Where I Can't Reach

I lied to my husband for ten days. The other day the handle came off the kitchen cupboard door right into my palm. I put it in the spoon drawer and said nothing. I opened the cupboard through the neighbouring door, reached for my cup the long way round, anything not to ask: fix it, please. During the day he went looking for a teaspoon and found the handle. - How long has this been in here? - Ten days. He looked at me and, without asking anything, brought a screwdriver.

I'm good at hinting. Sighing next to a heavy bag. Saying "it's nothing" in a way that lets you hear the opposite. Leaving something broken in plain sight and waiting. If a person loves you, I thought, they'll see it themselves. He screwed the handle back on, tugged the door. - It holds. Now talk. - About what? - Whatever it is you've been following me around the apartment with all evening. - Nothing. Even to me it sounded unconvincing.

He sat down on the floor, his back against the cupboard. - I don't know what's going on in your head. - Guess. - I'm tired of guessing. I just want to know. I opened my mouth to tell him "nothing" one more time. As a child, I never called anyone when I couldn't reach a cup on the top shelf. I dragged the stool over myself. Once I fell and split my knee badly. Mama came running at the crash: - Why on earth didn't you call? I didn't know then either.

Before bed, I decided to talk to him. - Don't go to the river on Saturday, - I said. He silently turned to me with sleepy eyes. - Stay with me. This week has worn me out. I want one day together. Valentyn set his phone down on the nightstand by the bed. - On Saturday I'm going. I need those few hours to myself. If I don't go, I'll spend the whole day angry and silent.

I waited for the shame to come, for the urge to say: "Oh, I was only joking." Out of habit I said nothing, and he didn't take anything back either. We just lay in bed, and his "no" stayed a "no". All that was left for me was to nod. Then I said: - Then scratch my back. He smiled. I love his smile so much. - What? - Between the shoulder blades. I can't reach there myself. I was already about to laugh and take the request back, but he sat up.

- Where? - A little higher. - Here? - To the left. - Like this? - Yes. I pressed my head into the pillow. A drop appeared on my cheek, then another. - Are you crying? - No. I swallowed. - Yes. His fingers stopped. - Should I keep going? - Yes. He kept going. I lay there thinking about the handle I had kept silent about for ten days. His movements made it hard to breathe, but I didn't want him to stop. - I love you, - I said into the pillow.

Behind my back there was a short silence. - I'm here, - he said. I wiped my cheek with my palm. - And one more thing. - Go on. - On Sunday, when you come back from the river, make me coffee. The good kind, with cardamom. - All right. - Just don't forget. - I won't. He took his phone from the nightstand, but he was looking me in the eyes. - What else around here is holding on by a wing and a prayer?

Before, I would definitely have said "nothing". But this time I thought for an extra second. - The overhead cupboard. Valentyn nodded - well, why not, I had named something perfectly ordinary, hadn't I? And probably that's all it was. In the morning I put the kettle on. Behind me a screwdriver clinked, then something creaked softly above the door. When the water boiled, I went over to the cupboard. Took hold of the new handle. Opened it on the first try.

Got out my blue cup, then his. - Sugar? - I asked. - One spoon. - Milk? - Just a splash. I set the two cups on the table, and I never again left anything in plain sight, waiting for him to guess on his own.