King: Should.
* * *
I call him but he doesn’t answer.
Oh my God, I will freaking kill him.
* * *
Me: Answer your phone.
* * *
His reply isn’t instant but it does come.
* * *
King: I’m in the middle of sorting out some shit.
Me: Well if you don’t answer your phone or call me, you’re gonna be sorting out a whole heap of shit you don’t wanna be sorting out.
* * *
A couple of minutes pass, in which my chest tightens with annoyance, frustration, and the exhaustion I’m feeling from the kids. From the heat. From life.
And then his call comes through.
I answer it like my life is ending and he’s my lifeline. “I love you, King, but seriously you’re testing that love and if you don’t make it home before dinner I may—”
“What’s going on there?”
“Are you serious right now? What’s going on? If you want a list, I’ll be happy to give it to you, but you’ll need longer than a couple of minutes to hear it. Maybe you’d like me to text it to you. I know you’re not about phone calls this week.” The high-pitched tone that has taken over my voice is one I hate and wish I couldn’t hear right now, but I can’t stop myself even if I tried. It’s official and I accept it: this Christmas, I’m that crazy woman who can’t keep her shit together.
“Fuck, Lily—”
“Don’t you say it, King. I’m not in the mood to hear it today.”
“Well it’s fucking true, so maybe you need to hear it.”
Apparently Christmas brings out the crazy in me. Not just this year, but every year. Or so King likes to tell me. My family backs him on this and call it the Christmas Crazies. And while I might accept that this year I’m a crazy woman—because of people and circumstances outside of my control—I don’t need to hear King go on about it like it’s a freaking given every year.
“I’ll tell you what I need to hear. I need to hear you say you’ll definitely be home for our Christmas dinner tonight. That’s it. I’ll take care of everything else that still needs to be done for tomorrow and I’ll make sure the swing set is built so long as you just get home.” I pause for a moment and my voice softens as I add, “I need you here, King.”
Silence for a beat before he says, “I’ll be there. Everything is taken care of for tomorrow and I’ll build that swing set tonight. I don’t want you to worry about any of that shit; I’ve got it covered.”
And just like that, the tightening in my chest eases. As much as he tests me and argues with me and pushes my limits, my husband never lets me down. When he says he’ll do something, he’ll move heaven and hell to deliver on his promise. I just needed to hear him say it.
“I love you.”
“I’ll be on the road all day.” That’s King speak for “don’t fucking call me unless it’s urgent”.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
The line goes dead as he ends the call. I’ve only got one more thing to tell him.
* * *
Me: I hope you’re planning on being home for many days. I have many filthy things I want you to do to me.