TEN
Madelyn
Seven days. An entire week full of apologies.
Begging. Pleading. Promising.
We barely spoke. Well, I barely spoke.
What can you really say to your husband when he’s apologizing for raising his hand to you? It’s okay? I forgive you? Absolutely not.
David spent every evening telling me how terrible he felt for his actions that night. Explaining all the ways he planned to make it up to me. Never once making an excuse. We both know there was none. There is nothing that excuses what he did.
I still don’t know where he went when he left that night. He didn’t offer the information. I didn’t ask. I probably should have, but it wasn’t important at the time. He came home a couple hours later, hesitated at the bedroom door, and eventually went to sleep on the couch.
I listened to him. To the apologies. Searched for signs of dishonesty. I wanted to believe his words. Wanted to believe the sincerity of his apologies. So many apologies.
Finally, I started to accept that he wasn’t in control of himself. Still, I offered no forgiveness. Not at first.
Eventually, I told him that we would work through it. I had no plans to leave him. Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m just plain stupid. But people make mistakes. They deserve second chances. I chose to give him one.
Pain is a part of life. Everyone deals with it in some way, at some time in their life. God knows, I’ve dealt with my fair share of it already in my twenty-one years.
But feeling the sting of my husband’s hand across my face? I never expected that type of pain. I never would have thought it possible. So, for now...I’ve forgiven him. But it’s not something I will ever forget.
We’re trying to move on.
I’m waiting for David to get home from work, curled up under a thick blanket on the couch. He should have been home hours ago, but he’s late.
I was late, too.
Not in the sense of punctuality, no. My period was late by almost a week. Bitch made an appearance today, though, and I feel like shit. I came home from work and wanted to spend the evening cuddled up to my husband, but I don't know where he is. Not here, obviously. Not answering his phone. Not returning my calls.
Things have been good for the past few weeks since the incident. I’ve taken to calling it that since I accepted his apology. Like I said, we’re trying to move on. We’ve had dinner together almost every night. Spent time together when we’re both not working. It’s been really, really good.
So, I’m worried. It’s not like him to be late without letting me know ahead of time. What if something happened to him? Should I try calling the restaurant? Should I wait? I don’t know what to do.
I’m stressing myself out. Between the worry, hormones, and the frustration and sadness I feel about getting my period...I’m driving myself insane.
I’m a bit upset that I started. I want a baby. My miscarriage devastated me, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to be a mother. I’ve always wanted a big family, like mine. My cycle is usually like clockwork, so being late was unusual, and a really big deal. I’m on the pill, but smart enough to know that no form of birth control is one-hundred percent effective.
For a little while...I felt that spark of hope.
And maybe...maybe now isn’t the right time, not so soon after seeing a different, horrible side to my husband. But I couldn’t help but hope.
That hope vanished with the first sign of blood and cramps.
And now...now I’m upset, sad, depressed. I’m hurting and hormonal. Not being pregnant—when I wanted it so badly—brought back all those feelings of loss from my first pregnancy. I want love and comfort. I want my husband, but he’s still not here.
I reach for my phone and pull up his number from my recent calls. My thumb hovers over the “call” icon for a few seconds as I hesitate to call him again.
I may have forgiven, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a bit wary of his anger. I can’t forget the fear. The uncertainty of what would happen next.
Tapping the screen, I decide to take my chances.
It only rings once before I realize I can hear his ringtone nearby. I sit up quickly and turn my head, ending the call as he’s opening the front door.
“You’re home,” I say, stating the obvious. “I was really starting to worry something bad happened to you.”
“That’s why you called so many times?”
I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t answer. He hangs his keys on the hook by the door before he comes over, leaning over the back of the couch.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Work was busy, two of my brigade called in sick, and my sous chef had to leave for a family emergency. It was hectic and there wasn’t time to call.”
I lean my head back to look up at him. “Oh no, I hope everything is alright.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he says, but his gaze doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Good. I’m sorry you had such a busy night. You should relax. Come cuddle with me? I got my period and I feel awful.”
He pulls away from me, standing up straight. “Sure. Let me go shower first. We’ll order in dinner. Decide what you want, and I’ll order when I get out.”
With that, he hurries from the room.
Blackwood doesn’t have much in the way of food delivery, so my options are slim. Chinese food, pizza, or subs. Chinese is the only real choice, especially since it’s my go-to comfort food.
While I wait for David to finish in the shower, I scroll through my social media. I check my personal page, then go to the page for The Sweet Spot Bakeshop. Since I’ve been back, Grams has more or less put me in charge, so I convinced her that we should really get on social media. It’s been good for business. By the time I’ve checked the messages and answered a few questions, David comes strolling back into the living room.
“Chinese, please.”
Without responding, he calls and places the order. He knows all of my favorites, so telling him what I want isn’t necessary.
It’ll be about thirty minutes, so he snuggles up with me while we wait. He provides some sweet relief from my cramps by rubbing my hips and lower back. We talk about work, him complaining about the lack of experience people seem to have, and me sharing the latest ideas and recipes for the bakery.
I dig right in when the food arrives, not realizing how hungry I was until the delicious scent of Bourbon Chicken filled the room.
There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to David about. Deciding that now is as good a time as any, I broach the topic of family with my husband.
“Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?” He asks, using a set of chopsticks to eat another bite of his lo mein. I’ve yet to master chopsticks. I can decorate a cake like nobody’s business but put a pair of chopsticks in my hand and I’m a fumbling disaster.
“It was probably just stress, but my period was almost a week late.”
His face pales. He swallows hard, turning to face me.
“You’ve been taking your birth control, right?”
I nod and finish chewing. “Yeah, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
His brow arches.
“I think I should stop taking my birth control.”
“Mada—”
“Because I know that we only just got married, but I want a family. I’ve always wanted to have a family and I want to have babies while I’m still young and have the energy to keep up with them. It could take months, or longer, to get pregnant if I stop taking the pill.” I’m rambling. I’m nervous because the look on his face right now is not what I was hoping to see. I don’t stop talking. “Family is important to me. I know you don’t have any, but we can have our own. I just think th—”
“Madelyn, stop.”
My head jerks back, mouth open and eyes wide at the hardness in his tone. Completely unexpected. I wait to listen to what he has to say.
“No.”
No? What does he mean?
“No...no what?” I ask, albeit a bit slowly, because I’m not sure what to think about his reaction.
“No. Everything you just said. No.”
“You’re not ready to start a family? I mean...I know we never really talked about it, and obviously we should have, but…”
“I’m not ready to start a family. I will never be ready to start a family. I don’t want a family. No children, Madelyn.”
He can’t be serious.
Excuse me while I pick my jaw up from the floor.
“N-never?” I stutter. Surely, he doesn’t mean it.
“I don’t want children. Ever.”
“But why? This is kind of a big deal, David.”
“It doesn’t matter why. And you’re right. It is a big deal. It’s important to me that you continue to take your birth control. We cannot have a baby. No accidents or slip ups.” His serious glare bores into me.
What. The. Hell.
“I have no say in this? You just get to decide? We’ve been together for almost two years, David. We’re married. And never once have you ever said you don’t want children. You knew I wanted a family. What about what I want?”
The pitch of my voice rises with every question. Does he really expect me to just forget about ever having a baby? About being a mother?
Something sinister flashes in his dark eyes.
“It’s not up for negotiations, Madelyn. The world does not revolve around you. It’s not always about what you want. I. Will. Not. Father. Any. Children.” Anger punctuates every word he speaks. “In fact, I would be extremely unhappy if you were to get pregnant.”
His face is emotionless. His stare hard and cold.
“You will continue to take your pills regularly. Don’t test me on this. You won’t like what happens if you do.”
He slams his plate on the table and leaves the room.
That was a threat. Did he seriously just threaten me?
Wow. I’m left utterly shocked, and speechless. Not only did my husband just steamroll over me, he completely disregarded my wants. Totally shut me down. Declared...no, demanded it his way and gave me no reasoning whatsoever.
A shiver leaves my body trembling and cold as I replay his words in my head.
“You won’t like what happens if you do.”
I’m not sure what to make of that, but it leaves me with a feeling of dread.
What would he do? Leave me? Worse?
I close my eyes tightly, trying to block out the memories. The sounds and images of him backhanding me across my face. He wouldn’t do it again, would he?
He’s already hit you once, Mads. Remember that.
Another shiver travels down my spine.