Chapter 8

Dennis had finished painting the walls and took a couple of steps back to admire his work. He had been working on this house for almost a year. The remodeling was almost over. He had bought it for Linda with the money he had saved working at the oil rig site.

He was confident that purchasing it would make Linda happy. It was her dream house.

“You have to tell her,” Paul Olson’s voice came from behind him. Dennis turned to find his foreman and friend looking at him from the entrance. “‘Hey, Linda, I bought you your dream house and I’ve been remodeling in my free time for almost a year.’”

Dennis shook his head. “It wouldn’t solve the problem.” He sighed. “At this point, it might even make the problem worse.”

Paul was the only person who knew about the house, out of necessity. He was helping him with the remodeling.

“Why?” Paul leaned against the post opposite Dennis.

“Because I kept money away from her and bought this house without consulting it with her. I’ve waited too long to tell her about this place She would see it as yet another thing I kept from her. Deeds won’t do it, Paul, she needs words.”

When Dennis arrived for their second therapy appointment, Linda was already inside the office.

Every day that passed made him even more determined to fix what was broken, by whatever means necessary. The other night, when Linda’s name had popped up on his phone’s screen, the world around him had come spinning back into motion.

“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, sitting down beside her on the floor in the pillow. “I had to take a shower.”

Yaron clapped his hands together and said, “Laughter. We all need it.” He split a speculative look between Linda and Dennis.

Dennis crossed his arms. He might have started to see the merit in this marriage counseling thing, especially after hearing how much Linda liked his letter, but that didn’t mean he’d stopped wanting to simply be alone with her. She needed words. He got that now and he was going to work on it. What else could they possibly iron out?

“During our first session, Dennis, you seemed almost startled when Linda laughed, which tells me it has been a while since you shared your humor with her.” Yaron raised an eyebrow at Linda. “Would you call that accurate?”

Linda dipped her head, but nodded, sending Dennis an almost apologetic look.

“Did you used to laugh together?”

“All the time,” Linda murmured. “He used to do this thing where he blew air into my neck and made kind of a...”

“Fart sound?” Yaron supplied.

A laugh huffed out of Linda. “Yes. Or he would tell me stories about the men he was working with at the oil rig and their habits.” Her eyes softened. “Yeah. We laughed all the time.”

“What about you, Dennis? Did Linda make you laugh?”

“Sure she did,” he said, meeting her eyes for a not-long enough moment. “She can imitate the Minion voice.” His lips jumped. “That was probably my favorite. She used to talk to me like a Minion when I was having a shitty day.”

Dennis caught a small, reminiscent smile from Linda and his heart missed a beat.

Yaron distracted him by pulling a giant bag of marshmallows out from behind his back, dangling it in midair. “Who’s up for a game of Chubby Bunny? My friend Daniel and I used to play it around the campfire. We always had a good belly laugh.”

Dennis twisted his mouth, but Linda’s eyes were shining with delight.

Yaron ripped open the bag and popped one of the extra-large marshmallows into his mouth, talking around it. “We build resentments toward our loved ones. Sometimes we’re not even aware of them. But they grow so strong, they prevent us from remembering what we loved about our spouses in the first place. Maybe one or both no longer wants to give their significant other the satisfaction of showing their amusement, so the other person stops trying. And the laughter dies.”

Yaron handed Linda the bag, which was a good move considering Dennis would have handed it right back. “We can fix this by laughing at ourselves. If we stop taking ourselves so seriously for a moment, our partner can do the same. There is relaxation and acceptance in laughter. It’s the anti-resentment drug. Like Jay Leno said, ‘You can’t stay mad at somebody who makes you laugh.’”

Dennis was still skeptical as hell about therapy, and this therapist in particular. Once upon a time, he might have stuffed his cheeks full of marshmallows to make Linda laugh, but the idea of doing it now, in front of a near-stranger, was so far outside his comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. The exercise also seemed inadequate. He didn’t want baby steps, he wanted her back. Wanted everything fixed now.

“Linda, I can see your husband is somewhat hesitant, which frankly I find shocking. Why don’t you begin?”

She blew out a slow breath. “So just stuff them in my cheeks?”

“Yeah, but instead of saying ‘Chubby Bunny’ try to talk like a Minion.”

Marshmallows in hand, Linda turned wide eyes on Dennis. “If you say I told you so, I’ll stuff the full bag somewhere else.”

Dennis crammed a fist against his mouth to stop a chuckle from escaping. He loved her spirited like this. That light in her eyes made him smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Linda sat up straighter, stowing marshmallows away in her cheeks, one by one. Then she looked over at Dennis with a proud, lifted chin and said, “Banana.”

The laugh burst out explosively and he laughed until the tears rolled down his face. His vision blurred with gleeful tears. The most incredible thing happened while he was laughing, Linda joined him, looking ridiculous and adorable with her full cheeks.

“Dennis,” Yaron said, humor lacing his tone. “Would you like to reciprocate?”

Dennis’s laughter faded into a groan. He couldn’t leave her hanging, though. Shaking his head at his wife, he took the bag and tucked a bunch of marshmallows into his cheeks. “Dr. Nefario,” he said, doing his best Gru impersonation, “Prepare the torpedo.”