Cloven Hooves. Megan Lindholm

without doing that. And, last but not least, there’s the small matter of my job.”

      In spite of my best effort, my voice was getting cold and rocky. Don’t make this a fight, I beg myself. Make it a discussion. He has to see the logic of what you’re saying, you don’t have to be a bitch about it. Just tell him. Lay it all out for him. I pause a moment, hoping he’ll say something. He doesn’t. I take a breath and go on.

      “It took a lot of nerve for me to ask for this much time off. If Annie weren’t my friend as well as my boss, she’d never have said yes. But she can’t keep running the store on her own. She’s got some kid in there for the summer, but come winter the kid has to be back in school and she’ll be on her own. She’ll have to hire someone to take my place, and there won’t be a job for me to go back to.”

      I pause and gather the reins of my self-control. Tom will see. He’s a reasonable man, one who has always treated me as an equal, as a person to be considered. But the silence lengthens and it looks as if he is having to struggle to control himself before he speaks. Neither of us are good at this, at quarreling. We do it very seldom, most things are settled conversationally, or one or the other of us will demur to the other’s area of expertise. I let Tom select the used truck we bought, he let me choose the insulation for the attic, we recognize there are areas where one of us is more knowledgeable than the other. But this is a different thing, an area of opinion based on emotions. And we are both experts on our own emotions.

      “Jesus Christ, Lyn,” he sighs at last. “You make it sound like I’m contemplating murder. All we’re thinking about is spending a winter here with my folks and giving them a hand over a hard spot. I mean, hell, they paid for my college, they brought me up … I feel I owe them. And I have thought about all the stuff you mentioned. There’s a good school for Teddy just down the road from here. The school bus stops right by the gate. And I bet Pete and Beth could rent our place out for us in only a couple of weeks, if we let them know the kind of tenants we want. Taking care of Bruno would be part of the deal. And, hey, Dad said that if we were staying the winter, he saw no reason why Teddy couldn’t have that little pony that Red has up for sale. You know how he drools over that little pinto every time we drive past there. His eyes practically popped out when Dad mentioned it.”

      “You discussed that in front of him? Tom, that’s not fair! You get his hopes all set up, and when Mommy wants to go home, that makes her the bad guy. And you still haven’t mentioned anything about my job.”

      I am honestly angry now, paying no heed to the little sane voice inside telling me to be cool, be an adult, try to see both sides. Tom is frozen by his outrage, stiff as a corpse between the cold white sheets. The tendons stand out against his jaws when he speaks.

      “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Teddy is big enough to understand that what he wants isn’t always what he gets. I don’t see why you always have to get so mad. Any idea I have, if I talk it over with Mom or Dad first, you automatically hate it. It’s wrong, no matter what it is. And so what about your job? Clerking in some weird little shop, that’s not a big deal. I mean, what are you going to become, manager of the fruit and nut section? The buyer for organic teas? It’s not a big deal, Lyn! You can always get it back, or another piss-ant job just like it!”

      “It is a big deal! It’s a big deal to me! And you’re damn right I don’t like it when you take your ideas and plans to your parents first! You’re supposed to be my husband! Remember? Usually married people make their decisions with each other, not with their mommys and daddys. And I happen to like my crummy little unimportant job. It’s hard to find a job you like, you should know that. You’ve walked out on enough of them. And my crummy little job was just fine with you last winter when it was the only damn thing that was feeding us!”

      I stop suddenly. Carefully I fit my knuckles against my mouth and teeth, feeling where they would strike if I could hit myself, wishing I could. I wish I could. I’ve gone too far, way over the edge, past the unspoken boundaries we’ve set up for our quarrels. Never have I thrown things like that at Tom. He cannot hold a permanent job, that is something we both silently acknowledge, not as a fault but as a facet of his independent ways. Never have I thrown it at him like a dagger.

      His eyes are wide open with vulnerability and hurt. I have struck true and deep, wounding him where the blood will puddle and congeal inside him. I have demanded my own way as something that is owed me, throwing his failures in his face to make it his duty to comply. He looks at me silently, his pain trickling through his guts, too badly injured to even fight back anymore.

      “Tom, Tom, I’m sorry. I just got so mad, I started to say anything to hurt you back. I didn’t mean it that way, you know I didn’t mean it. I understood about those jobs. I didn’t want you to stay with them. But I’m hurt, too. When you go to your folks all the time, for advice and make decisions with them, it makes me feel so small and unimportant. There’s nothing for me here, and it makes me feel like nothing.”

      “Teddy and I are nothing.” He says it acceptingly, dully.

      “No. No, that’s not what I meant. You and Teddy are everything. Don’t listen to my words alone, you know what I mean behind the words. Please, Tom. I’m sorry for what I said.”

      I crawl across the bed to him, wrap my body around his stiff one, my belly to his warm back. I bury my face into his hair, so soft against my face, and rock his unyielding body on the bed. My anxious hands run over his body, kneading at the hard muscles, stroking, caressing the stiffness out of him, massaging away the anger and hurt that divides us. Eventually he relaxes in my embrace. He rolls in my arms, embraces me.

      “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” he mutters, his lips by my ear. “Let’s just forget it.” His voice is soothing. “We’re both too tired to be discussing anything, much less fighting about it. We both said a lot of nasty things. If you want to go home at the end of the summer, well, that’s all there is to it. I can understand how you might feel a little overwhelmed by my family. Mom and Dad have had to be aggressive, just to survive in this business, and they encouraged it in us kids as we grew up. Grab the buck, make the deal … you know how they are. So when I saw a chance for us to make rent off our place, and both of us pull in wages here, and Mom picking up the grocery bill, well, I thought it might really set us up, financially. Put us on our feet, give us a second swing at things. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about going home, that’s all. I’ll just tell the folks tomorrow that summer is the end of the visit. They’ll just have to understand.” His eyes are opened wide as he says this, honesty and hurt gleaming in them as he gives it all up for me. Sacrifices it all.

      And he has me. I capitulate instantly, telling him I hadn’t thought of the financial angle, that certainly we can stay at least until the end of the summer, and we’ll talk about winter when we’re both rested, yes, it would be wonderful for Teddy to have a pony, and the job was, well, only a job. On, and on. Giving it all away. Making up for the hurt I had done. What did it matter, anyway? Tom and Teddy, they’re what is important. What did I matter, anyway? Surrender to Tom, and it won’t be scary anymore. I won’t have to ask myself what would happen if just once I stuck to my guns, insisted on having my own way. I won’t have to wonder if he’d dump me, or tell me to lump it or leave, wonder what would happen to me without him. Give in to Tom, and it isn’t frightening, we aren’t quarreling anymore.

      Long after he tells me what an angel I am, and how much he loves me, and weren’t we silly for arguing, and how much his folks will appreciate his help, yes, and long after he falls asleep, I lie awake and look at myself naked and helpless in my own mind.

      I think of the little shop Annie runs. It’s in the front half of an old house at Ester, not that far from the Malemute Saloon of Robert Service fame. Not that far for me to drive, even when the roads are white with packed snow-ice and my headlights cut through the black Alaska day. It is a warm place, a wood stove in the center of the room, and then all the bins full of nuts and seeds and organic grains and little cans full of spices and bright boxes of teas with wonderful names like Dragon’s Mane and Orchard Spice, teas that Annie mixes herself in the tiny back rooms. It is an alchemist’s shop for food, a place where the ordinary becomes gold. The walls are planks