Home>>read The Winner's Game free online

The Winner's Game(81)

By:Kevin Alan Milne


Nothing that I found ever helped.

More recently, with a transplant looming and a marriage in doubt, I’ve been hesitant to read much of anything anymore. I know it might be a good distraction from reality, but I’ve felt like maybe I should face my own reality before I lose myself in someone else’s fantasy.

Then I found Grandma’s journals in the attic last week, and suddenly my love of reading has never been stronger.

As I close the volume I’m in the middle of, my thoughts express themselves in a long, deep sigh.

“You OK?”

Dell’s comment startles me. It’s late, and I didn’t realize he was still awake. I hope my reading didn’t keep him up. “I’m fine,” I whisper. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve got too much stuff churning around in my head.”

“About Ann and Tanner?”

“Yeah, that too, I suppose. But mostly…”

Since Dell showed up yesterday morning professing to want to fix things, we haven’t made any progress in that direction. Between scolding Ann for getting involved with a boy, blaming me for allowing it, and then dealing with the aftermath when everything went just as bad with Tanner as he said it would, he hasn’t had much time to focus on us.

Please, God, let that be what’s keeping him awake…and help us to find a way to fix things.

“Mostly…?”

He leans up on one arm in bed so he can see past the nightstand that separates our beds. “You know…property values. How much do you think we’ll be able to get out of this place?”

I could scream…or cry. Maybe both. “That’s what’s keeping you up?”

Dell chuckles dryly. “I’m kidding.”

“You’re awful.”

“I am, you’re right. Just trying to keep this lighthearted.”

I sit up in bed so I can see him squarely. “Please don’t joke, Dell. The state of things right now between us is hardly funny.”

He sits up too, propping himself against the headboard. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know where to begin.”

But I do…I hope.

I glance at the closed book on my lap. “How about we start with something simple?”

“Such as?”

“A question. If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer? I want the unvarnished truth.”

He nods. “I can do that.” With his eyes locked on mine, he waits to hear what’s coming next.

“It’s pretty simple actually. A follow-up to our phone conversation.”

“I’m all ears.”

“OK. Dell…do you love me?”

“That’s it?”

“For starters.”

“Yes,” he replies soberly. I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and I know that he means it.

“Good. Me too.”

“You love you too?”

“No jokes, remember.”

“Sorry. I’ll be good. Do you have another question?”

I exhale and nod at the same time. “This one’s more difficult. How do you love me?”

He takes a second to think, then says, “Just the normal way, I suppose. I’m attracted to you, of course. And I appreciate all of the things you do for this family. I love the way you’re always taking care of us and helping the kids. And even though we haven’t had a lot to smile about recently, I do love your smile. Oh, and your dry sense of humor—when you show it—cracks me up.”

“Those are reasons why you love me, or what you love about me. I asked how you love me.”

“How?”

“How.”

He needs more time to think. “Well…I go to work every day, to provide for you.”

“And I appreciate it. So if you didn’t love me anymore—say the worst happens and we get divorced—would you stop going to work for the rest of your life?”

“No.”

“Then that’s not something you do just because you love me. So I’ll ask again, how do you love me? What do you do to show me your love?”

“Well, I…”

I don’t want to interrupt him, but as the silence grows, it’s probably for the best. “Let me help you. I think part of our problem is that you say you love me, and I say the same thing back, but that’s often where it ends. We love each other, but don’t love each other.”

His shoulders slump slightly against the headboard. “That’s what you were talking about last week. The noun and the verb, right?”

I nod.

“So what do we do?”

I take another breath. This is the point where he either plays along…or he doesn’t. “Do you remember our first year of marriage, when we played Scrabble all the time at night?”