Chapter 4 - A House Where They Could Hear Each Other
The decision was Claire’s.
They were eating dinner in the enormous dining room when she suddenly set down her fork.
“I hate this house.”
Adrian looked around.
Twenty-two rooms.
Six fireplaces.
A staircase imported from Italy.
A wine cellar big enough for a restaurant.
A security system that cost more than most homes.
“Why?”
Claire stared at him.
“You really need me to answer?”
“Apparently.”
“It’s too big.”
He waited.
“The worst six months of my adult life happened here, Adrian.”
The words cut.
Not cruelly.
Honestly.
“I would lie awake in a bedroom the size of an apartment knowing you were somewhere else in the same house and feeling like I lived alone.”
He looked around again.
“What do you want?”
“A house where we can hear each other.”
The sentence stayed with him.
They bought a four-bedroom brick house on the west side.
It had an imperfect backyard.
A kitchen that needed renovation.
Two maple trees.
A sunroom Claire loved immediately.
And it was fifteen minutes from St. Catherine.
Adrian’s first instinct was to replace the kitchen before they moved.
Claire stopped him.
“I like choosing things.”
He remembered.
Control.
“Then choose.”
They spent six weeks arguing about cabinet handles like an ordinary married couple.
It was glorious.
Not every day was good.
Claire’s illness did not disappear because her marriage improved.
Some months she had difficult cycles.
Some mornings she could barely walk downstairs.
Sometimes Adrian sat on the edge of the bed watching her sleep and felt terror crawl through him.
The old instinct always returned.
Call the best specialist.
Get another opinion.
Find a solution.
Fix it.
But loving Claire required him to understand something he had resisted all his life.
Some things could not be conquered.
Only accompanied.
One evening, during a particularly bad flare, he stood in the bedroom doorway.
“Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“No.”
“Doctor?”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Claire looked at him.
“No.”
He sat in the chair beside the window.
For thirty minutes neither of them spoke.
Then Claire reached out from beneath the blanket.
Adrian crossed the room.
She took his hand.
“That,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That was what I needed.”
May you like
He sat beside her.
He did not ask another question.
