Jacob didn't cut off any limbs or digits while playing lumberjack on Saturday. He didn't scratch the new truck or break any of the wraparound porch windows bringing the tree inside the house and he absolutely declined somewhat impolitely to use any of the ornaments from my collection unless they belonged to the kids or were from pre-1986 Christmases. I refused to pack away the tiny white lace angels that my grandmother made over the years, and Jake refused to use them, saying they were joint gifts, not just for me, but for me and Cole.
We were probably overdue for an argument. Hence the cabin getaway to make up for his obstinance and my stubbornness. Because we once again managed to haul in everything but the kitchen sink into the argument, padding our insecurities and positions with things that had no business there. It was dumb, it was overblown and I sat through church yesterday looking everywhere but at Jacob while he struggled to get through his announcements without his mood distracting him. By the time he made it to his sermon I had softened, I was meeting his eyes and he walked down and squeezed my hand and treated us to one of his travelling orations, and then he smiled at me when he returned to the front and we were somehow back on track, trying to ignore the now-dull barbs we had stuck into each other on purpose.
His need for an identity within this marriage, fighting to call the shots in an established family unit, having come in at a time when our habits and traditions are well-entrenched and finding that he possesses a surprisingly fragile ego about it. My need to defer to him and hating myself for falling into old patterns of behavior, placing all my eggs in one proverbial basket, Jacob's.
I fight that every step of the way and I've been losing this battle for months now.
He brought up how much he HATES the birth control. That it's pointless. That if all of this is meant to be then we should just dispense with it and see what happens. I was incredulous, I had assumed that the baby subject had been resolved. So I threw my pill bottle at him and pointed out that lunatics have no business having babies. He yelled that I was not a lunatic and that I needed to trust him and work with him to get better and that I was going to be fine. I don't listen, much like a child, ignoring suggestions to get some food or go to bed at a reasonable time, and get a ton of fresh air and not wallow in my sad songs.
Jesus, Jacob, if I could fix this shit with some fresh air and a bagel would I be taking all these pills right now?
No, Bridget, I mean I think you ignore ideas that help you, and you like dropping all your responsibilities into my lap so that you don't have to be in charge. And then you resist.
Well, duh. And I hate that.
Why? What's wrong with it?
I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to rely on you for everything.
No one said you were.
But I do.
And someday you won't.
When, Jacob?
When you're ready, princess.
The cabin provided a cozy retreat, an unspoken no-fault zone in which we could simply get back to the basics, the blessings we have. We took turns having sled races in the snow, we built an igloo and then we played Old Maid and had hot chocolate by the fire before bedtime. The kids were asleep before 7:30 pm, exhausted from a second full day of fresh air, and it gave Jacob and I many uninterrupted hours of hardly talking at all, just holding each other and kissing and him tracing every inch of my skin, eventually realizing he hadn't found the birth control patch I should have been wearing but wasn't anymore.
And then he hesitated.
Don't do this if you're simply trying to please me.
I would do anything for you.
Then we won't do anything, because this isn't my decision, it's ours and we're not ready, even if I am.
I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, Jake.
Then make me a new promise. Never do something unless you want it. Not for me, not for anyone. We're a team, we do everything together. No one has to make concessions.
Jacob, that's unrealistic. Marriage is about give and take. It's not selfish.
Bridget, I'm being selfish and I'm sorry. And I think it's glorious that you would take this risk for me but you're right and I need to be patient.
Well then what do we do now?
Oh, there's all kinds of things we can do, princess.
Of course, this is Jacob and Bridget you're reading about, and so when one thing leads to another and we have about as much self-control as a nine year old in a cotton candy factory. He grabbed my head and met me eye to eye at one point and I nodded and his eyes filled right up and then mine did too and we reached one of those irrecoverable moments for the second time in our long history, those ones that we know as wrong but we indulge in them anyway.
Jacob got up to add more wood to the fire afterward. He shook his head and smiled at me.
Bridget, how in the hell am I ever supposed to resist you?
He's asking me this question? Hell, I've been asking the same question about him for years.
It can't be done. Last night he confirmed what I've always suspected. Our infatuation with each other is so strong that it supersedes everything else. Even our collective common sense.
Good.
And in other news, I lost one of my hearing aids in a freak sled accident involving a snowman and Henry. I'm back to my muted world for the time being and I forgot how much I like it here. It somehow makes it easier to deflect the pall of sanctioned recklessness we slept under last night.
