He leaned forward with a box of tissues, and she plucked one free. She blew her nose and held out her hands in exasperation. “He wanted to be a musician, and I always supported his dreams. He had incredible talent. I mean, I can barely yodel, but he could make music out of a pair of spoons and a shoe. Sometimes talent isn’t enough, you know?”
“Could you expand?”
“Nash rarely took gigs in town, because his family has this old vendetta about the local pub. It’s stupid. He could have played there every week. We could have used the extra income. It would have gotten him exposure.”
“The local pub? Do you mean O’Malley’s?”
“Yes, that’s his family. He’s an O’Malley. They don’t go in there. But how the hell is anyone supposed to discover his talent if he’s just playing songs in our living room and around our firepit? Two years ago, Center County only had one bar. There weren’t all these other places like there are now. I told him to apply to other towns. I would have traveled with him. We were waiting to have children, because he was supposed to eventually go on tour. But how can anyone go on tour with a car that can barely make it across town? He swore he’d replace the tires. He swore to me! It was the only thing I said we needed that Christmas!”
“Did he?”
She pressed her nose into the ruined Kleenex. “No. He bought a guitar. Another instrument.”
Something in her chest seemed to rupture. A volcanic burn singed up her throat, and she feared she’d get sick right there in her new therapist’s office. Spreading her knees, she dropped her head between her legs and massaged her temples.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, unable to stave off her tears.
“There’s no need to apologize. There’s no judgment here.” He held the tissues within her ducked view, and this time she took the whole box.
“If he would have just listened to me.” She hiccupped, flinging her head upright. “Everything was a fight.” Crumpled tissues gathered on her lap. “One time he replaced the lightbulb on the front porch. Once. Why couldn’t he keep up with that stuff? I did! I went to the market every week. I made sure we never ran out of the necessities. Even when we were tight on money, I made sure the bills got paid, skimping on groceries and buying generic cereal.”
“Were finances a stress point in your marriage?”
“We bought a house at auction. It was cheap, but it was still a commitment, one we probably weren’t ready for.”
“Do you work?”
“At Restaurant Supply. I make next to nothing, but we were never materialistic people. I was happy so long as we were safe, you know?”
“And Nash?”
The truth ground inside of her with unwanted honesty. “He always wanted more. I’d say we couldn’t afford something, and he’d throw a fit about how everyone else had luxuries. Sometimes it made me feel awful. I was happy with our simple life, but when he wanted something, it became clear our small-town world wasn’t enough for him. And I worried, maybe one day, I…” She swallowed. “What if one day I wasn’t enough?”
“When he would express these desires for luxuries you couldn’t always afford, how would you respond?”
She sniffled and dropped her gaze. The tissues littering her lap blurred behind a fresh wall of tears. “There was no point in fighting with him. I wanted him to be happy. Content. So I’d apply for a new credit card and do whatever I could do to get him that thing he needed to feel better about his life.”
“Did Nash work?”
“His dad owned a shoe store, and he worked there on and off, but it eventually went out of business. Nash said it was the perfect motivation to get out there and start touring.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No.”
He made a quick note in his book, but she lost interest in seeing what his interpretation might be. Drained from crying, she shut her eyes and took in a few deep breaths.
“How are finances now?”
She shrugged. “His parents had a small life insurance policy for him, so the house is paid off. I was able to clear up our credit card debt, too. But I don’t rely on what’s left of that money. I hate it.”
“That may change with time.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t need it. I need my husband. I can’t imagine ever spending it on myself, so it just sits there like a painful reminder, a payment for my life and his. Sometimes I feel like we weren’t worth that much.”
Nash was. He was worth more. But she… Her life seemed worthless the longer it dragged on.
“When was the last time you purchased a luxury for yourself, Maggie?”
She blinked stupidly, unable to recall. “I don’t know.”
“Anything. Any large or small ticket item that made you happy despite the cost.”