the air, spilling packaged rolls and fruit cups and salad as it went.
Laura was breathing hard, hands clenched into tight fists. Rick’s jaw tightened, and she saw the line on his forehead appear, the one that showed up when he was really angry.
“All right, Helen Keller…” He grabbed her arm before she could throw anything else. Laura gasped at the tightness of his grip.
“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized to the cashier. “Do you need me to clean it?”
The woman shook her head, waving him away. “Just… why don’t you have her go lie down or something?”
“Or something,” Rick repeated with a grimace, yanking Laura’s arm nearly out of its socket as he headed toward the exit. She stumbled behind him, glad her hair hid her face. She felt the room’s gaze on them as they made their way out of the cafeteria.
Rick was quiet in the elevator, but she knew his angry silences well enough. She tucked herself into the corner, spent, and watched the numbered lights counting up to their floor. When the doors opened, he remembered to grab her arm, pulling her along the corridor to their room.
He found the key card and opened the door, yanking and shoving her in front of him into the room as he turned on the light. He slammed the door and Laura sat on the edge of the bed, wincing when he threw her purse into a corner.
“What in the fuck was that?” he demanded. “I asked you, ‘Do you want spaghetti?’… ‘Do you want salad?’… ‘Do you want a banana?’… Did ‘no’ suddenly become ‘yes’ in your fucked-up version of reality?”
Laura sank to the floor, tears coming now. She wanted to speak, but realized she couldn’t, at least in terms of the practice.
“You tell me you want me to take the lead,” he went on, watching her slide down the side of the bed. “But ‘The Great Gazoo’ must have a fucking crystal ball, because he’s right-you don’t trust me to do it for a minute.”
She felt her whole body clenching again, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding her feet under her skirt.
“You decide we should come here.” He paced, back and forth, hands behind his back. “You decide this relationship guru is the next magic thing.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “You decide we’re going to do this stupid practice. What’s next?” He stopped pacing, breathing hard. “You decide you want to end our marriage? Is that the next decision on your checklist?”
Laura shook her head, sobbing and wiping tears away with her palms. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go at all.
“When do I get to decide?” His quiet voice trembled. “When are you ever going to trust me to make a decision?”
Laura screamed. It wasn’t a planned thing-it just came out of her. She grabbed her shoe and threw it at him. He dodged and it hit the wall behind him.
“I wanted you to make a decision!” she screamed, her voice hoarse from strain. “You spent that whole time asking me what I wanted-and all I wanted was for you to decide!”
“That’s great.” Rick snorted, shaking his head. “Except I’m not The Great Fucking Gazoo, ya know? I’m Fred Flintstone, babe. I ain’t got a damned clue what you want-unless you tell me!”
He sat on the chair near the desk with a sigh, leaning his forehead against his palm. “It’s like you either want to make all the decisions-fuck me and what I want-or you want me to make them all, but you don’t want to tell me how you feel about my choices.”
She swallowed hard, her lip trembling. She knew he was right but she didn’t understand it.
“Sometimes I think you pull stuff like that little Helen Keller incident downstairs just to sabotage me.” Rick rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. “What I really think is that you just want to find a way to blame it all on me when it’s fucked up.”
“Oh, Rick…” Laura felt something break open in her chest. It was like an iceberg dislodging from a glacier. “Oh my god…”