the office. They know I’m married, they know I have kids; they’re just looking for an excuse to put me on the mommy track.”
“I thought you liked the SAC—”
“Yeah, but everybody else. I promise you. It won’t be like this forever.” She reached for him, stroked his face. “Come here, you. I’ll let you make it up to me for giving me a hard time.”
Thus the conversation ended.
But the next morning, as he thought about what she’d said, Brian knew she was lying. Both to him and herself. She would be working eleven-, twelve-, thirteen-hour days for years. Not just because she loved the job. Though she did. But because she wanted to win, and to win at a particularly male game.
Brian didn’t feel jealous, not exactly. Sure, the bureau had plenty of good-looking guys. But Becks knew an office romance would blow up her career even faster than asking for overtime. She wasn’t the cheating type. Too practical.
No, Rebecca wasn’t cheating on him with any agent in particular. She was cheating on him with the job. The real cost to their relationship came in what they didn’t do. They had no time to themselves, because when she was home she wanted to hang out with the kids. Brian understood. Honestly, she should hang out with the kids. Kira and Tony craved time with her.
So their marriage was an afterthought. Which didn’t matter most of the time. Brian was comfortable alone. He’d spent years by himself. Back then he’d distracted himself with one-night stands. Today he had the kids. If weeks or a month passed when he and Becks didn’t have a real conversation, hey, so be it.
But he couldn’t escape the realization that if they weren’t growing together, they were growing apart. Maybe it sounded all Oprah-y, but it was true. Marriage required compromise. A lot of compromise. Love wasn’t enough. You had to like your spouse too, or the daily frictions of living together could be maddening.
She constantly left the lights on all over the house. A small thing, but it drove him nuts. She wasted money on clothes, then complained about their credit card bills. On the nights she did come home on time, she always wanted to take the kids to restaurants. She justified going out by saying he shouldn’t have to cook, but he liked to cook.
He knew he did things that annoyed her too—beyond the big thing, the not making enough money thing. He cracked his knuckles constantly. He cooked mac and cheese too often. He let the kids watch TV more than she liked. Fine. Let her take care of them six days a week, see how often she turned on the television.
None of these complaints was a deal breaker. Even all together, they weren’t deal breakers. They were more like slow leaks, rotting the marital walls from the inside out. If a storm came, a bad one, they’d regret not having done the maintenance.
But as long as he didn’t think too hard, he could convince himself they were fine. And Becks was making the most of her career chances. She was deep into this undercover investigation. It dragged on for a while, but in the end she brought the case home. Mess with the Becks, die like the rest.
Brian sometimes wondered what had really happened at the dinner with Draymond Sullivan when everything clipped into place. When she came home the next morning she didn’t say a word, just hung on to him like a shipwrecked sailor grabbing a raft.
Then they decided to move. She pretended to ask his opinion, but he knew as soon as she raised the issue he didn’t have a choice. No matter that he and the kids liked Birmingham. Becks told him she had to go. The city was too dangerous after her work busting the Pablo Escobar of Alabama real estate.
He was almost sure the real reason she wanted to leave was because she thought she was too big for the Birmingham office now, needed to kick her career up a notch. He ought to be proud of her, but he couldn’t help feeling he was turning into a supporting actor in the movie of her life. Rebecca Unsworth, Crimefighter. He was the spouse who shows up in a couple of scenes to humanize the lead character and then disappears until the end.
Worse, he wasn’t sure Becks saw the movie any differently. Or that she cared.