Twenty-six
Sarah
Four days ago
Imade it all the way to Amarillo, Texas before my humanity necessitated that I check into a hotel.
My muscles unraveled as I stepped out of the car.
I’d been so tense the entire drive. My hands ached from the way I’d clutched the steering wheel, and my neck felt like it could snap. Even my jaw felt sore.
Peter had called. Even though I asked him not to. Driving down the interstate, I blocked his contact then chucked my phone into the backseat. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Ten phone numbers.
A kiss.
It didn’t matter if he was drunk and not thinking straight. It did not matter.
Why did he even put himself in that situation? Why go that far in the first place? He could claim all day that it was an accident, but his following actions tracked with his previous words. He was out for a good time, and got himself one.
Was he that miserable with me, seriously?
Had going blind made him suddenly hate me?
Why had my pleas to connect with him fallen on deaf ears only for Peter to turn around and make such a good impression on so many ladies that he was getting volunteer tit pics on his phone?
How had he gone from resenting my touch to kissing another woman?
The fact that I had toted him all the way to Texas to “focus on us” was so embarrassing now that I wanted to pull a comforter over my head and disappear. I should’ve seen that we were too far gone.
The rejection festered in my heart as I tugged my suitcase out of the trunk and made my way into the Hampton Inn. A thread tugged at the back of my conscience, telling me to slow down and try to understand him. But I rejected the notion before it could take root.
I was done trying to understand Peter. I would never be able to understand why he refused to pick himself up and move forward.
I would never coddle him like Lynn or act like the world dealt him a bad hand.
This was life. Things were hard sometimes.
Peter should’ve understood that better than anybody.
Flashes of the boy on the hospital bed filed through my mind.
He had more vitality leaning over a bed pan and puking his guts out while cancer ravaged his blood than he did with a healthy body, a wife to love, a career he enjoyed, and a family who adored him.
As a teenager, wiping his brow and watching him wither away felt like hard work.
But the darkness was our true mountain.
For all the obstacles we had faced and conquered, this was our breaking point.
I never thought I’d be that woman to leave her husband after a life-altering accident, but here I was—running. I reminded myself over and over: he wanted this.
He didn’t want the pressure a wife ushered into his world. He didn’t want the reminders that life could be more than blankets and pillows and suffocating depression. He didn’t want to feel guilty about me working so much. He didn’t want any more adventures.
In Peter’s world, loneliness was preferable to accountability.
So he could have it his way.
Maybe if I left him to his own devices, I could get a moment of peace.
Maybe I wouldn’t be so exhausted all the time if I didn’t have to come home to his bad attitude every night.
Maybe I could see some friends, have some fun, and get out of the house.
Maybe if I didn’t have to worry about his happiness every second of the day, I could think about my own.
I’ll be just fine, I told myself.
As I walked to the check-in desk, I realized I had never stayed in a hotel by myself before.
My parents didn’t let me take trips with friends or travel with the cheer team or anything like that.
So all my hotel stays had been with Peter.
And he did the honors of checking in while I scoped out the coffee bar, browsed the brochure rack, and surveyed the lounge area.
I lifted my nose into the air and straightened my shoulders to prove that I was, in fact, fine. “Hi, I need to check in.”
“Sure.” An older woman with the nametag Barbara looked up from her computer. “Is it just you?”
“Yes.”
She tapped on her keyboard a few times.
I added, “Is there any way you could put me in a room that isn’t directly by the interstate? I’m a light sleeper.”
She grimaced. “Well, I have some double queen rooms on the first floor and third floor, but I’ll be honest with you, honey; we have a huge volleyball tournament happening over at the sports center and I’ve got about seven teams booked in this hotel.
If you’re a light sleeper, the only rooms I can truly recommend on a night like tonight are the whirlpool suites on the sixth floor. ”
A few minutes later, I found myself in room 612, which Barbara graciously allowed me to book at a standard room price. It was spacious and clean with crisp white bedding on a bed much too big for just one person. And there, in the corner, sat a jacuzzi.
Suddenly, the only thing I wanted was a nice, hot bath.
When I eased my tight and aching body down into the frothing water, I breathed a sigh of relief.
The heat scalding my skin felt just like I hoped it would.
And slowly, my muscles released their tension and my red hair lifted and danced around my shoulders as I sunk deeper.
But, my relief was short lived as the roiling water quickly ushered in memories of Peter.
I would never forget the time we visited the Grand Canyon and Peter booked a teeny tiny cabin with a jacuzzi to surprise me.
We spent a copious amount of time in that tub.
I wanted to laugh remembering us like that—young, hungry, and experimenting—but instead, sudden tears pricked behind my eyes.
He was so attentive to me. Fluttering closed, my eyes still saw his face over mine, his gentle smile disappearing into a kiss on my lips.
My stomach dipped as desire for all we had shared rolled through my body.
Many times in the course of our relationship, I was convinced I’d hit the jackpot.
I literally couldn’t have dreamed up a better man for my future.
But he was flawed. Obviously, I’d always known that.
But as the years went by, I saw his flaws more and more.
Peter was passive about things. He twiddled his thumbs and hemmed and hawed when big decisions required his attention.
As a young woman, I saw it as caution—wanting to be ready for the worst-case scenario and not move too quickly.
But now, I saw it for what it was.
Fear.
It was why I was still childless.
Anger curled into my stomach again as I thought about all our delayed milestones. All the times I had deferred to Peter’s timeframe and not mine. For him to say that I cast him aside the moment he stopped making my dreams come true was a wild take.
I slapped him for it.
A phantom sting reappeared in my hand.
I’d never touched Peter that way. Ever.
I tried to ignore the well of regret deepening in my chest.
As I turned pruny in the tub, the bubbles whisked away the hot energy that had fueled me, and suddenly my limbs felt like lead, the water like mud. So I dragged myself out and went to bed.
But I tossed and turned, trying so hard not to think about Peter’s mouth on another woman’s.
On the cusp of sleep, my subconscious plucked a precious memory from my heart and played it in my mind’s eye.
“Promise you’ll catch me?”
Peter whispered, “I promise. You’re only dropping a few feet.”
Not wanting to chicken out in front of him, I stuck my legs through the open window, inching my body over the sill until I was bent at the waist and giggling maniacally.
“Shhh!”
I pressed my hands into the beige carpet and wriggled the rest of the way until I was gripping the bottom of the window sill and Peter’s hands grabbed my calves.
“Got you. Now just let go.”
My hands grew slick. “I’m scared.”
Peter snickered. “Sarah.” His hands moved to the back of my knees, demonstrating how close he actually was. They were strong, warm through my jeans, and an instant balm to my soul.
My stomach slammed into my heart as my body dropped to the ground. Peter’s arms came around my waist and he pulled me into him. With the grace of a tumble weed, we fell together on the cool grass in a fit of laughter that might’ve woken half the neighborhood.
I should’ve cared, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop laughing. My night had been fraught with parents fighting, spilled beer, and broken dishes. I got berated for something I didn’t do, and I crawled into bed crying. But then Peter came to make it right. Came to my rescue with a list adventure.
He rose out of the grass and slapped a hand over my mouth. He hissed, “You’ve got to be quiet.”
My apology was muffled by his hand.
And, looking up, my heart stopped. His eyes, though shadowed, sparkled with life that couldn’t be stamped out. The passion that kept him alive burned in the darkness. Then he smiled and I nearly became one with the earth from the way I melted.
Now quiet, his eyes bounced around my face and then he swept a strand of hair behind my ear. Laying in my backyard, time stopped for a few milliseconds.
Just me, Peter, and the stars above us.
Then he leaned forward, pecked my lips, and pulled me to my feet.