‘I don’t know,’ my wife eyed the room carefully. ‘Do you really think we need it?’
‘Of course, we do!’ I insisted, eyes wide with the possibility of what the room could be.
‘But a partition?’ she frowned, cradling her baby bump as she cast her eyes around the freshly-painted room. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to have a big, open space in the house?’
‘Obviously, in a perfect world,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But we have to think practically! With him on the way—’ I pointed at her stomach.
‘Her,’ she interrupted me.
‘With her on the way,’ I continued. ‘We need to create as much space as we can. A plaster wall room partition is the perfect way to do that!’
‘I guess,’ she said, still clearly unconvinced.
‘How would you arrange it then?’
‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘I think I’d start with not living in your parent’s basement.’
‘Here we go,’ I threw my hands up. ‘Every time we have a disagreement about the interior decorating you always bring up that we’re living in my parent’s basement!’
‘First of all,’ she frowned, ‘we’re not talking about hiring a professional near Melbourne who can do plasterboard repairs, we’re talking about where our newborn daughter is going to sleep!’
‘Well we can’t—’
‘I said “first of all!’ she growled at me, and I quickly swallowed my words, putting my hands up in a gesture of immediate, unconditional surrender.
‘Secondly,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘We were only supposed to be here for a few months!’
‘It hasn’t been that much—’
‘Four years, Michael!’ she said, balling her hands into fists. ‘Four years and we’re still here!’
‘We need somewhere to stay for cheap, while we’re saving,’ I said weakly, the lizard part of my brain clocking the exits.
‘Then why are we renovating?!’ she yelled at me.
The tension hung in the air between us as she took some calming breaths, laying her hands on top of her stomach again. I took a chance.
‘So… that’s a no on the partition wall then?’