Kelly was quite tipsy by the time Michelle arrived home from work. Quite tipsy and quite cheerful. She had spent the afternoon drinking and thinking about how much better her life was than Susan's. The end result was that she was humming to herself as she fixed dinner when Michelle walked in the door.
“My, aren't we in a good mood?” Michelle dropped a kiss on her cheek on the way to the refrigerator for a beer.
“Yes.” Kelly wasn't going to mention that she had talked to, much less seen, Susan. “It's been a pretty good day.”
“Glad yours was. Mine sucked.” Michelle opened the beer and took a long swallow. “They moved up the deadline on the quarterly reports and I spent all damned day tracking down information nobody seemed to have.”
Kelly slid the pork chops into the oven. “I'm sorry, honey. You're home now, so relax. Dinner won't be for an hour or so.” They offered me a promotion, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. It would be a hard enough conversation without Michelle being irritated with her own job.
“Great. I'll be in the den.”
Once she had vanished, Kelly poured another glass of wine and looked out the window over the kitchen sink. She tended to get happy when she drank; with Michelle, it was the opposite. If Michelle hadn't had a good day, it would get worse the more beer she consumed, until finally she was either screaming or trying to get Kelly into bed to “work off her frustrations”. Kelly had a momentary thought that it was Michelle who should be trying to quit, not her.
It was silly, of course. Michelle found nothing wrong with finishing off a twelve-pack on a Friday night, or spending a Sunday in front of the TV with the coffee table covered in empty bottles, but she rarely overdid things during the week. Kelly went to bed every night hoping she wouldn't awaken to a hangover. Michelle could just stop when she decided it was time; Kelly wasn't finished until she could barely stand up.
How anyone could miss her inebriation confused her, and yet it seemed no one could tell when she was ready to fall over. Maybe it was her habit of drinking alone, or of topping her glass frequently, which made it appear she was drinking less than she really was. Not that it mattered; drunk was drunk. Whether Michelle, or Kaitlan, or anyone else could tell was irrelevant, Kelly could.
Michelle came back for another beer, gave her a curious look, and left again without speaking. Kelly sighed and drained her wine before refilling it from the box in the refrigerator. There was no point in brooding if she wasn't going to put the effort in to do something about it. Sobriety was something elusive, and she wasn't sure she would ever find it; wasn't sure she really wanted to.
The first part of dinner was quiet, each woman lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, however, wine loosened Kelly's tongue enough that she felt able to bring up her conversation at work.
“Michelle … what would you think if I went back to school?”
Michelle looked up from her plate quizzically. “What for?”
“Um, they offered me a promotion at work. I'd have to take some classes at UNC-G.” Kelly watched emotions flash across her partner's face.
“A promotion? More hours? I thought you liked being part time.”
Kelly sighed. “I do. But with Kaitlan gone, it's a little empty around here.”
“So take up tennis again. We don't need the extra money.” Michelle poked at her plate. “Why would they offer you a promotion anyway? You're almost 46.”
The burning that shot up Kelly's face was almost as painful as the knife she felt in her gut. “Maybe because they like my work? What kind of a thing is that to say, Michelle?”
Michelle put her utensils down and looked her dead in the face. “I don't like the idea. You have a job here. I make the money, you keep the house running. That was the deal.”
“It doesn't take that much to keep the house running with just the two of us, Michelle.” Kelly felt the veins in her neck starting to throb. “I can do both. Or you could help out. What's wrong with that?”
“School? And full time? There'd be no time left for us.”
Like we spend any time together now? Kelly took a drink of wine to prevent that thought from verbalizing itself. “It's a chance to grow.”
“You don't need to grow,” Michelle retorted. “If you think you do, take a pottery class or something. You don't need to take on all of that.”
“How do you know what I need?” Kelly glared at her.
Michelle stood up so fast her chair slid into the wall. “I don't like it. I don't know what's gotten into you, Kelly. First you start talking about getting sober - which I notice hasn't gone anywhere, by the way – and now you need to grow? There's nothing wrong with the way things are. Half the dykes in town would kill to have what you do, someone who supports you.”
“I want to be able to contribute! I'm not the mom any more, Michelle. I want to feel needed, can't you understand that?” Kelly stood as well.
“I do need you. I need you to take care of the house and be here when I come home. I need you beside me when I sleep. That should be enough.”
“It isn't. I'm sorry.” Kelly wished she hadn't spoken as soon as she saw the expression that settled over Michelle's face.
“I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I'm not enough for you. I'm sorry I gave up my whole life so you could be a mom. Do you think this is where I wanted to be at 45, working in an office? No. I had plans; dreams. So did you, until Kaitlan. So I adjusted, I gave you what you wanted. Kaitlan's gone now. I want my life back. I want us back.” Michelle drew in a breath and stared at her for a long moment. “Oh, forget it.” She stormed out of the room, leaving Kelly standing dazed.
She had known all along that Michelle had taken Kaitlan in with misgivings. Over the years, their family had seemed to settle into a quiet, comfortable rhythm, one in which Michelle appeared a contented participant. She had obviously been wrong. Now, it was like Michelle would accept nothing but Kelly's undivided attention, as if that could somehow make everything better, put things back to the way they had been before Kaitlan had come into their lives.
The front door slammed, and a moment later Kelly heard tires squeal from the direction of the driveway. Michele was gone, and in the mood she had taken with her wouldn't be back until late. Slowly, Kelly sank back into her chair. She wasn't sure she could give Michelle what she demanded, wasn't sure she wanted to. Her confusion grew until the turmoil became overwhelming. She got up and went to the kitchen, pulled down a juice glass, and poured it half full of bourbon.
If she couldn't resolve, she would have to forget. Maybe things would be better in the morning.
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