Page 118 of Penalty Shot

“Yes, of course. I just—”

“What difference would it make where you wrote?” I interrupt.

“I’m sorry, what?” She takes a step back. “Did you just say it doesn’t matter where I am?”

“All I’m saying is, your work is portable and mine isn’t.”

Somehow my anxiety has turned into something heavier. Doubt. Panic. Why can’t she see that this is possible if she gave us a chance? No half measures. All in.

“I think what you’re saying is your work is more important.”

“Don’t twist my words, Elise. Please, be honest. You’ve moved out of town for work before, haven’t you? I thought you barely stayed in Columbus during the summer, traveling to join any theater organization that’ll have you.”

A sound between a gasp and a choke makes me aware of my wrong choice of words.

“I mean that’slucky enoughto have you. My point is, moving is part of being an artist, isn’t it?”

“Randall,” she mumbles, tight-lipped, “I don’t think we’re in the right head space to talk about this.”

“All I’m saying is,” I barrel forward, “how is moving to Vancouver different if you can continue with your plays? Maybe not as a director at the moment, but as a writer. You could do that while I support you.”

“And there it is,” she says with her arms up in frustration.

“What?”

“I’ve seen this before. Miles pulled exactly the same thing, asking me to move in with him and then throwing it in my face that he made more money than I did.”

“What the fuck, Elise, that’s bullshit! I’m nothing like that asshole. You think I’m even thinking about money right now when I can’t see past not living with you?!”

“This is starting to feel very much like emotional blackmail.”

“What the fuck!”

“Isn’t that what you’re saying? If you leave without me, hell will break lose.”

I shrug because that is exactly what I’m saying.

“And you don’t see what’s wrong with that? How it puts me in an impossible situation because that’s not what we agreed to. Moving in together is already a big step. Moving across the country is a leap. I’ll never live up to that level of expectation, Randall.”

“Let’s back up. My only expectation is thatyoubeyou. You’re everything to me exactly the way you are.”

She sighs and her eyes flutter closed.

“I need to think about what you’re asking me, OK?”

“Nothing is keeping you back here.”

“Except my family. And the English department course I’m creating.”

“I doubt Geraldine would appreciate being used as an excuse. And that course is a temporary teaching gig, Elise. You can get that anywhere.”

“How interesting. I didn’t realize you were an expert on my family life and career choices,” she drones sarcastically.

I’m fucking up, but I’m like an avalanche on an ever-steeper mountain, increasingly destructive on its way down, down, down.

“If I have to choose between my career and my life with you, fuck hockey.”

“Randall, I would never force you into such an impossible choice!” She reaches over to clutch my forearm. I’m about to pull her in, but a cloud of doubt darkens her expression.