Then I snatched my keys off the table and exited, stage right, vision blackening at the edges with rage. A door slammed behind me.
I didn’t drive far. The doctor in me said I shouldn’t drive at all, but I ignored him. Anger can intoxicate and distract you as much as alcohol. Adrenaline shook my hands hard enough that I couldn’t flip the rearview mirror to night mode without knocking it out of position, which sucked when a car pulled in behind me. I admitted defeat and turned into the parking lot of my least-favorite grocery store to sulk at the back of the lot.
The car drove past me to go park near the store entrance. Light flooded my car for a brief moment before it left me in the dark again. A symbol for my anger, in a way, that bright, blinding flash before the cooler darkness fell. I gripped the steering wheel, sucking in deep gulps of air to force my adrenaline down.
It didn’t work. Unable to sit still, I climbed out of the car. Movement helped. Unrestricted air flow helped. The initial heat of anger cooled as tilted my head toward the sky and breathed.
“Well, that went well,” I said to the stars.
Time to break this down into tiny points, just like the remote sparkles in the sky. First point: I did nothing wrong in that conversation. I played it over in my head and decided that, while I was sure I could have said other words or chosen different reactions, I hadn’t earned what he’d said. That fight had been all on him.
Second point: He’d been scared and ashamed, which he’d converted into anger. Our minds do this to us sometimes. We can’t deal with the fear, and holding the shame feels like cuddling hot coals, so we turn it into rage and we throw it at someone else. Displacement anger turns even the best of us into complete assholes.
I didn’t know how to defuse it in Jackson. We didn’t know each other that well yet. He’d never lashed out this way, and I had no template to guide me through it. I would have to solve it through trial and error, and tonight, we’d errored out bigtime.
Unless. The phone in my pocket was dead, because of course it was, but I’d left a charger in the center console of my Subaru. I hopped up on the hood of my car and swore at my phone’s charging port until it decided the plug had seatedjust soand would thusly accept a charge out of the goodness of its wretched heart.
Six messages from Joan piled up when the phone connected to the cellular service. I swiped them all off the screen and texted Jiaying.
“Hey. It’s Sebastian. Sorry to bother you.”
Jiaying replied,“Hey, Sebastian. You’re never a bother. What’s up?”
“Does Xasan ever pick fights with you when he’s upset?”
“No. I pick fights with him.”
I chuckled at that and sent a laughing emoji.“Productive. When you do that, what do you want him to do for you?”
“Xasan and I have known each other for years. He just tells me I’m hiding behind anger. I know what he means and it snaps me out of it.”
Married couples often have an entire language between them. My guts clenched as I hoped Jackson and I would have time to develop one of our own. First fights are scary, and a panicky, insecure part of me worried he’d use it as an excuse to leave me. Again, not helpful, but our brains are jerks.
“Not sure I can do that with Jackson. Suggestions?”
“Time.”The word popped up on my screen, followed by,“Understanding. Forgiveness. Jackson is a good man. I’ve known him for years. He’ll realize he was an asshole.”
“I hope so. Went on an ice cream run to cool off.”
“He likes butter pecan.”
“Thanks.”I hadn’t known that.
There wasso muchI didn’t know. So muchhedidn’t know. Logically, we needed more time to learn about each other, but logic bites and even if I’m a scientist, I hate it sometimes. I wanted to know everything about himright now. I wanted him to love meright now.I wanted to have a tantrum like a preschoolerright now.
None of those happened. I spent about ten minutes sitting on the hood of my car, looking at the stars and wishing for that conniption. Then I let the emotions well up, told them,I see you and I know you’re there, and allowed them ease away.
Jackson would cool off. I would go home and listen to understand, not listen to respond. We would talk about what he felt ready to discuss, and I would gently suggest he talk about tonight with his therapist for an outside opinion. This, too, would pass.
My phone vibrated in my hand. I looked at it with the hopes that Jackson had reached out to start that delicious reconciliation process. No dice.
Joan, again.“Please, Bastian.”
That woman never lacked in the determination department. I ignored her and walked across the parking lot to the store. Ice cream was promised, and ice cream would be delivered.
My damned phone vibrated the entire time I was in the store. Messages imploring me to answer popped up as I Googled the ratings on two different varieties of butter pecan. One spot on my leg went numb with the vibration as I checked out at the self-service line with two pints of gourmet ice cream.
Then my phone actually rang, and I knew this had gotten out of hand. I stopped in the middle of the near-deserted parking lot, dead center in one of the lanes between rows of spaces, and angrily poked at my phone to send a text.