suspicion tender_square when he said he didn’t want to watch “the office” before bed she asked him if it was because it had gotten too late to start an episode. “no, i just thought we could hang out.” they had spent several chunks of the day talking through things, or arguing, and she hoped more of that wasn’t on his agenda. her suspicion got the better of her. “what is that you want to talk about?” his expression fell in reply. “i just mean, if it’s a continuation of what we were talking about before i got into the bath, i’m just not sure i have the energy for it.” the day’s events had exhausted her, she didn’t know how much more she could take on emotionally. “why do you keep doing this to me? why do you keep trying to manage things on a schedule that works for you when i’m a person who has feelings and wants to be able to discuss them freely?” she had certainly stepped into it; what she was trying to avoid she managed to create. and as they argued for the fourth or fifth time that day, she took stock of her body language, arms crossed as though holding herself while she rested on her side to face him. it was a protective stance, she realized. she was keeping her heart gated, not knowing when, exactly, she had closed it to him. he’d hurt her but she couldn’t quite say how, and she didn’t want to cast blame when external events had altered them both. “you do whatever you want,” he argued. “you said this to me about your first marriage and now you’re doing it again. that’s why we keep fighting,” he said. “because i’m pushing back.” a part of her regretted admitting that to him all those years ago. was it defiance in her or an attempt to get her spouses to pay attention? either way, the quality was being used as proof in his argument, to show a pattern of behavior she brought upon herself. “you can’t do whatever you want,” he went on. “we’re *married.*” her soul shrank at the statement. he was always going on about how rebellious he was and here she was realizing that the longer they were married the more rebellious the spirit was in her too. he asked her the most direct question of all. “is there something that i should know? is there something you’re not telling me?” she shook her head, quietly and clearly stated, “no.” she curled into his chest and held him so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. she remembered what her therapist said a few days prior when she recounted her frustration about the yoga mat fights. “here you are, asking him to notice something big and purple on the floor,” she’d said. “and yet, you also don’t want him looking too closely at what’s going on right under his nose.” the irony was not lost on her. “i’m sorry for not loving you in the way you deserve,” she said to him through tears. “i will try to do better.” what other choice did she have? 220112 what's it to you? who go blather from