23. 2009
Chapter twenty-three
2009
Maria
“ H ey, Maria! Can you come in here for a sec?” Nate calls from our bedroom as I sit on Mason’s floor, folding what feels like thousands of pairs of toddler socks. He’s playing with his trains, his hair still a mess from sleeping, his sockless feet looking cuter than ever.
A groan escapes my mouth because I know I need to get up and answer him. If I don’t, he will march in here demanding to know why I didn’t run to his beck and call. “I’ll be right back, bubba.” I ruffle Mason’s hair as I peel myself off the floor, groaning because my abs are still sore from my workout the day before. The soreness causes Nate’s words from last week to ring out in my head. “Your stomach hasn’t quite recovered from Mason. Have you been working out the way you should be?”
Truth be told, I haven’t been. And I know how Nate feels about me looking fit and trim. I’ve only heard him remind me every day for the last eight years. Never mind the fact that his stomach resembles more of a wash tub than the washboard it used to be. But I keep my thoughts to myself and do as I’m told.
Ever the trophy wife.
I trudge down the hallway, bracing myself for what task he feels I need to accomplish today. Who knows what it could be? Scrubbing the kitchen floors, pulling out the furniture and cleaning underneath, vacuuming the drapes. It could be anything.
I’m basically Cinderella, who has birthed his children at this point.
As I make my way around the corner towards our bedroom, I follow the soft glow emanating from the en suite bathroom. Water sloshes around as he runs his razor through the sink. He slyly grins when he sees me through the reflection of the mirror. “Hey, you.” There is a playful look in his eyes, which is unusual for seven a.m. I ready my thoughts about the chore he is about to throw at me.
“So, I was thinking maybe we could go away this weekend. Just you and me. No kids. What do you think?”
Okay, I was not expecting that.
“Seriously?” I cock my head, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
He wipes his face down with a wet washcloth, ridding his skin of any remaining shaving cream, and tosses it on the vanity, not bothering to ring it out first. He sits his razor on top. White foam is everywhere.
“You look so surprised? Is it so shocking that I want to spend some quality time with my wife?” He’s walking into the bedroom now, a towel wrapped around his waist, his wash tub on full display.
“I mean no, of course not.” I answer quickly because I know better than to not agree with him.
If I’m being honest, a weekend away sounds like heaven. The kids are older now, and my mom or dad could keep them for the weekend. They would love it and will probably fight over who gets them.
“I was thinking my parents could keep the kids,” he interjects into my thoughts as he whips off his towel and pulls on his boxers. Of course, his parents. “Then maybe we could head to Finger Lakes for a couple of nights. I’ll find us a cabin.” He looks at me and waggles his eyebrows.
“Wait, I thought you had a conference this weekend with your department for work?”
He walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. He glances down at me, and for a fleeting moment, I see the Nate of old. There was something about that Nate. He pulled me in like a gravitational force. That Nate was sweet, attentive, and made me feel sexy for the first time since Sam.
Desire fills his expression.
Locked in an intense moment with my husband, the idea of escaping to a secluded place and rediscovering each other feels incredibly enticing. The thought spreads through me like a warm blanket.
His lips brush over mine, then he pulls me in for an embrace, nestling his nose into my hair. “It got canceled,” he whispers. He tugs me closer, and the smell of his aftershave fills my nose. I melt into him, craving this attention and need from him. “God, you smell good,” he purrs.
Even though this feels nice and familiar, it also is … strange. I’m not understanding where this new tender Nate is coming from. He isn’t affectionate toward me anymore. Sex is more of a routine and, of course, only when he’s ready. I never seem to be a part of the equation. This has been an ongoing thing since Brielle was born. My body has changed after giving birth to two children. At thirty-four years old, I’m no longer the twenty-something he fell in love with. All lean and young.
Now, there are stretch marks, cellulite, sagging boobs, and dark circles under my eyes. And trust me, I know because Nate loves to point it out.
I try my best to put that aside and relish in the tenderness that Nate is offering right now. “That sounds nice. Let’s do it.” The words spill out of my mouth at the prospect of reconnecting with my husband. This could be a good thing. A new beginning.
He pulls back. “Really?” I nod my head in agreement. “Yes!” With a strong grip on my face, he leans in for a forceful kiss that unexpectedly fills me with laughter. “Okay, I’ll have my secretary make the arrangements today.”
He slaps me on the butt as he grabs his shirt and shoves his arms through the sleeves. His fingers are working the buttons when Nate of the here and now comes back. “So, start packing today, and we can leave right after I get home from work. I’ll have my mom pick up the kids around noon.” He’s pulling on his pants now. “And don’t pack that black lace nighty. It shows off too much of your stomach. You can’t wear that until you get”—he points to my abs—“that in order. You worked out last night, right?”
I nod.
“Good. Keep it up. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” He winks at me as if he’s paid me the ultimate compliment. With a heavy heart, and the initial excitement now gone, I turn to head back to the never-ending pile of toddler socks. “Oh wait, Maria.” I shift my weight, grab onto the door frame, face my husband, the supposed love of my life, and give him a tight smile. “And make sure to give the bathroom a deep clean today. I really made a mess of it this morning.”
I sigh. My Nate is back.
Suddenly, folding socks sounds a lot more appealing than the Finger Lakes.
The weekend ended up being a bust.
We arrived at our cabin at ten that Friday night. Nate passed out on the bed by ten-thirty, claiming the long drive and a stressful week at work did him in.
The next morning, while on a hike (a hike that was supposed to help with my weight loss), he got a phone call. His face lit up when he saw who the caller was. He stepped away, and when he returned, he told me that we had to head back home because his conference was now back on.
Yeah, okay.
We drove five hours home and picked up the kids. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, he kissed me on the cheek and off he went to his “conference.”
I know full well what’s going on. And I’m choosing to ignore it. One day, when I have enough courage, I will confront him.
But not now.
Currently, I’m back in Mason’s room, folding yet another basket of laundry as him and Brielle play in their playroom, waiting for my husband to return home. Also, trying to put out of my mind what I know is happening .
My husband is cheating on me. The signs are there, flashing their warnings. The late dinners with so-called colleagues. Weekend conferences. Unnecessary overtime. The smell of perfume that isn’t mine on his clothes. He thinks he’s being slick about it all. However, as of right now, it’s only suspicions on my part. The proof will come. I need to remain calm and wait.
Although those thoughts taunt me daily, I choose to ignore them and move on.
Music from the radio in our bedroom is traveling through the hallway. I chose a soft pop/rock channel to help with my emotions. The songs are soothing and upbeat. I need that right now. Although angry screaming death metal might mirror my current mood as well.
Brielle’s and Mason’s laughter is coming from the room on the other side of the wall. No matter how crappy my marriage is, or how horrible Nate makes me feel, those two little humans make it all worth it.
A song I’m familiar with starts to play. “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. My body immediately sways with the beat. But it’s the lyrics that send a shockwave through my system. Lyrics about being in love with your best friend, seeing them in your dreams, coming home again.
Only one person has fit those lyrics for me.
Sam.
I stand up and walk to the bedroom as Jason and Colbie sing in harmony, letting the lyrics fill my thoughts and wrap around my heart. We were fortunate to share a love that went beyond romance and made us the best of friends.
My chest fills with the same familiar pain that always accompanies thoughts of Sam, and I know what follows that pain.
I sit on the edge of my and Nate’s bed, and the tears well up in my eyes as the duet continues.
I pull my body into itself as I wipe my running nose on my knees. Snot smearing the dark denim. It’s been two years since the email from Sam. The one he told me not to respond to, and for obvious reasons, I understood his request. Erica died. How or why, I have no clue. But he needed to be a dad to his son. I would have been a distraction. I get it and would never fault him for making his son his sole focus. It’s those types of qualities that made me love him so much.
But does he still feel that way? Even though I’m living this life, getting those emails from Sam always was a bright spot for me. I feel like I need that again. To cope with the absolute mess that my life has become.
I peel myself off of the bed and head toward the computer. I peek in on Brielle and Mason, and they are fine. Happily playing with one another.
The comforting sound of the computer coming to life starts to get my adrenaline going.
With a click of a button, my email opens. I type.
Date: June 30 2009 4:45pm
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
Sam,
Hey! I’m not sure if this is the best idea or not, but two years have passed since your last email and I wanted to check on you to see how you are. Plus, I never got a chance to tell you how truly sorry I am about Erica’s death. And I am Sam. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been on you. I wish there was more I could say, just know that I am thinking about you and hoping that you found the comfort and help you needed to cope.
I heard it through the grapevine that Ricky flew down for the service and that it was small and nice. I hope that it was. The mother of your child deserves that.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I’m worried about you. And Mikey.
Do you think that we could maybe start emailing again? Only if you want to. I miss our communication and seeing that I got an email from you.
Just let me know,
Love, Mari a
Before I chicken out, I hit send.
Will he write back?
My heart leaps at the thought. I hope so.