Green Card

by Elizabeth Adams

  “I just can’t understand how a man with thumbs, a grown man who’s lived on his own for over a decade, who is supposedly intelligent enough to run an entire COMPANY, can’t manage to put a few dishes in a dishwasher!”

  “Dishwasher?”

  “Yes! It’s this miraculous machine that spurts water and soap and cleans dishes, hence the name dish-washer!” she said emphatically while her hands gestured wildly.

  “What—”

  “And why on earth would you think I want to do it? Does something about me just scream ‘give me your dirty dishes’? Do I seem bored? Do you really think I don’t have anything better to do? I’m a very busy woman! An intelligent woman who has better things to do than scrub the crusted up granola off your dirty dishes!” She was nearly yelling now, her face bright pink and her heart pounding.

  Will was completely lost and had no idea what was happening, but he had the distinct impression he was losing this argument. “I never said you weren’t intelligent,” he retorted.

  “Really? You didn’t? You didn’t think that leaving your mess on the counter was sending a message? You didn’t think that I would notice how you freely leave things lying around in the kitchen, knowing full well I spend most of my time in here, with no regard for how it might affect my day or make me feel? Really?” She gripped the edge of the counter and deliberately lowered her voice. “I graduated summa cum laude from NYU and have a 4.0 at one of the most respected universities in this country. I am not your maid. Cleaning is not in the contract.”

  With that, she grabbed her books and went to her room, Will staring after her in utter bewilderment. A few minutes later, he grabbed his keys and left.

  *

  Liz felt terrible for snapping at Will, but not at first. First, she stomped around her room. When she heard him leave, she quickly looked up the nearest kickboxing class, saw there was one starting in ten minutes, changed her clothes and sprinted the two blocks to make it on time.

  After burning a few hundred calories, she felt better—calmer, more relaxed, and with a telling pain in her lower back. She called Laura as she walked down the steps at the studio.

  “Hey Lizzy, what’s up?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Uh oh. What’s going on?”

  “I just went all pre-menstrual on Will.”

  “Oh, God. What happened?” Laura asked.

  “Well, I met Jenny yesterday and she was talking about how men take over our lives and suck us in until we become like our mothers, and then tonight I was brewing about it all and saw his dirty dishes in the sink and when he walked in I just lost it.” She sighed.

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Laura said through a strangled laugh. “I would have loved to have seen you in all your hormonal glory ripping him a new one. Poor William! What did he do?”

  “Nothing, well, he didn’t really have a chance.” She paused as she stepped into the corner market. “I stomped off to my room and two minutes later he left. I went straight to kickboxing and haven’t gone home yet.” She quickly grabbed a few bars of chocolate, paid, and left.

  “Wow. Okay. What are you going to say when you get there?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I should just apologize, but it does actually bother me that he doesn’t ever do his dishes, or wipe the counters, or put away the blankets in the living room. He’s fine to just leave everything until the housekeeper comes to clean up after him. But in the meantime, I have to live with it and look at his shit everywhere.” She felt herself getting riled up again and took a deep breath. “But I definitely could have said it better. Argh! Is this our first fight?”

  “Sounds like it. Except he didn’t really fight back, so maybe not.”

  “Oh, God! I hate to think what I’m going home to. Do you think he’ll yell? He must be mad. Do you think he’s mad? He’s got to be mad.”

  “Of course he’s mad. It’s what he does with it you should be worried about. Good luck, kid.”

  “Thanks,” Liz said ruefully.

  “Don’t feel too bad. PMS can make anyone a little crazy. I’m not going to lie, I once put Nutella on a meat-lover’s pizza.”

  Liz barked out a laugh. “And I thought my cravings were weird.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

  “Well, I’m here. Time to face the music.” She looked up at her building with trepidation.

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes. And hey,” she said “it’ll be all right. Just explain it was the monster talking and that you are a reasonable person most of the month.”

  “Thanks. Night, Laura.” She put her phone in her pocket and went upstairs. “You can do this, Lizzy. Chin up,” she told herself.

  Liz walked into the apartment with a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She flipped on the light and listened for sounds of Will. The apartment was silent. The clock on the wall said it was just after ten o’clock. She’d never known Will to stay out this late. Where had he gone? Was he already asleep in his room? That would have been equally unusual.

  She crept down the hall toward Will’s room, her stomach in knots. His door was cracked and there was a faint blue light shining. She listened carefully but heard nothing. She tapped twice on the door.

  “Will?” she called.

  “Yes?”

  His voice held no warmth, not that she had expected it to, but the confirmation made her cringe. She pushed the door open slightly and looked in.

  “Can I come in?”

  He nodded silently. She took two small steps into the dim room and thought he looked a little like Clark Kent sitting in bed with his ruffled hair, black rimmed reading glasses, and old-fashioned pajamas. She had the sudden thought that he was one of the few men who could wear grandpa pajamas and glasses and still look sexy as hell. She blushed from her train of thought and made her hormone drenched mind focus on the issue at hand.

  He was watching her steadily, his face blank and his eyes cold in the blue light reflected from his laptop. There were no other lights on in the room and she was somehow comforted by the idea that he couldn’t see her very well.

  “I wanted to apologize, for earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m really hormonal and I had a rough week studying, and then Jen said something that got me all in a tizzy and the next thing I know I’m yelling at you. I’m really sorry—it was uncalled for.”

  “Thank you for the apology.” He returned his gaze to the screen in front of him and began typing.

  She waited.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He continued to type uninterrupted. “What else did you expect me to say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How about, I forgive you, or let’s pretend it never happened, or it’s understandable, PMS happens to everyone. You could laugh, or apologize for your part.” She tried not to sound sarcastic, but couldn’t help it.

  He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “So you apologize, then immediately expect me to say it wasn’t necessary?”

  She huffed. “Not exactly, but… sort of. Look, I know I was nasty and I definitely overreacted, but I didn’t do it out of the clear blue nowhere.”

  He raised his brows in question but she had clamped down on her lips and wasn’t opening them until he said something.

  “All right, I’ll bite. What set you off, Ms. Barrett?”

  Oh, shit, he must be really mad, she thought.

  “What did I do in the sixty seconds I had been home that provoked such a display?”

  She breathed deeply.

  “What?” He stared at her and removed his glasses. “No choice words for me? You don’t want to enquire about the presence of any essential body parts? I can save you the trouble and assure you that I have all my fingers and toes and that everything is in fine working order,” he said in clipped tones.

  Liz stared at him, a growing sense of panic coming over her. They’d been married less than three months. They couldn’t start fighti
ng and being nasty now. If this went any further, how would they recover? Seized by a sudden need to stop this argument before it got any worse, she stepped farther into the room and walked over to his side of the bed, sitting next to him. He looked at her with surprise and she threw her arms around his neck.

  “I’m sorry, Will. I don’t want to fight,” she said. “Can we try this again?”

  It took him a moment to respond. He wrapped his arms around her slowly and finally nodded yes, not sure what she was asking but feeling his anger rapidly dissipate.

  She leaned back and looked him in the eye, her hands holding his between them.

  “What I should have said when you got home this afternoon was this: Will, it bothers me that you leave dirty dishes on the counter and in the sink instead of putting them into the dishwasher. It sends the message that you expect me to do it or just don’t care, and that isn’t fair. I would also appreciate it if you could wipe your crumbs off the counter, especially the island bar where I sit so much.” She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes, as if this required great effort.

  Will continued looking at her and finally took one hand from her grasp and touched her shoulder. It was rigid and tight. “Liz,” she opened her eyes and looked at him, “this is really important to you, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, unshed tears in her eyes.

  “I won’t pretend to understand what happened before, but I can respect your request. I might not always do it, but I will try to put my dishes in the dishwasher. Okay?”

  He caught a tear that escaped down her cheek with his finger. “Don’t cry, Lizzy. Please.”

  She sniffled. “I’m fine, really. I’m just so bloody hormonal!” He smiled at her adoption of his word. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m normally quite rational.”

  “I know. So,” he asked delicately, “is it like this every month?”

  She laughed and impulsively laid her head on his shoulder. “No. Actually, it’s hardly ever like this. Maybe two or three times a year. I was quite pleasant last month, remember?”

  “No, I don’t, which of course means you’re correct.” He awkwardly patted her back after a moment. “Better?”

  She raised her head from his shoulder. “Yes, thank you.”

  She got up and began to walk out of his room. When she got to the door, he spoke. “Liz,” he said quietly and seriously, “I’m sorry, too.”

  She smiled tiredly. “I forgive you.”

  They shared one last smile before she closed the door behind her and went to her own bedroom. With the assistance of a glass of water, a few painkillers, and a heating pad, she went to sleep.

  20

  Intimacy?

  Late August

  4 Months Married

  Liz looked around in confusion, wondering why she’d woken up in the living room. She smacked her lips in distaste and felt her face. Had she gone to bed with her make-up on? Her eyelashes felt caked together and the wire of her bra was digging into her ribs. She looked down and saw she still had on her cocktail dress from the night before.

  It all came flooding back to her and she remembered sitting with Will on the sofa, having a drink after they arrived home. William’s green card had arrived in the mail that day, complete with unflattering photo and the official USCIS stamp. They’d opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate, then they’d gone to an anniversary party for one of the board members and had gotten in after two in the morning. Too keyed up to sleep, they’d sat on the sofa with a night cap watching television until they were tired. Now she was regretting that last drink and the several that had come before it.

  She looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. Wow. She never slept this late. She must have been really tired. Thankfully her summer classes were over and she didn’t have anywhere to be until the fall semester started. She threw off the soft blanket she assumed Will had draped over her and stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. She peeled off her too-tight dress and the Spanx she had worn to make it fit and stepped under the hot stream. What we suffer for fashion.

  She wrapped her hair in a towel and padded to the kitchen in yoga pants and a tank top. Today would be a lazy day. She made a pot of tea, put a slice of bread in the toaster, and began washing a bowl of strawberries. Her breakfast complete, she checked the calendar. Apparently August was a busy time of year for Harper and the Taggston companies. They’d had an event every night for the last three nights and had four more scheduled over the next week. Tonight was the engagement party for the son of the president of some subsidiary she couldn’t remember. They had accepted because the father was an old friend of Will’s father’s and his son also worked for the company, though Liz had never met him. Apparently, he and Harper occasionally saw each other at the gym or something, but they were really going for the father.

  She sighed and went to check her closet for something to wear. Once her outfit was laid out, she settled onto the sofa to watch mind-numbing television while the rest of her woke up. An hour later she felt something itching and tried to ignore it. Two hours later, she felt something burning and knew she was in trouble.

  “Jenny, call me back as soon as you get this. Please.” She left the message and tried to wait patiently for Jen to call her back.

  Her sister was usually pretty quick to respond, but she was in the middle of organizing a 5K for her charity and might not get the message for a while. She sent Laura a quick text. Damn. Laura was trapped in court all day and had to work after. She briefly considered Sheila or Angie, but Angie was working two jobs this summer and Sheila lived way out in Brooklyn. She’d just have to go to the drug store herself. She walked slowly towards the door, trying to ignore the burning. She was reaching for her purse when the phone rang.

  “Jenny! Thank God!”

  “What’s up, Lizzy? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just need something from the drugstore and hoped you could help me out.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I would, but I’m stuck in the office for the rest of the day. Can you ask William?”

  “Yeah, sure, don’t worry about it. Talk to you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  Liz took a deep breath and continued walking slowly to the door. She made it into the hallway and was pressing the button for the elevator, bouncing from side to side, when she realized she wasn’t wearing a bra and was still in her slippers.

  “Crap!”

  She shuffled back into the apartment and went to her room to dress. After getting a bra and socks on, she gave up and decided to call William. Maybe she’d ask Evelyn to run to the drugstore and Will could just bring the bag home … without looking inside it. But then Evelyn would know and that would be awkward next time she saw her. They were friendly, but they weren’t that close.

  With a sigh, she picked up the phone and called Will.

  “Hi, babe,” he said as he answered the phone.

  He must be around people. He always called her babe when others were around.

  “Hey, Will, can you talk for a second?”

  “Yes, I’m just walking out of a meeting.”

  “Listen, I need something from the drugstore. Is there any way you could pick something up for me and run it home real quick?”

  “Actually, I was about to head out. This was my last meeting and I’ve been dragging all day.”

  “Yeah, we stayed out pretty late last night. So you can stop on the way home?”

  “Sure, no problem. What do you need? Are you sick? You sound puny.”

  “Um, I’m having a bit of a … feminine problem.”

  “Oh?” he asked curiously.

  “Yeah. Can you write this down?”

  “Just a sec. Okay, got a pen. What am I getting?”

  “Monistat 7. Not the three-day, it has to be the seven-day. It’ll be in the feminine needs aisle.”

  “Anything else?”

  “My pride, if you find it,” she mumbled.

  “Huh?”

  “No, that’s all I need.”

 
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

  Liz thanked him and hung up. That was easier than she’d thought. Will could be mature; why would she think differently? He had a sister after all. Maybe he was familiar with this sort of thing.

  Half an hour later, Will walked through the door with a white plastic bag in his hand.

  “Liz? I’m back,” he called.

  “In here,” she called from her room.

  He stood in the open doorway and let the bag swing from his extended finger. Liz was lying on the bed looking pitiful. “Here’s your stuff.”

  “Thanks.” She got up carefully and walked over to him, gingerly taking the bag from his hand and shuffling to the bathroom.

  “So what’s the problem anyway?” he asked as she was closing the bathroom door.

  “You don’t know?” she called.

  He looked around for a second, heard a flush, and waited until she finished washing her hands and opened the door.

  “No, I don’t know. I just asked the clerk for the Monistat, he handed it to me and I left. Is it your period?” he asked uneasily.

  “You don’t have to look so horrified. No, it isn’t my period. It’s much, much worse.” She flopped onto the bed and he saw a green package of something in the sheets. “I have a…” she mumbled into the pillow.

  “You have a what? Did you say infection? Do you need a doctor? And is that a bag of frozen peas in your bed?” he asked, confusion all over his face.

  “Ugh! Yes, I have an infection! No, I don’t need a doctor, and yes, this is a bag of frozen peas. It helps with the burning.”

  He watched in horrified fascination as she placed the peas between her legs and sighed in obvious relief.

  “Lizzy,” he began, drawing out her name, “what happened?”

  “Spanx! That’s what happened!”

  “Spanx?” he repeated, more confused than ever.

  “Yes! Spanx!” she said exasperatedly. “I slept in a pair of Spanx and now I have a yeast infection. A horrible, itching, burning, yeast infection!” She buried her head in the pillow as she finished.

  “What are spanx? And why did you sleep in them?”