But Inside I'm Screaming

Alex’s look made her reach for the robe she’d tossed in a mock-careless way onto the overstuffed chair.

“What?” she asked, already embarrassed and defensive.

Alex gulped. It was the first time Isabel saw him speechless. “I made these reservations a month ago. It’s really hard to get in. Let’s just go, okay?”

He was already out the door.

Twenty-Nine

“Isabel? Where are you?” Alex hollered as he walked through the front door of their apartment. “I’ve got news.”

“I’m in here,” Isabel answered, her tense shoulders involuntarily relaxing at the sound of Alex in a good mood. She had gotten home from work early and was flipping TV channels, comparing the lead stories on the different network newscasts.

“I got the backing,” Alex announced.

“What? Oh, my God.” Isabel leaped from the couch into Alex’s arms. “Tell me.”

“Terry called me into his office about an hour ago—can we turn this off?” His tone was more demanding than inquisitive. “He said the Australians came through. Apparently they’re sure they want to open a place here in the States and they liked my proposal.”

“Wow. That’s unbelievable! Just like that…” Isabel was happy to see him so excited. He’d been in a foul mood for weeks.

“Yeah, well, I guess they thought it was a good idea.” Alex, pleased with himself, plopped down on the couch next to Isabel. “It’s going to be rotten hours—that’s the only drawback. Just until the crowds even out.”

“So what kind of time will you need to spend there? You’d be the boss, the owner, right? You can go in whenever you want.”

“They only want to do it if I can be hands-on at the bar, you know, on the floor, getting to know the regulars.”

“And hands-on means you’ve got to work every night?”

Isabel knew he needed her to be happy for him. But she pressed on.

“We’ll never see each other, you know.”

“Here’s what I was thinking about that.” Alex leaned forward excitedly. “I was thinking you could get a morning job and then we’d both be on the same schedule and we’d have the entire day together.”

“Honey, I’m so happy for you. Really. But I’ve just gotten the 5:00 p.m. slot and it’ll look great on my resume. The networks won’t even glance at me if I don’t have evening newscast experience. But just because I don’t want the early shift doesn’t mean you shouldn’t move forward with your own place. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Isabel was trying to keep it light but couldn’t resist adding, “I just worry that we’ll never see each other.”

Alex was quiet for a moment. He hunched forward in his seat, bowed his head and placed his fingertips together as if he were praying. When he looked up Isabel felt a chill.

“Why do you have to spoil it? Why do you have to be so negative about something I’m so happy about?”

Isabel and Alex had an unspoken rhythm to their disagreements. Isabel could push him—but only to a point. She was always the one to back down first. When she had insisted she didn’t want to eat barbecue for dinner she’d had a CD thrown at her, nicking her forehead and causing blood flow. Sensing that a mood swing was imminent, Isabel abandoned her doubts.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I am happy for you. And we will see each other—I was just playing the devil’s advocate. I am so proud of you.” Isabel hugged Alex. Within seconds he went back to being enthusiastic.

“But we haven’t really talked in weeks!” Isabel leaned on the bed as Alex closed the curtains to block out the bright noonday sun.

“Isabel, give me a fucking break!” he snapped. “Are you completely deaf? I told you I’m taking a nap. Get out!”

Alex pulled his eye mask from the bedside table and slipped it over his head.

“But…”

“‘But’ nothing, Isabel—Jesus Christ! I’m exhausted. Can’t you just let me catch up on sleep? Jesus.”

“I knew this was going to happen.” Isabel wouldn’t let up, even though the eye mask was firmly in place. “I knew we’d never see each other. I’m just trying to talk to you for five minutes. Aren’t you even wondering what I’m doing home at this hour? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Isabel.” His stock warning. He sat up in bed and pushed his eye mask up to his forehead. “I’m going to sleep now. When I wake up, we’ll talk—hell, we’ll do an Irish jig, I don’t give a flying fuck— but right now I am going to sleep. Get out of this bedroom!”

“But I need to tell you something.”

“Get out.”

Isabel backed out of the unnaturally dark bedroom into the sunny living room. She surveyed the room filled with pricey decorations they could not afford. They were living beyond his means and Alex didn’t seem to care. But that would have to end. As she fixed her stare on the huge mainframe computer Alex had just spent thousands of dollars on, she knew his spending would be curbed by sheer necessity. He wouldn’t like it, though, and Isabel shivered at the thought of breaking the news.

“You what?”

“I lost my job,” Isabel said, humiliated at having to repeat it.

“What’d you do?” Alex sneered in an accusing tone of voice.

Isabel looked up, shocked. “What do you mean ‘what’d I do’? It’s not my fault, Alex! The station just got sold and the new owners are cutting back. They want to bring in their own people. Everyone’s been speculating about this for months—ever since the sale.”

“Yeah, but why you? How come they fired you? I’ve been telling you to stay on your toes. What’ve I been telling you? I specifically told you that you need to look good and do good—”

“I always do my best…”

“Was I finished talking? I don’t think I was finished talking yet, do you?”

“You know what? Fuck you, Alex.”

Alex was still. Isabel gulped hard.

“I was fired. It wasn’t my fault. I know you’re going to say I’m playing the victim again—blah, blah, blah—but I don’t care. I’m not a victim. It wasn’t personal and I know that. So just get over yourself.”

Alex stared at his wife.

Alex took a step forward. “‘Get over myself?’ Is that what you just said? Get over myself? What, may I ask, is that supposed to mean?”

Isabel took a step backward.

“I don’t have the energy for this right now, Alex—okay? Please?”

Alex took another step toward her and Isabel knew it was time to back down.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, careful to stick to the script of their arguments.

“Yeah, you’re sorry. You’re sorry,” he interrupted. “You deserved it, you know that? The more I think about it, the more I realize you deserved it. Why? Because you don’t have the hunger. Deep down inside you know that Mommy and Daddy will cushion your fall so you aren’t hungry for the paycheck. Some people have to work for a living, you know that?”

“Alex, please…”

“Please? Please?” He slapped Isabel so hard across her face that she fell to the floor.

“Did you honestly think you could talk to me that way and get away with it?”