Don't do as I say...

August: month of shortening days and tempers. On the way home from an otherwise pleasant trip the farmer’s market, Adam and I managed to get in a major fight. Or rather, we had a “discussion” that I “escalated” into something bigger than it needed to be. Yes, I did. But sometimes escalation is the only rational response. Especially to the partner who, in such "discussions," arrogantly regards himself as participant and umpire.

Who knows more about keeping a marriage healthy? The gal who’s had two of them? Or the guy who grew up watching his parents’ marriage sicken, bleed, and turn gangrenous?

For all his chilly reserve, Adam has the emotional fortitude of a Rolo. Which is why I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. “I think you’d just better stay far away from me for the rest of the day.”

I didn’t mean it literally. Frustrated to the point of craziness, I was calling for an end. In previous fights, Adam and I have retreated to our corners and come out hugging, tearful apologies on both sides.

But Adam got on his bike and rode to school. And he didn’t come home for twelve hours.

Too stubborn to phone him, but also too starving to wait dinner any longer, I finally drove to the grocery store at nine. When I returned home, he was in bed.