35. Chanice
Chanice
Even after the conversation with Alex, I can’t help but replay that night as I stare at his sleeping form.
From the moment I stepped into that room, I felt like I didn’t belong.
I didn’t need his mother to tell me. Her vile words and reaction to my existence were like a solidifier of all of my worst fears.
How does someone like me become his wife?
I know we fit. The broken pieces from our childhood come together to make us whole. We click into place, everywhere but in this part of his life. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t force me into it. So how can I possibly be the woman on his arm?
Maybe I have to come to terms with the fact that I’m not ever going to look like I belong there. But I belong in his home, in his heart, and in the pieces of him that make up who he really is, and for now that may have to be enough.
Still, this other stuff is something that is a part of him, too. It’s his world outside of the people he loves. I just wish I could simplify his life, like he has done for me.
I sigh and run a hand down his jaw and caress his bottom lip with my thumb. It’s like I need to feel him to know he is really mine.
Leaning forward, I kiss the tip of his nose before trailing my lips down and pressing them against his. That gets him to stir.
“Morning,” he mumbles, a yawn peeling out at the very end.
“Good morning.” I kiss him again, and then rest my head on his chest.
It’s the first time I’ve had him sleep over, and greedily, I soak in cuddling with him, not ever wanting him to leave my bed.
“Are the kids up?” he asks, running his fingers up and down my back.
“Yes, they’re entertaining themselves.” With only one job now, I have plenty of time to spend with them, it’s fine for me to give him this day in bed. Plus, I need to check in with him.
“Hey,” I say, lifting up to look into his eyes. “Did you want to talk about what happened between you and your mum?”
He sighs and rubs his hand up and down his face. “Honestly, I don’t even really know what happened. One moment, I was ready to completely cut her off. I was so pissed. Then with two sentences, it was like she dismantled everything I thought.”
I ask him what they were, and he explains the whole conversation. When he’s done, he sighs again and stares up at the ceiling.
“She somehow does this all the time. I walk into a conversation with her ready to decide the outcome, and leave it feeling even more out of control.”
I turn us so now it’s his head resting on my chest. Combing my fingers through his hair, I try to soothe him.
“What do you want to happen with your mum?” Grabbing his hand with my free one, I interlock our fingers.
“That’s the thing; I want nothing to do with her most of the time. I resent her with every fiber of my being, but every time I do anything to cut her off, or even think about turning away from all of this—her included—I feel this overwhelming guilt.
“I thought she only had a hold on Liv, but it’s also me that can’t seem to give up on her, and I don’t know why.”
“She’s your mother,” I say, like that explains everything.
Because it should, because the influence they have on us is unmatched.
“I have forgiven my mother more times than I count,” I say.
“For as long as I can remember, most days she treated us like she didn’t give a damn about us, and then with one good day, I would gaslight myself into thinking that I was wrong, that she really wasn’t that bad.
“I spent so much of my childhood trying to justify her actions because I just couldn’t believe that a mother couldn’t love her kids.
That my mother didn’t love me. I didn’t want to feel unlovable.
” Which I still do most days. Less now, since meeting him.
“It’s so hard to understand that the only people who are supposed to care about you don’t.
You aren’t wrong for wishing it were different. ”
He lifts his head and then scoots up, facing me. Pulling me onto his lap until I am straddling him, he rubs his hands up and down my thighs while staring into my eyes.
“How do you do it? How did you walk away from your mom?” he asks.
I hold his face between my hands, stroking my thumbs across his stubble.
“I didn’t. She kicked me out, and it broke something in me that I’m still trying to fix.
But now it’s more important than ever to remember who she truly is, because I’m the only thing keeping my siblings from feeling the way I feel.
Your sister wants you to stay in your mother’s life, and honestly, it’s selfish and wrong. She shouldn’t have asked that of you.”
He shakes his head, and I force it still.
“Alex, she shouldn’t have asked you to do this, because it’s okay for you to let your mother go. You deserve better.”
There is a war in his eyes as he blinks back tears.
When he looks ready to let them go, he crushes his mouth against mine.
The kiss is urgent, needy, desperate, and full of all his pain.
I soak it in, trying to free him of some of this burden.
He grips me against him so tightly that it shows me how much he will never let go, and I do the same with him trying to make my love clear.
No matter how these women feel about us, we have each other as a reminder that someone cares.
Pulling back, his breath heavy, he gulps down air while resting his head on my shoulder.
I feel him exhale watery breaths as he still fights to hold it together.
I don’t want him to. I want whatever is breaking to fall into my hands so I can keep the pieces for him.
I want to be the person who helps him rebuild, like he has started to do with me.
“I got you,” I say, holding him tight. “I’ll catch you.”
He’s silent, but tears wet my shoulder. With every passing minute that he cries, his body loosens more and more. I’ll hold him for the rest of our lives if that’s what it will take for it all to come out.
It takes a while before he stops, and I don’t stop rubbing his back the entire time. When he’s done, he looks at me.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too.”
In this home surrounded by all the people that have made me feel that way, I let myself believe that it isn’t my fault that she didn’t.