The first time she said it, it didn’t register since he was still trying to figure out the basis for this sudden discussion. But he heard it the second time, and stopped her after the third.

“What do you mean, we need to integrate our lives?”

She halted mid-sentence, the words hanging in the air between them, giving him a quizzical look.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? Haven’t you been listening? As usual.”

It was the addendum that came close to setting him off, but he fought back the anger. He was growing tired of being accused of this, blamed for that and doing things–or not–as usual. It had become a verbal pin that she pricked him with whenever he didn’t react as she desired. But accuse her of control, and she freaked out: Her own mother had been a control monster, she would never allow herself to be like that.

Yet here she was now explaining to him, as if to a recalcitrant child, about how they must integrate their lives, that she had waited long enough for him to make her fully part of his world. That she should meet all of his friends, be introduced to his family—especially his two daughters. That she should be brought fully and totally into his existence. Without that, she proclaimed, they could never expect or enjoy complete intimacy.

He looked above her head where those words swirled and dived like marauding crows, densely black with meaning. What he was pondering, suddenly, was whether he truly wanted to merge his life into this woman. Yes, he knew he liked her, admired her abilities, found her presence comforting, and her physical touch soothing and fulfilling. He had even told her, at least once or twice, that he loved her, realizing later it was more because he felt he had to then that he actually felt that way. It hadn’t appeared to do any harm, had, in fact, seemed to draw her closer. The question now suddenly was whether he was willing to commit to an integration of lives.

Something about the term made him smile, and she pounced. “What’s so funny about that?” she said, her tone tightening.

“Oh, I guess I just was struck that integrating our lives sounded liked a business merger, you know, two companies coming together for mutual gain.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

He paused. “Well, it just seems a little cold and clinical, don’t you think?”

“A merger of equals for mutual benefit is a good thing. Wouldn’t you agree with that?”

“I suppose.”

“Then isn’t that what we have here, a merger of two people who share things and want to be together, bound together?”

Another phrase that stopped him—to be bound together. He wasn’t sure what he truly thought about it, but again he smiled, and again she pounced.

“Now what’s funny?” she said, a little fury snapping the words this time.

He gave her what he considered his best boyish grin. “Oh, I don’t know, it just struck me as, well, you know, kind of kinky in a weird way. You know, bound together.”

She didn’t laugh, but blew out a long, whistling breath. Then she slowly and methodically explained to him again the theory of the integration of their lives, the benefits and the reasons. There were words there that seemed odd in her mouth, unnatural to her.

He interrupted. “Did you see your therapist today, the female one?”

Her brows knitted. “Yes. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he said, noticing that the black crows were flying south.

About the Author

Gary Carter

Based in North Carolina, Gary Carter is a writer and editor whose most recently published work is Eliot’s Tale, a reverse coming-of-age road trip novel that contemplates things done and left undone.