Happy (M/L AU/Adult) [COMPLETE]

[RosDude]

Winner Round 13




Banner Artist: Me (There’s a surprise )

Title: Happy
Author: Chad aka RosDude aka ChadDude aka Chadelez aka ChadLad aka Darlingboy aka Chadelicious. There I think I’ve covered 'em all. If I haven’t I’m sure my friends at Roswell Heaven will remind me of the ones I’ve forgotten.
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell do not belong to me. No infringement intended.
Rating/Category: Adult/ AU without aliens
Summary: The Evans’ have the perfect life. They have great jobs, great friends, and a great marriage. But when they are struck by a heartbreaking tragedy the two will discover that their perfect life may not be as perfect as it seems. Can they weather the storm of adversity together, or will they be swept apart by the gale?
AN: Thanks much to Jeannine (BelevnDreamsToo) for being an awesomely sock rocking beta! Contrary to the title and the smiling faces on the banner this is going to be a very angsty fic so consider yourselves warned. Not planning on this being a long one but we know what can happen to the best laid plans.

~~ONE~~

I was making love to a stranger.

A detached being that had once been my wife, but now could have very well been any woman. Her passion-heated skin was soft to the touch as I caressed her face with kisses. Her body was slick with sexual perspiration, clinging meltingly to the palm of my hand as I cupped the weight of her breasts. It felt as if it were a mockery when her legs slipped around my hips, holding me with her soft thighs and drawing me repeatedly into the familiar warmth of her achingly wet body.

She panted into my shoulder, raking her lips and teeth across my skin with bites and kisses that were designed to drive me mad. Her soft sounds of ecstasy pierced my ears. Little panting lies, that’s what they were. Little lies, filling me with anger and heated desire.

It was all a lie. Her treacherous lips, her succulent breast, her shallow inhalations. All were divine lies she had formed to torment me. Teasing me with small glimpses of her true passion, the passion I had always known before. The passion of the wife that I loved, of the friend that I cherished, of the one person on earth that I was made for.

I wanted to scream with rage, and die from the hallow enchantment that coursed through my body as I "made love" to my wife. Her lips against my neck, her teeth against my skin, all stirring my blood with false passion and leaving me hopelessly filled with an inexorable desire to be inside her. Inside her mind, inside her spirit, inside her heart.

Her lips skimmed up my neck seeking out my own, and brushing across them with fleeting swipes of her cherry red mouth. All the while, her moans playing across my face in teasing brushes of air.

I hated it. That she could give so much and yet withhold so much more.

I took her lips, desperately searching for the desire I needed from her, but could not feel, had not felt in so long. She kissed me back, stroking her tongue against mine, tugging at my lips with her teeth, and for a brief moment, seeming to need me just as intensely as I needed her. But in an even shorter moment, that illusion was gone, leaving me to wonder if it had ever truly been there.

I drove into her harder, succumbing to the biting desire to be immersed within her as deeply as I could possibly be. In the height of our raw passion, we found the familiar rhythm of our bodily dance, yet still, I felt nothing from her.

My eyes closed in a conglomeration of the pain of my loss and the mechanical desire of my body. I felt her legs squeeze against me, drawing me even further into the ecstasy of her tight body.

"Oh, God!" her whispered sigh was another grate on my ears, another torment I was not sure I would be able to abide. Her orgasm was close. The tell tale signs of her climax were as apparent to me as they had ever been. It was the one thing she could not withhold from me. I wouldn’t let her.

I waited in agonizing glory and took in the signs of her approaching climax. The way her hands squeezed against my buttocks, forcing me deeper inside of her. The way her dew soaked heat clenched and unclenched around me in prelude of her orgasmic spasms. The way she threw back her head, letting her waterfall of dark hair cascade against the pillow. The way she whispered my name, shuttering the word as if the effort to speak was too great of a burden.

Watching her in the throes of rapture, I could see the traces of my adoring wife. The wife I loved so much, and wanted so dearly. I laughed in exulted splendor at the heavenly sight, and at the same time, felt her walls contract around me as she came in my arms. She cried out my name as her body took its pleasure, and held me close to her, as if somehow my body would serve as an anchor to keep her from losing herself to the magnificent bliss.

I reveled in the short space of time that I had her with me, with no barriers, just the two of us. But as her waves of passion subsided, I felt the release of my shoulders where she had gripped me so solidly to her. I looked down into her eyes, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of my openly passionate wife, but she was not there, and neither was I.

I felt a hot tear race a straight course down my cheek as my body emptied its seed into hers and I collapsed in a heap of spent desire alongside her.

My wife, my beautiful wife. My beautiful stranger.

TBC

[RosDude]

A message from your friendly neighborhood RosDude ->

:Yes yes yes! You guys delivered all the reactions I was looking for. Captured interest. Subtle confusion. Bad puns. I particularly like the bad puns. The wows are a close second though.

Anyway so here’s the deal. I’ve decided that I’m going to try to do a once a week thing with this one. Mostly because I’m feeling it right now and I don’t plan for it to be an epic so if I apply myself I should be able to finish it. Hopefully the five chapter head start will help me out too.

I’ve decided that I shall post on Thursdays. Thursday always was one of my favorite days of the week but it always got looked over because of all the hype of Fridays and Saturdays. Well not anymore. From now on I shall dub Thursdays as “Happy Thursdays” (Told you I liked the bad puns)

On to the feedback! ->

begonia9508: Thank you. I’m glad you liked it. About Max's wife, I want to say more....ehhh I just can't.
BelevnDreamsToo: Being gimp makes me write J…well…and play videogames. But a lot of stuff makes me play videogames. That doesn’t mean take a crowbar to my other leg or anything though.
Sweet Liz: Actually I’m not really going to be answering what happened soon exactly. More like ambiguously tiptoeing around it. But you’ll enjoy the story anyway.
Gaby7tvm: You are very welcome. Glad I can be of service to you.
cassie: Happy pun number 2! Do you think we should count as we go?
Alien_Friend: “A powerful start” I like that. Ego +1
Natalie36: YES!! Bug-eyed wows are always appreciated.
Cocogurl: Thanks much. Intensity is what I was going for. I’ve done my job.
Smac: Sherrie love, of course I’m working on this. I’m such a good boy and I always do as my beta commands.

Happy Thursday!

Italics denotes memories or flashbacks

~~TWO~~

The sun hurt my eyes as it shone through the open window of my bedroom. The birds that usually soothed me with their morning melody, only served as added annoyances to my ears. It was funny; morning had once been my favorite time of the day. Waking up after an intense night of passionate sex to the happy gleam of sunshine and the fresh air of daybreak used to be an enjoyment in my life.

Not now.

Now I dreaded the glare of sunlight through the window, along with the sound of birds chirping repeatedly in their singsong language. I hated the hint of freshness that breathed through the room, and the aroma of dawn that lingered in the air. The pleasant hints of morning that I had once loved so much were now the painful insinuations of memories I longed to bury.

I stretched my hand across the bed, gripping the sheet that covered the empty spot beside me. She’d left for work early again. Already, the sheets had grown cold in her absence, no longer warmed by the heat of her body. Still, l could smell the palpable perfume of last night’s lovemaking on the empty expanse. I longed for the smell to remain forever imbedded in the sheets. But like my wife, it too was already beginning to fade away.

I rolled out of bed sluggishly, finding no reason to move in haste, as my bare feet touched the carpet-less floor. I stood in front of the open window, watching the blue sky with drowsy eyes.

A purple finch flew in front of me and stopped to rest a moment on the rail of the small window balcony outside of our room. I watched as its head turned from side to side in that inquisitive manner that birds often have. It stopped its movements as it caught sight of me and almost seemed to glare back. A long obscured memory arose in my mind as I watched the bird watching me.

She’d stood out there many times watching the sunrise from our window and the birds fly over her head. Some, as they’d grown accustomed to her presence, would perch on the ledge beside her and help her greet the morning sun.

I used to joke that one-day she would turn into a finch herself, and just fly off into the sunrise.

She would just laugh and shrug it of. "Max, you know I’m afraid to fly," she would answer on a laugh, and continue to watch the sunrise.

But she had flown off, not as a happy bird into the sunrise. She’d just flown off. I hated that I’d ever utter the words.

Until that moment I hadn’t realized how much my happiness had been the upshot of hers. But she wasn’t happy anymore, and all the things that used to bring her that happiness only served as rueful hallmarks of what no longer existed.

The finch stayed a moment longer, hopping contentedly across the railing. Until a swarm of its fellow birds flew past and it left its perch to join them, taking with it, my bittersweet memory.

I sighed in exhaustion and turned away from the window. To linger there any longer would have only been masochistic of me.

I headed towards my bathroom, where I intended to immerse myself in a long hot shower. But I knew, as much as I wanted it to, no shower would wash away the amount of pain that weighed heavily in my heart.

When I flipped the switch of the bathroom light, I caught the light scent of powder and something sweet. I looked at the side of the tub. The cap to her body wash had been left open and a small dollop of soap had dripped down the side. The smell had permeated the entire bathroom, teasing my senses with the scent of her.

Jasmine.

As I looked down at the floor beneath me, I couldn’t hold back my smile. There was a light dusting of powder sprinkled on the bathroom rug.

She was the messy one.

Capping the body wash, I quickly wiped the dot of soap from the side of the tub, and placed the body wash back in the little basket that hung of the side of the sink. I picked up the floor rug and shook it out over the small wastebasket next to the toilet. It wouldn’t be completely rid of powder, but it was good enough for now.

After laying the rug back on the floor, I walked over to the tub and turned on the shower. As the hot water exploded from the showerhead, I flinched. The sound of the heavily pressured water hitting the porcelain tub ate up the silence of the bathroom. It was a sound that I had never noticed before. It had never been so quiet to notice.

She and I usually rose at the same time. Not a good idea when both of us had to be at work early. My weekday mornings were customarily filled with rushed showers and shouts across the room, as we both attempted to get in and out of the bathroom, dress, and eat breakfast at the same time. One of us was almost always late.

But without the noise of the TV as she tried to catch the morning weather report, or the ding of the microwave as she popped out a breakfast burrito, the apartment was eerily silent.

It was an acrid moment.

I walked over to the sink and braced my hands on the side of it. As I lifted my head to the mirror and looked at my reflection, I took in my appearance for the first time in a long time. I looked…haggard, unwell-rested. There were bags under my eyes.

"Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes," I said scathingly to my reflection. More like a sorry sight.

As steam began to fill the room I watched the glass of the mirror fog, pushing my reflection out of sight, until I was nothing more than a smudge in the mirror. Turning away from the foggy glass, I stripped and stepped into the jet of water.

The hot water was soothing. As it rained over my skin like a heated waterfall, I basked in the comfort of it. It felt so good. Like little fingers caressing my body all over, taking away any tension that dared to linger in me.

The experience brought about another memory. Real little fingers, not just droplets of water, massaging their way down my back, wrapping around my waist and splaying across my abdomen. Hands pressing into me, drawing into my body as soft lips skimmed my wet back in teasing kisses. Recollections of a soft tongue darting across my wet skin in little licks of passion, filled my mind and stoked my desire like a warm fire.

I stepped away from the spray of water, unable to bear the force of the elicitation of those memories. But it was too late. My body had already responded to them, and I stood fully erect in the stream of the shower.

I looked down at myself, partially ashamed, nonetheless in some measure, pleased that thoughts of her still had the power to affect me this way. It was proof. Proof that it was she, and not just a carnal reaction to the sight of her body, that had the power to bring me to this state of arousal.

I was pitiful.

I shook my head, in disgust or just an effort to clear my mind, I wasn’t sure. Either way, my body had answered the call of my memories in the most primal of ways. I could do nothing but satisfy its avidity.

Again, I stepped into the spray of the shower, giving my body a moment to adjust to the heat. As the water poured down on me I lifted my hand, placing it at the base of my shaft.

My eyes drifted closed and my hand squeezed slightly. It had been so long since I’d done this, so long since I’d had either the desire or the need to. Even so, as my hand began to move, it quickly found it’s apperceived rhythm.

I leaned my head back against the wall of the shower as I stroked my thick erection in a languid pace. Unwittingly, my mind began to conjure up the images that would bring me the quickest satisfaction.

Images of her.

It had been raining that day. When she walked into the bathroom she had been completely soaking wet. Her hair, which she had done up in a professional style ponytail, had come undone and was dripping water from every end.

I had only come home minutes before her and was already in the shower…

"Max, where are you?"

"I’m in here."

"In where?"

"In here!"

"In where?"

I pulled back the shower curtain and gave her a mock irritated look. She brushed it off with a laugh and came to stand beside the bathtub in front of me.

"You’re soaked." I ran my hand through her sopping hair, removing the hair tie that had been clinging to the wet locks with stubborn determination. She shook out her hair, as her fingers followed mine through it. "Yeah, it’s raining like you wouldn’t believe out there." She turned around and grabbed a towel off the towel rack, then started patting her hair dry with it.

"Traffic was crazy. I almost got ran of the road by some little old lady in an Astro Van." The smile in her voice told me that she was only teasing and she winked at me as she sat the towel down on the sink.

I smiled at her and lifted a finger, cranking it in my direction. It seemed like it’d been forever since this morning when the two of us had left for work. I had spent almost the entire day thinking about her. I had barely been able to concentrate on any work. The whole day I’d been looking forward to this moment.

She slowly came towards me, smiling like a devilish kitty as she drew near. When she stood in front of me at the bathtub she braced her hands on my shoulders, leaned up on the tips of her toes, and pressed her lips to mine.

I smiled against her mouth as I felt her arms move from my shoulder to my waist, then slide lower until they were spaces away from cupping my rear. I jumped when I felt a slight pinch of my butt.

"Hey," I said, moving so there was an inch of space between our lips.
She gave me a devilish grin then tilted her head down and placed a soft kiss along my shoulder. She pressed her tongue there, lapping at the beads of water that remained on my skin.

"You got room for me in there?"

My sex-fogged brain barely registered her words; I was so ready to devour her. But as the words donned to me, I decided to do a little teasing of my own.

I tilted my head to the side, as if it were a hard question that I really needed to think over. "Hmm, I think I can squeeze you in."

She didn’t have time to respond before I lifted her up and placed her under the spray of the water, shoes and all.

"Max!" I delighted in the little squeal she gave against my body as well as the shriek she let out as the water came down on her, but the sound was softened by the laughter that followed.

"What, you were already wet." I gave her the most innocent look I could muster before capturing her lips and effectively putting an end to anymore chastising she would have done.

I felt the moment she forgot about her outrage and allowed herself to bask in the glory of our kiss. Her arms slipped around me, attempting to pull me deeper into the kiss. I loved how she was never shy with me, always going for exactly what she wanted.

I felt the run of her tongue against my lips, silently asking me to allow her into my mouth. I playfully denied her request, drawing and withdrawing from our kiss, never staying long enough to allow her tongue entry.

She let out a sweet little whimpering pout that went all the way through my body. "Max, I want inside."

I was unprepared for the effect those words had on me. I felt my entire body harden from root to stem. Every point of my body felt as if it were about to explode into a million little pieces, and those into even more.

I took my wife’s lips forcefully, forcing them apart with my own and penetrating her mouth the way the hard cock between my legs wanted to penetrate her body. Her tongue was so sweet, dancing across my lips in the sexiest little strokes. The taste was intoxicating. I could have spent the rest of my life delved into the sea of her mouth.

I lifted her up against my chest and pressed her against the shower wall. She kicked her legs out, kicking off her shoes so that she could lock her legs around my hips more easily. A low groan escaped me as she began to grind her pelvis into mine, emulating the rhythm of sex.

Bending my head, I sucked at the dew that had begun to develop on her skin. Whether it was from the heat of the shower or the exquisite heat of our bodies, I wasn’t sure, but the taste of her skin mixed with the moister was a heavenly combination.

I felt her fingers grip tightly in my wet hair. Her mouth was pure desire and her kisses filled me with a passion unlike any I had ever felt before. The sensation of her body grinding against my groining was creating the most exquisite friction.

Her hands left my hair and I felt her fingers crawling down my back in light brushes of her nails against my skin.

As her head fell back against the tile of the shower wall I leaned in and laved my tongue against her smooth throat, kissing and sucking at the delectable skin.

Her chest pressed against my own and I could feel the wet material of her shirt against my skin. Pulling away from her throat, I glanced down at her.

The thin shirt clang to her breast, outlining the swell perfectly. I could see her pointed nipples through the thin material and my entire being tingled in anticipation of having the puckered areola and it’s crowned jewel between my teeth.

I moved my hands from her waste to the collar of her shirt and yanked the material apart, delighting in the sound of tearing fabric, and the brilliant view of her heaving breast.

I lifted her up higher against the wall so that her breasts were positioned perfectly in front of my face. They were mine for the taking.

She let out a pretty little gasp at the start of my suckling. Her breast in particular had been extra sensitive lately and I knew she enjoyed the sensation as much as I enjoyed the act.

I nipped at her nipple softly, then ran my tongue against her heated skin. I could feel the tiny pebbles swell even harder with every lave of my tongue. Her grinding had intensified and her body was now pounding into mine in a wild frenzy.

I enjoyed the grinding but it was getting us nowhere and I wanted so much to be inside her body. Pulling away from her succulent nipple, I stepped away from her and placed her feet on the tub, then knelt down in front of her.

My face lined perfectly with the button of her pants and I placed a kissed just beneath her belly button before undoing the button and unzipping the zipper. The first glimpse of her little cotton panties was like getting a glimpse at the gates of heaven.

The cotton was wet and clung to her body like a second skin. I could see the outline of the triangle between her legs, as I pushed her pants away reveling even more of her body.

The wetness of her pants made it hard to pull them away from her body, but the anticipation it built was well worth it. As I lowered the pants down her legs I followed their trail, leaving kisses along certain areas of her wet legs, until finally she was able to step out of them.

In that moment, as she stood there, wearing nothing but a pair of wet cotton underwear and a contented smile, she was my muse, my seraph, my goddess, and my heaven.

She reached down to me and took my hands in hers drawing me back up to my feet, then placed her hands on my hips and turned me around so that my back was to her front.

Her arms wrapped around my chest, playing along the creases of my body and traveling lower and lower as she went. She leaned into me, pressing her body against mine and lapping at the water as it rained down on the both of us.

I covered her hands with mine and began to guide them even lower until both of our hands were circling my cock.

Our rhythm started out slowly at first. Her hands moved languorously along my shaft as she stroked me. I let my hands fall way, leaving her to set the pace. She alternated between her leisurely strokes, and harder and fasters ones. Soon her pace changed altogether and her hand began to message my flesh faster and faster. I felt my arousal rising along with her increasing strokes, and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.

Placing my hand on top of hers once again, I stopped her movements all together and removed her hands from my body, before turning back to face her. She seemed upset by my halting her, but I just smiled and placed a short kiss on her lips.

"I want to look into your eyes when I come." I said, then kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t a short kiss.

She broke away from me on a moaning breath, then pressed her cotton-covered vagina into my stiff cock.

"Now Max, I can’t wait anymore, I want you in me now."

"Oh god yes."

The words had scarcely left my mouth before she started to push the cotton panties down her legs and finally off, leaving no barriers between us.

Entering her body was like coming home. Warm, familiar, the only place I ever wanted to be. Her body was so wet as it incased my hard erection. It felt so right, and so good. She pressed into me, pushing my back against the wall on her thrust and I felt my body began to slide down the wall as my feet slid down the tub, until I was laying on my back with her on top of me.

The water continued to spray down on us, and if it had grown cold, I didn’t notice. The only thing I was aware of was the beautiful woman above me, and the hard and fast rocking of her body.

I lifted my head up slightly and used my arms to pull her back down to me for a kiss. As our kiss deepened, her mouth opened against mine on a sharp moan and I groaned as I felt her body contract against me. She was almost there, and I was right there with her.

I sped up our pace, pushing harder into her as she rocked against me. I felt my orgasm building and judging by the way her body continuously tightened around me, she was close as well.

I thrust hard against her one final time, and allowed the orgasm that had been building since the moment I’d lifted her into the tub, take hold of me. I heard my name being called over and over as she contracted around me in orgasmic bliss.

"I love you." She breathed the words against my ears before resting her head on the crock of my shoulder in one last shutter…"I love you."

I gasped the words out as my orgasm poured through my body and I came into my own hand. As my body emptied into the shower, reality intruded upon me with a biting sting. And as the last instances of my orgasm began to fade, so did the memory that had helped to induce it.

The shower was cold now. Then, it had been barely noticeable. Nothing had been able to take my focus away from the touch of our skin against each other and the afterglow of our lovemaking, now it was an icy wakeup call that showed me just how different things truly were.

Moments afterwards, I stayed in the shower, wishing I could be that me with that her at that moment again. Wishing that things had never changed. Wishing that we could be that happy again.

TBC

[RosDude]

OK so I’m going to be out all day Thursday so I’m not going to have time to post. But fear not. Instead of making you guys wait until Friday or anything like that I’m going to make it an early Happy Thursday. So enjoy folks.

~Chad~

begonia9508: Hmm…you’re starting to catch on, but I still cant say anything.
Natz: Here’s more!
Alien_Friend: Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy my style. Yes we do gotta love Happy Thursday.
believer_evans: Thanks for reading. Yes. It is sad isn’t it?
Cocogurl: Everyone that’s wondering what the hell is going on between Max and his wife please raise your hands….hmm keep reading.
Sprayadhesive: See the above response. Lol
Evelynn: I can’t believe you came here just to pimp Malign. I actually did make a sig for malign back when I first started making banners. It really sucks but I’ll send it to you if you want.
CandyDreamQueen: Thanks candy. Stepping outside of your box just for me? I’m flattered.
Michelle in Yonkers: Michelle, I do love your comments. They make me...(bad pun warning)... Happy. lol I’m glad you continue to follow my stories over to this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as the others.

~~THREE~~

"Happy Birthday, old man."

Kyle Valneti’s voice was laced with sarcasm as it echoed across the speakerphone in my office. "Kyle, please. Let’s not start with the old man ribs."

I tried to let my voice come across as light, but in actuality Kyle was the last person that I wanted to talk to. Five seconds into the conversation and I was ready to tell him that I had a patient to see. Which was true, but not for another twenty minutes. Honestly, I didn’t really like the guy. But I put up with him because he and my sister Isabel had been close friends ever since high school. Because of that, she had insisted that I get to know him.

"I don’t know, Max, twenty-nine years old. That’s a little close to the big three-o, don’t you think."

I rolled my eyes at the telephone. "I don’t have a problem with it, Kyle. And besides, in my line of work, age equals respect."

Kyle’s laughter buzzed across the speaker. "Oh yeah, so I guess you should just tack your gray hairs on the wall right next to all those medical awards."

It was hard to keep my groan in. "Kyle, did you want something important. I’m seeing back-to-back patients so I don’t really have time for this."

"Right," Kyle said, clearly not believing me. "What are you and the Misses doing tonight?"

I paused. The two of us weren’t planning on doing anything tonight. I wasn’t really in a very festive mood. I’d decided to spare her the trouble of pretending she gave a crap. So I’d just told her I wanted to stay in.

"Why?" was all I said to Kyle.

"Is made reservations at Chez Pierre for eight. Surprise."

It sure was. I’d also made it very clear to my sister that I didn’t want to do anything special for my birthday.

"She said she knows you said you didn’t want to do anything to mark the occasion. And hey, I don’t blame you. But this is Isabel we’re talking about. Do you honestly think she would actually let you do something you wanted to do on your birthday?"

Even though it was a joke, my sister was famous for going above and beyond the call of duty when it involved…anything.

"Who all is supposed to be going?"

"Just her, Alex, Maria, Michael, me, and the two of you. Oh and Cindy, of course."

"Cindy?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Who’s Cindy?"

Kyle gave a pleased little laugh. "Cindy’s the girl I met at the DMV. She’s got the hottest little body. I promise you’ll like her."

I swear, Kyle Valenti changed girlfriends more than most people changed underwear. "What happened to Diana?"

"She was getting too clingy. We needed some space. Plus, she’s at her Mom’s this week. Someone died. Her grandpa or uncle or something."

"And so you broke up with her?" This was a new level of cruelty, even for Kyle.

"Hey Mom, when did you get on the phone? I thought I was talking to Max." Kyle’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.

"Fine." Kyle was a grown man and it wasn’t my business anyway.

"Look, are you coming or not? And if I were you, I would say yes. Because if it’s no then you’re going to be the one to drop the why to Is"

"I’ll have to see." I answered vaguely. Mostly I was just ready to end this conversation.

"Alright. But just make sure you get a hold of Isabel or me before eight. Talk to you later." Then he hung up.

I sat in my chair for a moment after disconnecting with Kyle. For the last month Isabel had been making plans for us all to ‘get together’. I knew my birthday was going to be no exception. If anything it was probably the ultimate opportunity. I’m sure it was just her way of keeping things together, but honestly, her not so subtle attempts of checking in on me were doing nothing but creating more stress.

As much as the two of us tried to pretend that everything was all right in front of the others, our friends weren’t stupid. They knew that things were not fine between us. And they hadn’t been ever since-

"Good afternoon, Dr. Evans." I looked up at the greeting that was followed by a soft rap on my door.

The resident nurse, Tess Harding was looking at me with a bright smile and big shining eyes as she entered my office with a clipboard under her arm. She was a very sweet, very friendly woman who I’d only been working with for a short amount of time, but she was very…helpful.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Harding." I answered back

"Your two o’clock, Mrs. McGinnis is in early,” she said as she handed me a clipboard. “She’s in room four."

I nodded and thanked her, then rose from my chair. Tess followed me as we walked down the hall to the room. “She was complaining of having some chest pains, and aching in her legs, but her BP and heart rate were normal.”

Paula McGinnis was a perfectly healthy eighty-nine year old woman that insisted she was one step away from the grave. Actually, she was healthier than some of the younger patients that I saw.

She was a surly old woman, which always made for interesting conversation during our examinations. But she had the annoying habit of acting more like my grandmother than my patient. Even so, I’d grown very fond of her over the course of the past three years that she had been with me. Of course, in the beginning she had not been very fond of me.

At our first meeting she’d looked me up and down with a snide sneer on her face, then demanded that she be given another doctor, "One that’s not young enough to be my grandchild twice over," were her exact words.

I wasn’t sure how many times I’d had to assure her that I was very much qualified to be her doctor. This, she had greatly protested.

"No offence kid, but I’ve got great-grandchildren older than you. I’m not about to let some twenty-something-year-old hotshot touch me with a ten-feet pole. Now, why don’t you be a good little boy and go and find me a real doctor."

It had taken both of us a while to get accustomed to each other. Over the years I’d learned not to take any of her insults or backhanded complements to heart, and she’d learned to trust me enough to be her twenty-something-year-old hotshot doctor.

"Hello Paula, how are you today?" I asked as I entered the examination room.

"Well, if I’m here to see you, I can't exactly be feeling like a spring chicken, now can I, kid? And I told you, it’s Mrs. McGinnis."

I grabbed the rolling chair from the corner of the room and wheeled it in front of the examination table that she was sitting on.

"And I told you, I’ll call you Mrs. McGinnis, when you call me Dr. Evans. Or just Max. I’m fine with that too, you know."

She made a face at me as I took a seat in front of her, but I could just see the hint of a smile turning up the corner of her lips. It disappeared before I had time to confirm it.

"Kid," she scoffed. "You youngsters have got no respect for your elders these days."

"Afraid not, Paula," I said taking out the vital reading that nurse Harding had taken on her.

"Well, it says here that your BP is One twenty-five over eighty, and your pulse is normal. This isn’t just an excuse to visit me is it?" I joked.

Paula blew out a puff of air. "Please, the less I see of that pretty mug of yours, the better off I am."

I ignored the backhanded complement. "So what seems to be the problem?" I said, using what Paula liked to refer to as my ‘doctor voice’.

"Aw, forget about me, what’s with the raccoon eyes? You look a mess, kid."

I should have expected her to notice. Paula McGinnis wasn’t exactly the women to get one over on.

"I’m the doctor, Paula and you’re the patient, remember?"

"That may be, kid, but I don’t want someone working on me that looks like they could use a good doc themselves."

I closed the chart, stood from my seat and plastered on as big a smile as I could muster. "I’m fine, don’t worry. And anyway, I doubt we’ll be needing to do any work on you today."

She ‘phfft’ again. "That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with these sore muscles and aching bone. I swear my joints feel like they’re about to disconnect any minute. You’re young kid, you’re just now growin’ into yours. Mine, I’ve been using these for eighty-nine long years, and not a day shorter."

"I’m sorry Paula, you’re right. I don’t know. So why don’t you tell me what’s been bothering you and I’ll see what I can do." I knew from experience that it was best to humor Paula when she went off on one of her rants.

"Well kid, I’ve been having these chest pains right up in here." She patted the middle of her chest. "And my legs, they’ve been killing me. You know, I used to have to walk a mile to the grocery store back in my day. Didn’t make not a one complaint about it." She smiled as if recalling a fond memory and rubbed her hands along her legs. "These old girls sure ain't what they used to be. Gotta get me one of those mechanical carts now. You know, with the little bitty baskets? What do they suppose people are gone’ fit in them little’ol things?"

I shrugged as I pulled a cuff out of the drawer to take Paula’s blood pressure myself. She just continued to chatter on merrily.

"And I swear, all those handicap spaces they got out in front of the store. It’s getting so there ain't no more parking for regular walking folk like us. They got two rows of handicap parking in front of the Safeway, now. Two rows! Now somebody tell me when there’s gonna be two rows worth of incompetent folk going to the Safeway? I’ve never seen it.

I nodded my head empathetically and placed my stethoscope on Paula’s back.

"Watch it kid, that thing’s cold," She shrieked.

I took the stethoscope away from Paula’s back and couldn’t help smiling at the look she gave. "I’m sorry," I said raising my hands in a defensive position. "Are you ready now?"

Her frown slowly disappeared and she turned back around before nodding her head. I smiled at her before placing the stethoscope back on her, and she continued to chatter away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our apartment was eerily quiet when I got home that evening. None of the lights had been turned on, but the blinds were drawn back from most of the windows, casting a dim glow over the room as the sun began to disappear from the sky.

I walked through the apartment, flipping on lights as I made my way to our bedroom. Unlike the others, the blinds in our room had been closed and the room was darkened aside from a few beams of light that speared in from the blind slats. I stopped walking as I entered the room and spotted my wife laid out on the bed, fast asleep.

She was curled up on her side of the bed, hugging the edge as if for a part of her body to touch my side would have been the ultimate sin. Her hair had fallen over the side of her shoulder, creating a mask of dark silk over her sleeping face. It was just as well. The sight of her face would only have served to drive the wedge of pain that had been lodged in my heart, straight through my core. I didn’t want to turn on the light. I actually preferred the darkness to it. Chances were the light would startle her awake and I would miss my chance at seeing her sleeping so serenely.

I remembered a time when I used to love to watch her sleep. Sleep was the side of a person that they didn’t even know existed. In sleep, people were unguarded and trusting. I had reveled in the idea of having her so trustingly with me. But as much as I loved to watch her sleep, it was in waking her that I found the most joy. There was something about being the first thing she saw when her eyes opened from her restful state that drove me wild with wanting her.

I couldn’t hold back my smile as the memory of one particular morning came to my mine. It had been the very first time that we slept together in the same bed. I’d sat up for about and hour just watching her sleep. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, and waking her had been one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. Like a fool trapped in an unbarred room, I stood there letting the memory of that day wash over me…

She lay on her left side with her backside pressed spot on along my front, our two bodies curving perfectly together. The one arm that I had curved around her body had long since fallen asleep, but I had given up caring just as long ago. Her body felt so soft against mine, like layers of cotton covered by the sheerest, smoothest material I had ever felt in my life.

For a while I just laid there, slowly running my hand along the skin of her arm, and letting the touch of her skin dance across my senses. She made a little sound in her sleep and then burrowed closer into my body before drifting back off.

I leaned my head down until my lips were aligned with her shoulder and kissed the creamy skin that was exposed to me. She didn’t stir again as I placed more kisses along the curve of her shoulder and arm, and if she registered my movements as I pushed myself away from her so that her back was pressed against the mattress, she didn’t give a sign.

I managed to pull myself away from her long enough to catch a quick glance at the digital clock that as sitting on her nightstand. It was almost seven o’clock, about the time I knew she would want to wake up. The realization put a huge damper on my mood. But as I sat up in the bed an idea accrued to me that I knew would leave both of us at least a little satisfied.

I reached over and switched off the alarm clock, then repositioned myself so that my body was braised on my arms above her. I hovered over her for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out, then allowed my body to sink down on top of hers.

Her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks for a moment but not long enough to signify that she had awakened. I felt her arms warp loosely around my back before she nodded back off.

Now laying fully on top of her, I bent down and positioned my head in the crock of her neck, letting it rest on her shoulder as my lips connected with her throat. She let out a half sigh half moan as I kissed my way along her neck, and I could feel her start to move as her senses awakened with her body.

I continued my kissing frenzy along her neck and slowly, teasingly, made my way across her throat, up her chin, and on to her lips. My lips only touched hers for a moment, softly brushing across the soft petals of her rose red mouth. Her eyes were now opened as she looked up at me. The telling signs of sleep were still etched across her beautiful face. I smiled down at her and placed a kiss on her pert little nose before softly whispering ‘good morning’ to her.

I watched as her eyes cleared with awareness and her lips turned up in a happy greeting smile. I could not resist kissing those lips again as I felt her body start to undulated beneath mine.

“Well, it is now,” she said, and I felt the added pressure of her arms around me before she forced me inside of her body. There was actually little force needed, my silly kisses had already made sure that she was more then ready for me, and I was definitely ready for her...

I shoved that memory aside as quickly as I could. I was already well aware of the effect that those types of memories had on me. Now was most certainly not the time or the place for them.

That was a fact that was sadder then anything. In the privacy of my own home, in my bedroom, with my sleep sexy wife, on my birthday, was not the time to be thinking about sex. Life had certainly changed from the way it used to be.

Getting myself back under control, I maneuvered my way though the room, just managing to catch sight of her shoes before I had the chance to trip over them. As I approached the bed my feet dragged against the hard wood floor like two balls of iron shackled to my legs. When I reached her bedside, I knelt down beside her and placed a hand against the skin of her bare shoulder. She had always been a light sleeper, and the touch of my hand against her skin was enough to rouse her from sleep.

When her eyes opened they peered into mine with the bright disorientation brought about by sleep. But in the seconds after the fog cleared, my gaze fixed on her and her eyes smiled at me in such a way I was not aware they were still capable of. That smile transferred from her eyes to her mouth, and for the first time in months, my wife was smiling at me.

I desperately wanted to freeze that moment forever and lock it in a safe place in my heart that the pain and agony of the last month could not hope to touch. But all too soon the unawareness wore off her face, and the now rare gift of her smile disappeared into the smooth lines of her rounded cheeks.

She sat up in the bed, her movements quick and uncomfortable, as if she were embarrassed to have had such a lapse in demeanor as to allow herself to smile at me.

I got up from my crouched position and sat down on the space on the bed that became unoccupied as she drew her legs to her chest. There was a moment of absolute silence as the two of us sat on our bed like two complete strangers, living, breathing in the same space.

"How long have you been home?" she asked. My back was to her but I didn’t have to turn around to know she was messing her hand through her hair as she spoke. It was a small trait of hers that she did upon waking.

"Just got in," I answered. I felt the bed dip and rise behind me as she scooted off the side. I waited a moment before standing up myself.

"Isabel made dinner reservations for tonight." I turned to face her as I spoke, wanting to see what, if any reaction she would have to this.

"Oh," her expression did not change. "I thought you wanted to stay in tonight?"

I shrugged, "We don’t have to go if you don’t want to." Honestly, I didn’t much feel like pasting on the happy face for our friends. Nor did I want to pretend that I was having a happy birthday.

"No, it’s fine. We can go. Just give me some time to…"

I nodded my head not needing an explanation. "Right."

She nodded her head, and for a second time we stood in awkward silence before she turned away from me and headed towards the bathroom.

As the door closed behind her, I stood in the middle of our bedroom, contemplating and not looking forward to the rest of the evening.

TBC

[RosDude]

Alien_Friend: Thanks for reading. I’m glad you liked the memory, which actually was not in the original version of the chapter. But anyway…yeah. Keep reading keep watching keep wondering.
sprayadhesive: Thanks for reading. As always I’ll be mum on the details but it’s interesting to see what everyone thinks.
begonia9508: Well if Max would just talk with his wife and try to sort everything out I would be out of a story. Lol It’s just more fun this way.
Emz80m: By all means speculate. I love to see what my readers are thinking.
guelbebek: Maybe ...Maybe ...Maybe Thanks for reading
Walking Contradiction: I’m always happy when a lurker says I brought them out of lurkdom. Makes me feel like I’ve done a kick a$$ job. Also very interesting theories. I’m happy you came out of lurkdom to share them.
Natz: Thank you much. It’s not so much as Max’s wife does not notice that he’s suffering, but Max himself isn’t really going above and beyond the call of duty to say :”Hey, I’m not happy” to her either. But then I suppose on some level she should be able to tell just as easily as he can…ok now I’m analyzing my own characters lol so…thanks for reading…(walks away lamely)
cocogurl: Can't think about sex! And on his birthday! That’s like a ‘must have sex’ day. Well for me anyway. Thanks for reading.
CandyDreamQueen: I’m debating the knife Candy but I think I’ll go with an ice pick. They make cleaner incisions. Straight in straight out, that sort of thing. Honestly, thanks for reading. I’m glad you found “the old lady” amusing.
cassie: hmm, I’ve lost track of the puns. I’m lazy that way. There have not been anymore have there? Thanks for reading.
dreamsatnight: Welcome, and thanks for reading.

HAPPY Thursday Everyone

~~FOUR~~

The restaurant was extremely crowded. This came as no surprise to me seeing as how Chez Pierre was typically a difficult restaurant to get into, due to its back-to-back monthly booking. It was a moderately upscale restaurant. The service was good and the environment tended to draw in a more mellowed crowd. There was something about it that was more inviting then the typical ornamental restaurants.

Because of its popularity, the place was most often booked months in advance. The one time I had eaten here, had been when the hospital had held a doctors and nurses luncheon a few months back. The fact that we were even here told me that my sister must had been planning this little get-together for quite some time. Circumstances being what they were between my wife and I, I was not thankful for her ‘early planning.’

As the two of us walked further into the room, I immediately spotted our party seated at a table not far away from the bar that sat in the middle of the dining area. There was also a small dance floor to the left of the bar, where a live band was currently playing a soft ballad. As was typical from my last experience, the bar was crowded with people standing around chatting, and having a good time, and the dance floor was moderately full of couples dancing happily.

The two of us navigated our way through the crowd until we reached our table. Isabel stood up from her seat as we came closer and walked over to greet the two of us.

"Max, you came!" My sister wrapped me into a hug and placed a kiss on my cheek. "When I didn’t hear from you I thought you would bail out." She glanced down at her watch and then frowned at me. "You’re late, but it’s your birthday, so I’ll forgive you."

I smiled politely, not wanting to disappoint her by expressing my true feelings about coming tonight. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and it was my birthday after all. I didn’t want to bring down everyone’s mood with an argument.

I stood in the middle of our group allowing myself to be kissed and patted on the back by friends and well-wishers as happy birthdays were sent my way. The two of us sat down and ordered dinner, which everyone had waited on us to do, a fact that Michael was not happy about. After dinner was served, Isabel Maria and Cindy, who I had been formally introduced to, stood up to go to the restroom.

No one seemed to notice that my attention remained constantly diverted between my friends and my wife. I found myself relentlessly watching her as she smiled and laughed at a joke that Alex had just made.

"So, how does it feel?" I allowed my attention to be taken away as someone came up and patted me on the back. I turned around to see Michael, standing behind me with two drinks in his hand. I took the one he offered to me before answering.

"Long and hard, Michael." I answered jokingly before taking a sip of my drink.

Michael laughed and patted me on the back. "Ha, very funny Maxwell." He pulled out the seat next to me, which Isabel had previously been sitting in, and sat down "Seriously, twenty-nine. Just think, you’re wild and crazy years are almost over, pretty soon it’s going to be time for you to settle down and get a real job."

I laughed, it was an ongoing joke between the two of us that I wasn’t the most carousing guy in the universe. I just never really had much interest in being that way.

"Hopefully I’ll be able to put my wild oat sowing days behind me." I joked.

Michael slapped me on the back and leaned back in his chair. "So, nice shindig, huh?"

"Shindig?" I asked.

He shrugged, "You know Isabel has been planning this thing for months."

"So I heard."

"Yeah well, just do her a favor and pretend like you’re having a good time." He said. The two of us looked at Isabel who was talking excitedly to Maria and Cindy as they walked back to our table.

"You mean like you’re doing for Maria?" I knew first hand that this wasn’t Michael’s kind of scene.

He shrugged again and took another sip of his drink. "The liquors good, the food was bearable, I can’t complain."

I laughed, that was Michael for you.

"Heeeey Mmmaax!"

I looked up at the sound of someone calling my name in a singsong voice to see Alex and Kyle smiling at me like two Cheshire cats as two waiters came towards our table toting a cake so huge, eight people couldn’t ever dare hope to consume it.

"You guy’s what the- How many bakeries did you deprive of frosting to get this thing?"

The waiters sat the monster cake down in front of me on the table. It really was a nice cake. It was chocolate, my favorite, with the words Happy Birthday Max written across in blue calligraphy icing. There were also what I could only assume where twenty-nine candles surrounding the border of the cake.

Suddenly, someone, I’m not even sure if they were at our table or not, broke into a drunken version of happy birthday that quickly spread around the entire restaurant. I couldn’t help but laugh at the inventive things that came out of people’s mouth when they got to my name, which the majority of them didn’t know. Then Maria shouted for me to make a wish and blow out the candles. Trick candles, thanks to Alex, that required all eight of us to blow out and finally keep out.

The night went on in a haze of cake, drinks, and conversation, which I found mildly entertaining. I still would have rather spent a quiet night at home, but I couldn’t begrudge my sister or my friends for the tremendous effort they had put forth for my benefit.

But around eleven o’clock, I was more than ready to head home. After assuring Michael that it was more than fine with me if he took the rest of the cake off my hands, I stood up from my seat and went to meet my wife, who had moments before excused herself.

It didn’t take me long to find her. I blinked hard, wondering if there was any possibility that my eyes could have been playing tricks on me, but after being assured that they weren’t, I continued to stare at the bar where my wife was sitting. Laughing. Talking. To another man.

My first instinct was to run over to the bar, yank him off his stool and clonk him in the eye for good measure. Then drag her out of the restaurant and as far away as I could possibly get her, say Alaska?

Too irrational.

Instead, I walked over to the two of them and stood purposely beside her stool before placing a kiss on the side of her forehead.

"Hey," I said bringing her attention to me.

She looked up at me as if she were startled, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the kiss or my sudden appearance.

"I’m ready to go." I said, my eyes boring into the guy. I didn’t have to see myself to know my eyes were screaming ‘mine’ loud and clear.

"Oh, yeah, ok." She looked at the guy and then back to me. "Um, Max this is my friend Sean. Sean’s a colleague of mine. We work together at the lab. Sean, this is Max, my husband." Sean smiled politely at me and stuck his hand out to me. I wanted to break it.

"Nice to meet you, Sean." I didn’t take his hand.

I took petty satisfaction in watching Sean retract his hand awkwardly before glancing back at our table. "So I take it you’re the Max we were singing happy birthday to earlier."

Well, wasn’t Sean a smart cookie.

I nodded and turned back around to face my wife. "I’m ready to go." I repeated.

Her eyes held mine, and I could see a hint of anger, and possibly embarrassment, but I didn’t care. I was sure there were a whole horde of things she could see in my eyes, anger and embarrassment only scratching the surface.

She dropped my gaze and smiled over at Sean. "Ok, well Sean, it was nice talking to you. I’ll see you later." She said as she stood from her seat.

Sean stood up and placed his hand affectionately on her shoulder. "Yeah, I’ll see you later, sweetheart."

Sweetheart! I almost bit my tongue off to keep from making a scene. If he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek he was a dead man.

Apparently Sean was picking up my non-too-friendly vibes, because he didn’t lean in to kiss her as I suspected he would have if I had not been standing there, and instead he turned around and walked away. Smart man indeed.

"Let’s go," I said taking her hand in what I was sure wasn’t a gentle manner and steering her towards the exit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I could sense the fight brewing before either of the two of us spoke a word. There’s a feeling, a kind of calm before the storm, which lingers in the air building tension and unease. Our apartment was swamped in that feeling when we returned home that night.

My eyes followed her around our bedroom as she went through the perfunctory process of removing her clothes and jewelry. I remembered a time when watching her undress after a long day had been one of the greatest joys of my life. Now, as I watched her strip off the soft satin red dress she had worn tonight, and let the material puddle beneath her on the floor, I didn’t feel the usual ache in my groin, followed by the wild and undeniable desire to have her. I just felt mad.

My ears focused oddly, on the clanging sound of her wedding ring and earrings hitting wood as she placed them haphazardly on top of the dresser, and headed for the bathroom.

I sat on the bed for a moment listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and the ever-frequent sounds that signaled her presence. Try as I might to put it out of my head, I could not stop thinking about the guy from the restaurant. Her collogue, her friend. My thoughts of him would not die the death I wanted them to. Instead, I could do nothing but focus masochistically on his every action of the night. The way he smiled at her. The way he talked to her. The way his hand brushed along her arm.

I could tell that my jealousy was getting the better of me, and frankly, I had probably had one too many drinks tonight, but none of that was of consequence to me. All that mattered was that another man had stared at, touched, and smiled at my wife, and she in turn had smiled back. Smiled! Something she had not done at me in months.

I could feel the anger boiling up inside me like a pot of water on a stovetop, left long unattended. Perhaps it was that which drove me to my feet and forced me to stalk into the bathroom behind her.

She paid little attention to me as I entered the room and watched her standing there wearing nothing but her panties and bra. She wiped a towel over her face, removing what little makeup she had chosen to wear tonight. She was so beautiful that for a moment I almost forgot my anger and my all-together reason for coming into the bathroom, and instead I found myself imagining for a moment that I was that towel, caressing her skin with long swipes across her face.

It had been so long since I had really touched her face. Not just a swift brush of my lips against her cheek, but a real touch. My fingers actually splaying across her cheek, feeling the texture of her skin, the smoothness of it, the softness of it. My cheek running along side hers in an action of pure uncontrolled abandonment. My tongue stroking along the underside of her chin, letting the remembered taste of her linger in my mouth.

The memory of what I had been so denied brought my anger rushing right back up to the surface. The fact that in all this time the two of us hadn’t been able to be truly close to each other, while she could find comfort in chatting with a friend from work almost made me sick to my stomach with jealousy. I was her husband, me. Not anyone else, and yet the two of us could barely have a conversation.

Slowly, I found myself walking closer to her until I was standing directly behind her. I was ready to yell, fight, tear down the walls with my anger, but in that moment as she swiped the towel over her face one last time, and terrycloth revealed her makeup less face to me, my eyes locked with hers in the mirror.

I could see the moment her reflection took me in as more than just another presences in the bathroom. Her eyes held mine only for a second. But in that second, her eyes, which had always been so open and revealing to me, showed me nothing.

I could almost feel her withdrawal as if it were a tangible thing. Yet, when she would have inched away form me, I found myself placing one hand on her shoulder, the other on her chin, and tilting her head so that our gazes were once again locked in the mirror. This time I did see something, but it was something I had never imagined I would see in my wife’s indicative eyes before.

Ennui, a long world-weariness that shot from her eyes and ran straight down to the core of my soul.

"Max," her voice was whisper soft as she spoke. Either my imagination was playing tricks on me, or I could just make out the hint of a plea in the short one syllable word of my name.

"Yes?" I answered, begging her to talk to me, to trust in me, and to let that lethargy seep from her body into mine. I would take it, I would bask in it, I would absorb all of it unto myself if it meant ridding her of the damned emotion.

"I…" I could sense she wanted to look away from me, but my hand was now plastered firmly to her chin, forcing her to remain with me. I would not be denied, not again.

"I…I’m really tired, Max." I watched as her lids slowly slid closed over the top of her eyes, finding the one way that she could shut me out.

My heart ached at her words and her action. I was tired too. I was so tired that for the first time in months I allowed myself to wonder what it would feel like to just give up. To stop fighting, stop hurting, to just stop. I closed my eyes and wondered if what I was doing was futile, if my wife was gone and I was desperately, stupidly clinging to something that was no longer there. If I was fooling myself into believing that things could ever be the way they were before…

I leaned my head down, placing it against her cool damp shoulder as I let my hand fall away from her face, our bodies now only touching with my forehead to her shoulder. "I know," was all I said and then turned to leave the bathroom.

But as I made to turn around I was stopped when my eyes caught sight of something I hadn’t taken the time to look at in a long time. In our bathroom, mounted on the wall behind our toilet was a framed miniature Corinthians poster. It had been a gift from my mom or her mom, I couldn’t even really recall, when the two of us had first moved in together.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

The poster looked down on me, its words repeating in my head over and over like a sect mantra, or a sick joke. But even as I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out of existence, I felt my heart start to pound loudly in my own ears. Looking at the words, I felt my resolve strengthen, and for the first time in a long time, I felt hope.

I looked down at my wife, who had at some point turned to face me. She still made a point not to look at me, but trapped between the sink and myself, there was nowhere she could run.

She lifted her hands to my chest in an action I was sure was meant to push me away, but I did not waver. Instead, I leaned closer into her so that our faces were scant inches apart.

"I know you’re tired." I started softly. "I’m tired too." Slowly my arms began to draw up her waist, until she was completely enfold in my embrace. "We can go lay down if you want." I kissed her softly on the lips. "I’ll hold you and we can just…lay down." I kissed her again before she could answer. On her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, anywhere my lips could reach. I felt her arms slowly, diffidently, creep up from my chest and swathe over my shoulders. I drew her closer to me and lifted her a little so that she was sitting on top of the sink. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I lifted her up into my arms without a second thought and carried her out of the bathroom.

"Happy Birthday, Max." she whispered, just as the door closed behind us.

TBC

[RosDude]

Dreamsatnight
Daydreamer23
begonia9508
guelbebek
Alien_Friend
Natz
Cocogurl
Cassie
Michelle in Yonkers
Evelynn
Thetvgeneral
Dream Weaver

Happy Thursday . Sorry I'm late everyone but I had some comp problems. I wont go on for long so here we go. and thanks for the Feedback

~~FIVE~~

When I opened my eyes this morning my wife was still asleep beside me. I absorbed the feeling. I hadn’t felt this way in so long. The act of waking up beside the woman I loved was simple, yet it brought a joy to my life that I hadn’t felt in months. Instead of getting up and risking waking her, I reclined against the headboard, not touching her, not even making a conscious effort to get into a more comfortable position. I just watched her. I watched her because I could.

It was a nice feeling. After not really seeing her for so long it was the most fascinating thing to just look at her. Her hair seemed darker, more vibrant, her skin pinker, her body fuller. Everything about her just seemed…more. More alluring, more desirable, more innocent, more beautiful. God, she seemed so beautiful. She was like living art. Perfectly framed and sculpted to the point where there was no room for the slightest possible improvement.

She stirred in her sleep, and I could tell by her movements that she was in the process of waking up. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be the first thing she saw when she opened those beautiful eyes.

They fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim morning light of our bedroom. Then they locked on to me and I almost forgot to breathe. Her cheeks were pink with sleepy warmth and her eyes half-mast and a little fuzzy. Her hair was going every which way on top of her head and there was even the smallest strand stuck to the corner of her mouth. I smiled down at her, feeling a keen sense of delight. She had never looked more beautiful to me.

Catching my smile and probably interpreting it the wrong way, she combed a hand through her hair as she looked down uncomfortably at her pillow.

“Good morning.” I whispered, giving her cheek a soft nuzzle in order to let her know how adorable I thought she was.

“Hi,” her voice was still sleep-soft as she buried her face against my side.

I lifted my shoulder and adjusted myself so that she was tucked underneath my arm. “You want some breakfast?” I asked as I messed with the muddled mass of hair on the top of her head. She made a face that said that breakfast was the last thing on her mind.

“No breakfast, but some orange juice would be nice.”

I smiled down at her “Orange juice?”

“Yes, please.”

“How about fresh squeezed?” I added.

“Sounds good.”

“With plenty of pulp?”

“Delicious.”

“And in a glass?” I couldn’t stop smiling.

She smiled back. “If that makes it easier for you to carry it.”

I laughed again and stroked my palm across her face. I couldn’t believe it. We were actually having a conversation. Regardless of the pointlessness of it, it was still a real conversation. We were touching and laughing. Smiling! We were actually smiling at one another.

“Alright, fresh squeezed orange juice with plenty of pulp and in a glass coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

I rolled out of bed feeling like I was able to tackle the world. My feet felt as if I were walking on air, or cloud nine as they say, as I headed for the kitchen. I went to the fridge and took out a few oranges, tossing one up and catching it in my other hand. Things were looking up.

When I got back to our room I was surprised and a little upset to find that she was no longer in our bed where I’d left her. I know it was the epitome of corny cheesiness but a soft part of me wanted to surprise her with the whole breakfast in bed with a corny little flower that I’d stolen from the vase in the kitchen.

When I heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom I breathed a sigh of relief. My surprise was not completely spoiled. She had probably just run in for a moment. And anyway, I could use the time to set up my surprise for her.

I spent a few dumb moments primping the flower and moving the tray around until I felt it was positioned at the perfect angel on the bed. Right between the two of us in what would be the perfect vantage point for feeding her a bit of my breakfast if the desire came upon me. After everything was ready, I reclined back on the bed and waited for my wife to arrive.

It may have only been a few minutes before I decided that I had better go and check on her, but it seemed much longer. I opened the door slowly and stepped into the bathroom.

She was standing in front of the mirror with the water running but she didn’t really seem to be paying attention to it. Her face was wet and her eyes were closed. Both of her hands were braced on the edge of the sink and she wobbled a little as if a good breeze was all it would take to send her tumbling over.

A sense of fear that I had never felt before in my life gripped me as I watched her start to slide to the floor.

Although my heart was pounding loudly in my chest, and I could hardly breathe, my reaction was quick and I caught her to me just as she would have slid to the floor.

“Honey, what’s the matter? Are you ok?” My voice sounded frantic to my own ears, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was making sure she was ok. Letting her lean on me for support, I sat the two of us down on the floor beside the bathtub.

“What’s wrong?” I asked and immediately began running my hands along every inch of her body I could reach. Her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish. Her arms. There was goose flesh along them but she wasn’t clammy. Her cheeks. Damp still, but her color seemed good.

I frowned down at her when she brushed my hands away. “I’m fine Max, I just got a little dizzy, that’s all. I just haven’t quite woken up yet.”

I wasn’t buying that excuse for one second.

“Don’t move.” I said when she tried to get up. And I didn’t care when she shot an annoyed look in my direction.

“Max, I’m fine.” She insisted.

“No you’re not.” My words came out a bit more sharply than I intended them to. “You just collapsed.”

“I did not collapse, I just…I…”

I watched in rapt horror as my wife’s eyes clouded and she looked as if she were about to be sick right there on the side of the bathtub. And then the really horrifying thing happened. She was sick right there on the side of the bathtub. And a little on me as well.

I could do nothing but sit idly by while she emptied the contents of her stomach into the tub. My body felt as if it were frozen. I didn’t know what to do. I have the title of doctor before my name, and yet I felt like helpless child lacking any medical knowledge. I couldn’t move for fear that I would jostle her and cause her to be even sicker. More than ever, I wanted to comfort her. However, judging from the way she made sure to keep her head for the most part turned away from me, I knew that my comfort was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t even want to look at me.

When she was done being sick and I regained movement in the rest of my body, the two of us remained seated firmly on our bathroom floor, neither of use saying a word.

After a while I felt her start to try to move again and heard her groan as she looked inside of the bathtub. “Oh no.” she whispered quietly, and then she groaned again.

“It’s ok.” I said my voice containing more reassurance than I truly felt. “Don’t worry about it.” I placed my hand on her stomach and began rub it softly. But I was stopped when she jerked suddenly away from me.

I frowned at her surprising actions and she looked at me strangely as if she were searching for something in my gaze.

And that’s when it dawned on me. Very slowly and very precisely. My eyes went directly back to her stomach where she had pushed my hand away and had replaced with her own. Like a light switch being suddenly flicked on, the shadows of confusion were chased away. Pieces began to come together in my head. All the signs that I had been oblivious to began to come together like a jigsaw.

Was she…?

Ignoring her continued evasiveness I moved my hand back to her stomach before looking back to her eyes. This time she didn’t look away, but I could see clearly in her eyes that I was seeing something she desperately didn’t want me to see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
I make it a habit not to work late. I know my limits, what I am capable of, and what is beyond my means. Still, in my profession I find myself forming close bonds with my patients. I have often been told that it is not my job to save the world. Even so, if I can work one miracle for one person doing what it is I love to do then I’ve saved their world. More often than not, that’s good enough for me.

It’s not hard for me to admit that Paula McGinnis is a very special patient of mine. Although I like to think that all the relationships that I have formed with all of my patients are special, there is just something about Paula that places her on a field all her own.

As much as I would like to deny it, she has becomes somewhat of a grandmother to me. And though the most our sessions ever last is an hour or two, I find that when I am talking to her, whether she just be jabbering on, or the two of us are actually engaged in meaningful conversation, she always manages to put a smile on my face. Though whether or not that is always her intention is sometimes debatable.

That is why as I sat in my office looking at the lab results for the x-rays we had done on Paula at her last visit I felt a sudden pang in my heart. Tess was standing beside me as I looked over the results, and though she remained silent, I was pretty sure she could see the look of shock that I wasn’t able to hide from my face.

“These are Paula McGinnis’s labs, correct?” I knew the answer, but there was something in me that forced me to ask the question anyway.

“Yes doctor, these are the labs we took on Paula McGinnis.”

It had only been one week since I had last seen Paula. I didn’t usually schedule our appointments within such close proximity but Paula had insisted that she was in a lot of pain so I scheduled an x-ray for her and told her we would go over the labs at her next appointment. I suppose when you deal with people on a medical level you tend to think you know more about their bodies than they do. After a while you even start to forget that a person with a habitually clean bill of health can suddenly take a dramatic turn. But people are people, and we are, if nothing else, an unpredictable species.

“I put Mrs. McGinnis in room one, doctor.” The look on Tess’s face was sympathetic as she spoke. “Here are her vitals. Weight’s still the same and BP is normal,” she said as she handed me the chart.

“Thank you, Tess. Tell Paula I’ll be in to see her in a moment.” Tess nodded and exited my office, closing the door behind her.

With Paula’s chart and x-rays sill in my hand I reached across my desk and picked up my phone, then dialed home. I waited for the voicemail to pick up.

“Hey, it’s me.” I paused for a second as I looked back down at Paula’s X-ray. “I’m going to be working late.”

When I entered the examination room, Paula was, as she always had been, sitting on the examination table and looking rather annoyed.

“Hello, Paula.” I smiled at her and made sure to close the door behind me as I entered, not wanting the noise of the busy hallway intruding upon us.

Paula gave me scathing look. “Mrs. McGinnis,” she corrected then smiled back at me. “Hey, Kid. Can’t say I’m glad to be seeing you again so soon.”

I smiled at her as I always did and took up the rolling chair beside the table.

“Is that me?” she asked nodding towards the chart in my hand.

I nodded. “We have things to talk about.”

She sighed and sat up on the table a little straighter. “Kid, when you say it like that it doesn’t make me feel too inclined to talk.”

Though Paula was the first to complain about her mortality coming to its end, there was an air about her that told me she had a pretty good idea of what was coming and she wasn’t looking forward to hearing what I had to say.

“Alright, give it to me straight, kid” she said, hunching her shoulders back as if she were preparing herself to take a physical blow. Straightforward and ready to take on the world. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Paula.

I opened up the folder that contained Paula’s x-rays and pasted them against the view box. “These are the x-rays that we took of your chest and legs where you indicated you had been feeling some pain.” I positioned myself so that she could see the x-rays clearly. “After going over your x-rays it seems that you are developing what may be a tumor on your ribs and femur.”

I paused for a moment, giving her the time to react if she needed to. Paula looked at me for a long time, the expression on her face unreadable. It was a shock to see Paula, who had always been so animated and never at a lost for words, completely silent.

She didn’t stay that way for long.

“A tumor?” she sounded as if she almost didn’t believe me. “On my ribs and femur? Sorry kid, but I don’t speak doctor, so you’re going to have to tell me exactly what that means?”

“Well, that can mean a few things.” None of which were good. “But in order to find out completely there are a few test that need to be done first.”

Paula rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t give me all of that doctor gobbledygook, kid.” Her face was straight as an arrow. “I don’t want to hear you dancing around an answer. Tell me what you think it means?”

Unless you were a callous cold-hearted son of a bitch it was always difficult to tell a patient that you suspected they had something potentially terminal. It was particularly difficult to tell a patient that you may have cared for on more than just a doctor to patient level.

“Well, one of the most likely possibilities is that you may be developing a type of bone cancer. But in order for me to be completely sure there are some other tests that I would like to administer. We can do a biopsy of the infected areas to test for cancerous cells. As well as a number of other tests that will tell us if this is what I’m thinking it is. The main thing we want to focus on is determining whether or not this is cancer, and then we can work accordingly from there.”

As Paula’s eyes met mine I could not read her expression. I had no idea what she was feeling or what she was thinking. Her usually dynamic face gave nothing away, and for the first time she seriously looked at me as if I were her doctor and she was my patient.

“Are you alright Paula?” I asked, and because I couldn’t help myself, I reached over and took her hand in mine.

Paula looked up at me and smiled kind of sadly. “Well to tell you the truth, doc, I was hoping you were going to say this was just a bad case of arthritis.” She laughed and then patted my hand reassuringly as if I were the one that needed comforting right now. Paula never ceased to amaze me.

“We’re going to take care of this, Paula.” I found myself saying the words before I could stop them. I didn’t usually say things like that to my patients. In no way was I god, nor was I a miracle worker. I knew that. It wasn’t in me to make promises I couldn’t keep. But Paula compelled the words right out of me and I knew then I would do everything I possibly could to make sure that I kept my promise to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was past seven when I entered my apartment later that night. Although I had finished seeing my last patient at around five, I’d spent a few more hours going over Paula’s past medical records, looking for any possible sign that I could have missed that would have given any indication of Paula possibly developing cancer. It was hard work. Maybe even a bit futile. But if Paula truly had been developing chondrosarcoma, which is what I was starting to believe she was, I was going to make sure I did everything in my power to help her.

Paula had been checked into the hospital after our appointment and she was scheduled to receive several tests the following day. I was going to go over and see her myself first thing in the morning. I was sure she wouldn’t want to see me looking tired and stressed out. No, I knew Paula wouldn’t want to see that.

So after two hours of checking and rechecking everything there was to know medically about Paula McGinnis, I finally headed home.

When I entered the apartment I was immediately hit by the smell of something wonderful. Was that…something cooking? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smelled anything being cooked in our apartment. I was beginning to think that our kitchen was a tomb utilized only to store frozen dinners and as a place to plug in our microwave.

I took a big whiff of the air again as I made my way to the kitchen and the wonderful aroma it exuded. But as I stepped into the room, my sudden spiritedness cut short when I caught sight of my sister Isabel standing at our kitchen counter wearing a little white apron tied around her waist.

“Oh, hi, Iz…what are you? Where is…?”

“Out. She’ll be back soon.” Isabel answered before I could finish my question. “Do you want to get cleaned up before dinner?”

“Oh,” I was still confused by her presence. I sat my briefcase down and took a seat at the kitchen counter. “No I… what exactly are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound rude but I wasn’t really used to my sister popping up and cooking good smelling food in my home.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I decided to pop by.” She said as she tossed a handful of something into a pan on the stove.

“In the neighborhood, really? With risotto and,” I picked up an open can of spice and sniffed it. “Spicy smelly stuff?”

“It’s saffron, you idiot.” I smiled as I allowed her to snatch the spice away from me. “And yes. I though it would be nice to come over and cook my little brother a nice homemade dinner. I doubt that you’ve had one of those in a while.”

“Isabel,” I started to cut her off, knowing she was about to start in on me, but she continued as if I hadn’t spoken a word.

“And last night was good but you can hardly eat gourmet food every night for the rest of your life.”

“Isabel,”

“One, there are a ton of calories and the last thing you want to worry about is your cholesterol shooting through the roof. I mean after all, Max, you really need to start worrying more about yourself and the foods you eat. You are a doctor, so this really shouldn’t be a surprise to you-”

“Isabel!”

Finally she stopped.

“I’m fine, really. It’s not like we’re over here binging on junk food and ice cream.”

Isabel looked at me doubtfully. “Really?” she turned around and walked over to the fridge. “Then what is this?” She asked, pulling something out and holding it in front of me as if it were exhibit A.

I laughed when I saw what she was holding up. “What, they’re pizza rolls.” I explain. So much for not binging on junk food.

“Oh, nonono, not just pizza rolls. They’re Totinos.” She said underlining the brand name with a flourish of her hand.

“And let’s check out this appealing nutrition factor on these delectable little pizza bites shall we, doctor Evans?” I covered my face with my hand as she flipped the bag around. I knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“Hmm let’s see. Calories, 578.76 grams. Total fat, 28.41 grams, that’s rich. Oh oh and look here, look here. 1301.68 milligrams of sodium. Well, if this isn’t enough to jump start you right into an early grave, I don’t know what is.” She tossed the bag back into the fridge.

“Isabel, you are aware that sister and mother are not synonymous.” I asked only half joking.

“And Max, you are aware that there are other options for meals besides what can be thrown in the microwave for two to three minutes?”

“Yes, but it’s so much easier than having my sister come over and pester me about my eating habits.” I teased.

“Really?! Even if your sister is taking time out of her hard and busy day to cook you a fabulous meal?”

“Hmm, maybe.” I pretended to think it over for a moment. “That depends on if my sister was using this fabulous meal as a means to check up on me.”

Isabel looked away from me as if she had been caught red handed. I sighed and sat back in my chair. “So this is a ploy to check up on me.”

“Well, Max, you can’t blame me for being worried about you.” I watched the teasing smile disappear from Iz’s face as she picked up a towel and wiped her hands on it. Something told me the light air of the conversation was about to take a dramatic turn.

“Max, I know that the two of you have had a ruff year. I know that it’s not easy to talk. But it’s worse to not talk. It’s there. Regardless of whether or not you say anything, it’s still going to be there.”

I stood up from my seat and started to walk out of the kitchen. But I knew my walking away wouldn’t deter my sister. “Isabel, you know what, I don’t want to have this argument with you. I had a really crappy day. I’m tired and I don’t feel like playing this broken record.”

“Well Max, it doesn’t have to be an argument if you would just listen to me. You want me and the rest of the world to believe that the two you are dealing with this, butyou’re not. The sooner you realize that the better.”

I entered the living room and took a seat on the couch deciding to ignore my sister instead of rise to her bait. I was well aware of the rocky emotional rollercoaster my life had been for the past month. I didn’t need my sister pointing out my problems to me.

When Isabel continued to talk, I turned on the TV.

“Oh yeah, that’s real mature, Max. Just drown me out like you do the rest of the world and maybe I’ll go away.” I didn’t try to fight her when she reached over and grabbed the remote from my hand. She would say what she had to say, regardless.

“Max, I’m only trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help Isabel.” I needed her to leave well enough alone.

She sat down beside me on the couch but I continued to face forward towards the blank television.

“I saw what was going on between the two of you last night. God, you wouldn’t even think you two were at the same party, let alone married.”

“Thank you, for your unwanted observation. I’ll make sure that it’s noted and documented.”

Isabel ignored my sarcasm. “Max, please, just hear me out for one second. If you would just talk to someone about all this.”

“And say what, Isabel? That my marriage is falling apart? You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know that this is hard? That this isn’t tearing us apart? Do you?”

There. I’d said it out loud. After avoiding actually speaking the words for so long, I’d finally given voice to this action that had been taking place around me for the past months.

The words were like a rush of bile in my throat. They made me want to be sick.

“Max, you know I don’t think that.”

I turned around to face her.

“You must. Because every chance you get you throw it back in my face, reminding me to be sad, to be angry or to be fucking miserable. Well I am. I am miserable every damn day of my life. Everyday that I look at her or I go to that room. She can’t even go in that room, Isabel!”

I found myself laughing for some unexplainable reason. A silly little chuckle that was almost involuntary in the way it came from me.

“But you know what I do? I live my life. Because regardless of how hard this has been for me, or how hard this has been for her, we’re still living. We’re still here. And I can’t stop living because of this.”

I wasn’t sure if it was really Isabel that I was angry with or if it was myself or even my wife. But this sudden rush of anger was building inside of me and there was nothing I could do to keep it from coming out. My sister just happened to be a convenient target to aim for.

“Max, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”

No. I knew she wasn’t. She was trying to do everything she could to make things better for me. And I loved her for that. But this wasn’t something she could make nice and tidy in a neat little package. This wasn’t even something I knew how to fix myself.

We sat in silence. Her trying not to pressure me, all the while wanting to force me to do exactly as she said, and me not knowing what to say or do to fix this, yet condemning her for daring to try. Looking into my sister’s eyes, I saw someone who loved me and cared about me and just wanted me to be happy. And in that moment, all I wanted was to be happy too.

“I think she’s pregnant, Isabel.” The words came out before I could stop them. I wasn’t sure why I said them. No, that wasn’t true. I wanted to believe that saying the words would give me a sense of relief that would cause some of the sadness to fade. Instead, with them came a sense of panic so profound I could hardly stand it.

“Oh Max.” I wasn’t sure when my eyes had begun to blur but suddenly I was watching through a shroud of pitiful tears as Isabel gasped and placed her hands over her mouth. As if she made a sound she hadn’t meant to make. “Max, that’s…that’s wonderful.” I could hear the awkward confusion in her voice as she said the words.

I just shook my head. “No it’s not. It’s not wonderful. It’s not happy, it’s not anything that it should be, and you know why?”

I didn’t know if she truly had nothing more to say, or if the shock of my revelation had affected her ability to speak, but Isabel remained mute as she shook her head no.

“Because she’s hiding it from me. I’m her husband, she may be carrying my child and she’s hiding it from me.”

I am her husband.

She may be pregnant.

She is hiding it from me.

The words repeated in my head over and over. All day, I had tried not to think about the discovery I had made this morning. All day, I had forced myself to focus on my work. I’d spent the day continuously telling myself to do my job and not worry about my own problems. All day, I had placed my attention solely on my patients. Back to back. One after the other, shoving any thoughts of my own life aside, for the time being.

Isabel was right. If I didn’t think about it, maybe it would go away.

“Max, “ I heard my sister whisper. “It’s going to be-”

I turned to her sharply, cutting her off as she attempted to speak those words. Those words that were the last words I wanted to hear. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be ok. I don’t need to hear it’s going to be ok.”

I turned back around and found myself staring once again at the blank television screen.

“I need it to be ok. I need it to actually be ok. Because just saying it in my head over and over and over isn’t working. And I’m tired of saying it, and I’m tired of hearing it, and I’m tired of it just not being ok.”

A part of me felt as if I were losing it. And maybe I was. Maybe after feeling so helpless and miserable for so long, I was finally losing it.

“Max you need to calm down. This isn’t good for you. You know what I think? I think maybe you need to see someone. A therapist. The both of you, actually. Maybe if you were able to talk to someone and just get all of your feelings out there.”

That was funny. As far as I could tell, my feelings were as far out there as they could possibly get.

“Isabel, when I woke up this morning, I felt so good.” I remembered that feeling. It was a sense of happiness that I had been so grateful to be feeling after having gone without it for so long. I was miles away from that feeling now.

Isabel was frowning at me and I could tell my words had confused her. Of course they would. As far as she could see, I was currently living in matrimonial hell, with no way out. She didn’t know about the small steps we’d taken back to each other last night. The kisses we’d shared, the silent promises we’d made to each other.

“Last night I held her in my arms. We kissed. We touched. We didn’t make love. And that was ok. Last night I didn’t have to think or hurt or any of that crap. I just held her. And when I woke up I felt so good. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

Isabel also didn’t know about the fool I was for believe that things could change.

“When I woke up this morning, I still had that feeling. You know, that dancing on a moonbeam feeling? I went into the kitchen and made breakfast for the two of us. It was just some toast and orange juice, nothing special. But it felt so good to make. It felt so good to be doing something for her and to feel like when I was done she would enjoy it.”

Yeah, that had felt so good.

“And when I came back, she was in the bathroom and she was sick. And I know she was sick. I know it. I sat there on the bathroom floor with her while she was sick.”

I looked at my sister who was now looking at me with barely unshed tear. Tears of pity, no doubt.

“When I woke up this morning, I felt so good. And now…”

Now: I am her husband. She may be pregnant. She is hiding it from me.

Isabel didn’t say a word. Perhaps she was gathering her thoughts. Perhaps she had no thoughts. My sister always had thoughts and she was the last person to censor them. Even for my benefit. But for the first time that I could remember I wanted to hear what she had to say. Because I had run out of thoughts a long time ago.

“Max,” she started gently. “Did you ask her?”

I laughed at that. It was a humorless little sound that was more hollowed wretchedness than genuine mirth.

“Yes, Isabel, I asked her.”

She nodded her head as if she had already anticipated my answer. “And what did she say?”

What did she say? A simple question with a simple answer.

“She said no.” I turned around and looked back to the kitchen where the once delightful aroma had started to take on a charred aroma. “Your risotto’s scorching.”

She ignored me. “And you don’t believe she’s telling you the truth.” She seemed to be speaking more to herself than to me.

I stood up and walked back over to the kitchen area, my only thought being that it really would have been a shame for the risotto to burn.

I looked down into the pan at the mixture of broth chopped onion and rice. Wine. It could definitely use some wine. Isabel didn’t like to cook with wine. She always said the added flavor wasn’t worth the alcohol content.

The risotto could have used some wine.

“Max.” I felt the touch of a hand on my shoulder again and turned to see that Isabel was now standing behind me. I wasn’t even sure when she had left the living room.

“You know what would be nice? If you got away for a few days. Just took a break. Cleared your head. That would be nice wouldn’t it?”

She was now talking to me as if I were a child that needed placating. I sighed. My sister meant well, she always did, but sometimes she needed to learn the value of not meaning so well.

“Isabel you know what would be really nice?” I asked her.

“What?” I could hear the anticipation in her voice. Like she was just waiting for me to tell her exactly what she needed to do in order to help me fix me.

“If you left.” I said calmly.

For a moment, I thought she would argue, or make a fuss, or insist that she stay. But she didn’t do any of those things. She looked at me for a seemingly endless moment almost as if she was gauging me, but she didn’t say a word of protest.

“Fine. That’s fine, Max.” she walked over to the stove and switched it off. “This is way past done anyway.” Something told me she wasn’t talking about our dinner.

I watched in silence as she walked around the kitchen gathering a few odd things and throwing them inside of a paper bag. Her movements were harsh and choppy, making it more than clear that she was not in a good mood. Once she had gathered all of her things, and some things that may have been mine, she walked out the door without another word and slammed it closed behind her.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood in that spot at the kitchen counter after she left.

The risotto was burnt.

TBC

[RosDude]

Thanks for the Feedback everyone. Again, I'm late so I wont go on.

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~~SIX~~

I was sitting on the couch in the living room when she returned that night. The television was on, but I paid little attention to it. The room still smelt like burnt risotto and of the pizza rolls I had warmed as a replacement for the ruined dinner. They now sat, going cold in front of me. It didn’t matter. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

She paused in the doorway for a moment after entering. She was most likely confused by Isabel’s absence as well as by the scent of our ruined dinner cooling in the trashcan.

“Hi. Where’s Isabel?” she asked.

“Gone.” I answered simply.

“Oh,” a moment of silence. “I thought she was cooking dinner.”

“Was,” was all I said.

“Oh.” She said again.

I wondered how long it would take her to ask me what had happened. She didn’t. Instead she walked into the kitchen and took out a box of cereal. Not even curious, I mused as I rose from the couch.

I entered the room behind her. “Where were you?”

She didn’t even bother to look up at me as she poured the cereal into a bowl. “I forgot something. I had to run to the post office.”

“You came in empty handed.”

She did look up at that. “To drop something off,” she explained. She raised her brow to me, and looked as if she didn’t appreciate the hint of suspicion in my tone.

I was sick of this. “Don’t lie to me.” I stood directly in front of her. Her dark eyes narrowed at me, then she backed away a step so that her back was pressed against the refrigerator.

“Max, I was at the post office-”

“I’m not talking about the damn post office!” I yelled. A look of surprise crossed her face. I almost never yelled. I never saw the need to. But I needed to yell now. I needed to scream as loud as my lungs would allow. I needed to shout until I was blue in the face from lack of air.

“Stop lying to me.” But I didn’t yell again. I took another step forward and placed my hand meaningfully on her stomach. She looked down at my hand, then back to my eyes. I knew she caught my meaning. I didn’t have to say the words.

“Are you pregnant?” I said them anyway.

She looked at the floor and shook her head. “I can’t be.” Her voice was almost inaudible.

Moving my hand from her stomach, I laid both of them on the sides of her cheeks and lifted her face back to mine. There were tears in her eyes. They broke my heart.

“Tell me.” I commanded.

As I stood there looking into my wife’s tear stained face, it donned on me: I had no clue what I would do if she were pregnant. I didn’t know how I would feel. I didn’t know what I would think. But I had to know. One way or the other, I had to know.

Her eyes remained fixed on mine. We looked at each other for so long, I had begun to think time itself had stopped. There was nothing but our eyes locked on one another. I hung there waiting for her answer, waiting to hear the one little word that I knew had the power to change things between us.

“Yes.”

My world was silent. It was almost like she hadn’t said a thing at all. And at the same time, the silence seemed to echo over and over throughout the room. My wife was pregnant.

I closed my eyes. I let the word sink in. Those things I had only seconds before been worried about: What I would feel and think. They didn’t matter. I felt nothing. I thought nothing. But I did know.

I knew.

didn’t known when my feet had begun to move, but suddenly I was no longer standing in the kitchen.

“Max.” Her voice stumbled over my name as if it was the hardest word she’d ever had to speak in her life. I didn’t answer her. I just continued to walk aimlessly around our apartment.

She followed me.

“Max please.”

I turned around to face her. “You lied to me.” To me! Her husband! And about something so important.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just needed you not to know. I…” She was crying again. Somehow, this time her tears had little effect on me.

“You what?” I asked harshly.

“I can’t be pregnant.” She finished.

My head was killing me. My eyes felt as if they were about to bulge out of my skull. I felt like a caged beast that desperately needed to break out, or else it was going to explode.

“You said that before. What do you mean you can’t be pregnant? That doesn’t make any sense!” I was yelling again. It felt good. We were back in the living room. I watched her through a mask of red as she sat down heavily on the couch.

“I mean I can’t be pregnant,” was all she said.

And then I understood. It wasn’t what she was saying. It was the way she was saying it. Not that she couldn’t physically be pregnant, but that she didn’t want to be pregnant.

I looked over to my wife sitting on our sofa in our apartment and felt as if I were standing in the middle of a dream. No, a nightmare. I prayed I was in the middle of a nightmare. “You can’t be pregnant,” I repeated.

She looked to me, her face still painted with clear lines of tears, her hand placed ironically over her stomach.

Over our child.

“I didn’t want you to know.” Her eyes glistened as she spoke. Even in the midst of tears, her face was still so beautiful. “Doing this would be so much harder if you knew, and I…I didn’t want you to know.”

I turned away from her and walked back into the kitchen. I needed to be moving. I heard the subtle sounds of her movement and knew she had followed me, but I didn’t turn to her. I couldn’t turn to her.

“What would be so much harder?” I asked. My voice came out sounding calm, a total contradiction to what I was feeling inside. I didn’t wait for her to answer my question before I fired another one. “What were you going to do to my child?”

Absolute silence was my answer.

Slowly, I turned around to face her. “You were going to…?” I could hardly get my mouth to form words. “Without even telling me? God, you were going to have an abor-”

“Max!” she shouted my name and came to me, cutting me off before I could say it. I felt her arms wrap around me as she pressed herself tightly to me. I didn’t embrace her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered the words over and over. “I’m so sorry. So sorry…” she rained kisses all over me. She bent my head to place them on my lips. Placing them on both my cheeks. Unbuttoning my shirt to place them on my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“God.” My voice was horse. Still, I wasn’t crying. I didn’t try to stop her from kissing me. I even kissed her back when her lips touched mine. “How could you?”

She shook her head and buried her face against my chest. “I’m sorry,” was all she said.

So was I.

I lifted my arms from my sides and placed my hands on her shoulders in an attempt to push her away, but she refused to let me go.

“No, please,” She whispered, and continued to lay kiss after kiss on my chest.

“Please don’t. I’m sorry, Max.”

I tried for a moment to get a handle on my thoughts. We had fallen a long way. Farther down then I would have ever imagined we could have. Maybe even grown apart, but never, not ever had I imagined she could deliberately do something that would hurt me so much.

“I don’t understand.” My head was throbbing with confusion. “I’m your husband.”

I just stood there. Her kisses continued, seeming almost frantic. Kissing me over and over. I was frozen in my spot. Had I wanted to, my body would not have been able to move.

“I know,” she spoke against my chest.

“I’m your husband.” I repeated. Still, no tears.

She placed her fingers against my chin and brought my face down to hers. She was shaking her head, tears still streaming down her face. “Max, I never would-”

But I didn’t let her finish. My hands shot up to grip her shoulders. Too hard. I knew I was holding her too hard, but I couldn’t seem to find the will to ease my grip.

“An abor-abortion?” the word was thick on my tongue. “Is it really that bad?” Were we really that bad?

She looked down at the floor and I wondered if she was aware of the look of shame that was written all over her face. I wondered if she even really cared. I wondered why she was crying. Was she upset because she had hurt me? Or was she upset because I’d found out?

Then another thought occurred to me. Something I would have never even considered before last night at dinner when I had seen her with that guy. I didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. Not that she would ever do that to me. But I also never would have believed that she would ever think to have an abortion behind my back.

I looked her dead in the eyes. “Is it mine?”

Her head snapped back up to me, her eyes flashing to mine. There was a look of absolute horror on her face. At what, I wondered? The idea that I would ask her such a question, or the idea that she’d been caught?

I didn’t look away from her. I just waited for her answer. Felt sick to my stomach and waited.

“Yes,” she said after what seemed an eternity of our gazes locking. “Yes it’s…I wouldn’t…” her arms dropped lamely to her side. “How could you think that?”

I almost laughed. Almost. “How could I not?” How could I even trust that she was telling me the truth now?

I released my grip on her shoulders. I felt raw. Everything felt too raw. My emotions, my body, my heart. God, my heart felt like it was going to explode from my chest.

I sank down in the kitchen chair. “Why are you doing this to me?” And numb. I felt so numb.

“Max.”

“If it’s this hard to be with me. If it’s takes this much pain. Then let me go. Just…let me go.” Because I wasn’t strong enough to let her go.

She shook her head as she stepped closer to me. She touched my shoulders. One hand then the other then sat down on my lap. There was a sad smile on her face before she pressed her lips to mine.

“I can’t,” she said, and kissed me again. Then, as if she had read my own mind, “Because I’m not strong enough either.”

And so, we were both stuck.

She kissed me over and over. And I let her. Allowing her to kiss me. Allowing her to remove my shirt. Allowing her to remove my pants. Because I wasn’t strong enough to stop her.

My heart hurt.

I watched her remove her own clothing. Her movements were quick and uneven. It was like she feared if she were away from me for too long I would leave.

She didn’t know, I wasn’t strong enough to go.

“Max?” she sat back down on my lap her body warm and fitting perfectly against mine. She reached up to touch my face. I looked at her. She kissed me some more. I let her.

God, my heart hurt so bad.

And then I felt her lips against my ear as she whispered, “Max, I want to make love to you.” It wasn’t seductive. It wasn’t a form of temptation. No, none of those things. Just a low whisper of truth inside my ear.

I looked at her as if she were speaking another language. My brain couldn’t fathom her words. I sat there, with her naked body straddling mine, and her face streaked with tears. Finally, I felt something else other than the terrible pain in my chest.

It was arousal. Plain and simple passionless arousal. Carnal, unexplainable, yet an undeniable desire to have sex for no reason, save for the simple act of having it. She pressed closer to me, and I felt her rise against me as she began to place another kiss on my lips. This time, I did stop her.

“Well, that’s too bad.” She gasped in shock, but didn’t fail to wrap her legs around my waist as I stood up from my chair. “Because I want to fuck you.” And then…

I took her like a mad man.

My mind was barely able to register the sound of breaking glass as I forced her down on the table, the bowl of cereal off the table, and my body inside of hers.

She made a low sound in the back of her throat somewhere between a groan of pleasure and a wince of pain, as I shoved my cock inside of her. My mouth smothered most of the sound as it crushed into her open gasp. My tongue immediately went in search for hers. I was a man dying of thirst and her mouth was the only source of liquid for miles around. I knew the taste of her was the only thing that would quench this perpetual craving inside of me.

My entire body ached with hollow lust. I thrust inside of her deep and hard. It was a magnificent combination of unadulterated sexual gratification and physical pain. The strain of my muscles as I worked my body inside of hers. The clenching of her inner walls as she milked me with every thrust. The tightening of my scrotum as my cock elongated inside of her wet body. The pure pleasure of our sex. It was enough to drive me out of my mind.

Fucking her.

I was fucking my wife against our kitchen table like she was some cheap whore in a dank alleyway, and I, some nameless John in desperate search of the desire to get off. And I didn’t care. I just didn’t care.

Again she made a sound that may have been my name. It may have been a groan, or it may not have come from her at all. Still, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All that seemed to matter to me was assuaging the bone deep ach in my body to come inside of her. I found myself pressing harder, faster more powerfully into her. I was driving deeper than I ever had, yet God, oh God it wasn’t enough!

I pressed my face to the side of hers. My chin knocked roughly against her soft cheek as my lips scrapped across her ear. I nipped at the shell with my teeth, all the while maintaining an impossible footing as I humped her against the table again and again. It just wasn’t enough.

I could feel my own breath against my cheeks as I panted against her skin. Her nails bit into my back and her feet planted firmly against my ass. Her lower body moved quickly in an effort to keep up with my thrusts. I wanted to feel her come. I wanted it so badly I would have given anything to have it.

I pressed my mouth to her cheek, biting down on the soft skin then soothing the hurt with my tongue. “I want you to…ahh.” I gasped when I felt the sudden sting of her teeth against my shoulder. But my desire was great and I needed her to hear my words. “I want you to come.” I continued thrusting so hard on the last word that for a moment, I couldn’t distinguish where my body ended and hers began.

We stayed like that. Me pressed as close to her as I could physically get, not moving, barely breathing, just allowing her body to flex around mine as I whispered my commands in her ear. “Come on me right now.”

She turned her head towards me so that our lips were mere breaths away. She opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but I prevented her by pressing my lips forcefully against hers again. I didn’t want her to speak. I just wanted her to do exactly as I said.

“Shh.” I whispered as our lips separated. “Come.” I wanted it, I demanded it.

And she did.

She pushed down hard on me, her breathing harsher than I had ever heard it before. But I still wanted more. I waited for that one moment when her eyes went hazy with arousal and her face flushed red with passion. The moment right after climax. I waited, pushing against her just a little. Not hard enough to be counted as a thrust, but strong enough for her to feel the pressure inside of her.

Then I pulled out of her.

She gasped, the sound a moan, a sigh and a cry all wrapped into one. But I didn’t give her time to make any other sound before I replaced my cock with a finger. She panted and squirmed around me. She was stretching like a kitten in the sun, and moaning like feral wanton.

God, this was not right. Everything inside of me was screaming that this was not right. But my body didn’t care, and my heart didn’t matter.

“Max,” her voice broke my thoughts, sounding close to delirious. “Oh god, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she said to me.

And I didn’t. Not for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were on the floor. She was staring down at me when I opened my eyes. Her hair was strewn across her head wildly. Her eyes were sad.

“Hi.”

I turned my head away from her, my gaze locking on the bottom of our refrigerator.

“We have to talk,” she said. “Max.”

I sat up slowly, due to an inability to make any quick movements, and got to a sitting position with my back pressed against the refrigerator. “Talk.” I said. My voice was stoic to my own ears.

“I love you,” she said dolefully.

Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours ago, hearing those three little words spill from her lips, even in that sorrowful tone, still would have caused my heart to explode with joy. Only twenty-four little hours ago. Now, I felt close to nothing.

I sighed and pressed my head against the door. “I know,” was all I could say.

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

“Stuck.” I answered bitterly.

I watched her head nod slowly in agreement. “How did we get here?”

I couldn’t believe she had to ask. “Does it really matter?”

“It’s because of me.”

No, it wasn’t. Not wholly. But I didn’t dispute her. “Why can’t you just talk to me?”

“I want to, but…it hurts too much.”

Finally, I looked at her. “This hurts more.”

She crawled across the kitchen floor, over to me. She seemed almost hesitant for a moment, but eventually, she laid her head against my shoulder. “I love you, Max,” she repeated.

After a while, I lifted my arm and hugged her to me. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.” She said to me for what seemed the hundredth time.

Again I whispered, “I know.”

I felt her head shake against my shoulder. “Not just about…” she let her words trail off. “But about everything.”

And once again, “I know.”

I felt her move around as she snuggled closer to me. Her body pressed along the side of mine and she laid her hands awkwardly in her lap as if she were unsure of what to do with them. “I’m…I’m scared.” Her voice was very low as she spoke.

I looked down at her.

“Please, don’t stop loving me.”

There was silence as she waited for my reply.

Defeated, I answered her truthfully. “I wish I could, but I don’t think I know how to.”

She looked at me. “How to keep loving me?” she asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “How to stop.”

Yes, we were beyond a doubt, truly deeply...

stuck.

TBC

[RosDude]

Yeah, I know, today is so not Thursday. But it took me longer to get this chapter ready than I thought it would. And I’ve been really busy with getting ready to go back to school (I’m going back to school by the way) and working, and my stupid leg, which is a lot better now but still not 100%. I’m sorry for that. But I’ve made you wait all this time for this chapter so I’m not going to make you wait until another Thursday to get it.

Next chapter will be next Thursday, not this coming one. Again, sorry about that.

Behrsgirl77: Thank you. Sit tight because the ride is going to be bumpy
Dreamsatnight: Thank you. I’m very flattered that so many people are enjoying this so much as it is not completely written in my usual style. While I prefer to write in first person, this is way more passionate than anything I’ve ever written and it’s nice to see that my attempt to get inside of my character is coming off well with the readers. SO thanks.
Gaby7tvm : The last chapter was a little hard to follow and did merit several rewrites so I can understand your being confused and I’m sorry about that. Basically, Max is torn by his emotions because he is devastated that his wife would try think of having an abortion without telling him, but he is still madly desperately, perhaps even sickeningly in love with her.
Daydreamer23: I can finally say that all will be reveled soon!
Emz80m: Thank you.
Guelbebek: Thank you. I’m glad you loved the part. And you have it right for the most part. Max does wish he could stop loving his wife for the sake that if he didn’t love her so much he would not be so upset by all the things that are going on between them, but he is not actively seeking a way to fall out of love with her.
CandyDreamQueen: Make sure you take a pepcid before you read this next one. lol
begonia9508: Yes, Max and his wife have some serious communication issues that they need to overcome before this is all over.
Cocogurl: Soon! Soon! At last, all will be revealed sooooooooonnnnnnn!
confusedfool: When you all say it was ‘intense’ you mean in a good way right? lol
Mrs.Dude: Babe, you read my chapter! And left feedback! That is so awesome if not 100% biased of you. Thank you. Love you.
Evelynn: Your mind is PG? Did not know that. But thanks for reading anyway. Even if it’s not exactly the story of mind that you want to be reading.
cassie: Yes, this story is false advertising at its finest. Thanks for reading and for the complement on my writing.
Alien_Friend: Thank you thank you thank you. Ego + 3 (For those wondering, I am currently a level 9 egotist. my current ego is at 920 and I have 80 more points to go before I reach
level 10 narcist.)
Nz_Roswell: Speechlessness is as good as a response as any.
Michelle in Yonkers: My batteries are recharged and I’m ready to roll…write…whatever.
ruthandnina: Thank you very much, and welcome to my Happy world.

Thank you all very much for the feedback.

Remember, italics means we’re strolling down memory lane.

And now we return to our regularly schedule programming, already in progress:

~~SEVEN~~

I like the patients’ wing of the hospital at night. The halls are mostly quiet. There is never the hubbub that seems to surround the hospital in the morning. The patients relax in their rooms with their families, while the nurses work diligently at the nurse’s stations, and sometimes wave politely at doctors and orderlies as they pass. Then, at nine o’clock, when visiting hours are over, the families struggle to say goodbye and goodnight to their loved ones, with promises of returning first thing in the morning.

It was 9:01pm when I walked into Paula’s room that night. I wasn’t wearing my coat or any of my other equipment. No chart or stethoscope. Simply the clothes on my back. Paula was still awake, sitting up in bed with her eyes fastened on a book beneath her reading glasses. She didn’t put her book down at my entrance, nor did she look to be surprised by it. She just continued to read silently.

I didn’t wait for Paula to acknowledge me. Instead, I sat down beside her in the bedside chair. Then, reaching a hand up, I tilted her book until the front was facing me. I smiled at the sight of the familiar yellow cover.

“Vocabulary for Dummies?” I asked her with an arch of my brow.

Paula never took her eyes off her book. “Well kid, there’s an interesting section on decoding doctor lingo. I figured if I was going to be around you quacks for a good percentage of my time I might try to figure out some of the jargon you keep spitting.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh-huh,” Paula allowed me to take the book from her and give it a quick once over. “And where exactly did you get this?”

“Gift shop. I saw it on my way up, but I ignored it at the time. Had that ditsy bitsy in the scrubs run down and get it for me.” Paula answered without an ounce of shame.

I assumed the ‘ditsy bitsy’ she was referring to was Carmen Hutchens. Carmen was the nurse that had been on call on Paula’s floor this morning. I’d talked to her on my way up, and she’d told me, in great detail, what a ‘handful’ Paula had been today. Her exact words actually being along the lines of: “This woman should come with a warning label that reads ‘take only in small doses’.”

But I was no stranger to Paula’s particular attitude, so the fact that she hadn’t exactly gotten along with her nurse was no true surprise to me. “Well,” I started, as I handed Paula her book back. “That was awfully sporting of Carmen, considering all the trouble you’ve given her today.”

“Trouble?” Paula looked at me innocently. “What trouble?”

“Carmen told me you threw a fruit-cocktail at her this afternoon.”

Paula’s eyes lifted like she was trying to remember something. “Little curly red-head number?” she asked.

I nodded, indicating that was Carmen.

“Well you’re darn right I threw my cocktail at the little ditz. Can you believe the thing had the nerve to come in here and ask me if I wanted a sponge bath? A sponge bath!”

Being the independent woman Paula prided herself on being, there was no question that the notion of having someone else do something as personal as bathe her would not sit well with her.

“Like the bathroom isn’t less than five feet away! Like I ain't got eyes to see or a brain in my head to know what it’s for.”

“She was just doing her job, Paula.” I tried to be rational with Paula, but I knew when she was upset about something she wasn’t likely to drop it.

“Oh, and is this an Old Folks home? Do I look like an invalid to you?” Paula’s arms flailed wildly as she spoke. I didn’t think it wise to inform her that a large percentage of patients in this hospital, and on this floor in particular, were invalids.

“A sponge bath,” she repeated with venomous. “The least the little girl could do was run down and grab a book for me. She ought to be glad I didn’t chuck this at her too.”

“Paula-”

“Oh, I’m done talking about it. Obviously she’s fine if she had the strength to come running tattling to you, so let’s just drop it.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But no fruit-cocktail for you tomorrow.”

Paula looked as if she couldn’t care less. “So what are you doing here? Didn’t think I’d see you again until at least tomorrow.” She looked up at the clock mounted on the wall at the foot of her bed and added. “You know visiting hours were over at nine.”

I knew Paula was referring to the promise I had made her to come see her this morning. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten a chance to do that. I shrugged. “I promised I would come to see you.” then gave her a devious smile. “Besides, I’ve got some pull with one of the doctors, so I’m sure they won't kick me out of here just yet.”

Paula didn’t laugh but I saw the sides of her lips turn up in an almost smile. “Well I suppose since you went through all the trouble,” she picked her book up and placed it inside the bedside drawer. “I have no choice but to be civil.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Never on my accord, Paula.”

She shook a finger at me. “Ahh, you, I almost forgot what a wise mouth you are. For a moment you were almost starting to sound like a real doctor.” She jabbed.

I gave her my doctor friendly smile. “I’d never want to disappoint you, Paula.”

She smiled back. “Whatever, kid.”

I smiled and clasped my hands together. “So, doctor time. How was your day?” I asked, changing the tone of our conversation to a more professional one.

“Day was fine I guess. But last night! I swear. Five times! Do you believe that? That’s how many times my sleep was interrupted last night by some nurse or some doctor or some freaking whack job that refused to let me get some sleep. Five times!”

I smiled at Paula as she ranted on about the dismal night she had spent in the hospital. It was good to see Paula in her usual fashion, unhappy yet unchanged by her current situation.

“I’m sorry to hear you had such a rough night, Paula,” I said, giving her a placating smile.

“You’re sorry? You’re not the one that had to spend the night in this pristine hellhole.”

I winced. Paula was always expressive, but never so harsh. “Other than a restless night, is there anything else wrong, Paula?”

“You want a list, kid? Let’s start it with I may have cancer.” She said.

Yes, I was well aware of that. “Paula, I’ve already told you we’re going to do everything we can to-”

“I’ve got ears, kid. I know what you said,” she cut off.

I didn’t see any sense in arguing with her. “So I assume you met Dr. Thatcher today?” I asked opting for a change in subject.

“Short fat guy, older, with a Chris Cringle bush growing over his face?” she lifted a brow.

“Well, that would be one way of describing him.”

“Yeah, he was in here with a team of gawk watchers this afternoon and at about six-ish this morning.” She added, “Right about the same time I was just getting deep into REM.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Not as sorry as I was.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Same thing as all the other doctors I saw last night. Asked me a bunch a questions I already gave the answers to. Told me he’d be doing a biopsy and observations today followed by bull crap tomorrow,” she answered.

“Good, so you had your biopsy today.” I said musing more to myself than to her.

“Good isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe it,” she grumbled.

I folded my arms over my chest and gave her the most chastising look I could muster. “Paula, I really wish you would take this more seriously.”

“And I wish there wasn’t anything to take. I’m old, kid. Leave me alone.”

“Did Dr. Thatcher say anything about doing a CT or an MRI on you?” I asked.

“A what?”

“Take some pictures of your chest,” I explained simply. “Just to see if there may be any spreading in that area? Dr. Thatcher didn’t say anything about it?”

“Thatch may have said the moon was made of cheese for all I know. Need I remind you I was half asleep when he and his goons bombarded in here.”

“Ok, I’ll look into that.” I said.

“Un-huh, and besides that what else are you going to be doing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your job in all this? You gonna be probing and prodding me too?”

I tried to find a simple answer for her question. Paula was never a friendly woman, but the two of us had developed a relationship of sorts, whatever it may have been. I knew it was never easy for patients to deal with new doctors. I was a familiar face, and sometimes that was even more important than the leading specialist. “Well Paula, Dr. Thatcher is the oncologist, so he will most likely be the one to oversee all of your treatments, but he’ll be consulting with me though the thick of it, and you’ll continue to see me regularly when all this is done.” Assuming that Paula would get through this with no complications.

“Hmm, so now instead of dealing with a young fool, I’m stuck with an old boob too.”

I laughed, even at the insult. “I’m-”

“-afraid so Paula.” She finished. “I know.”

“Go easy on Dr. Thatcher, Paula. He’s a good man.”

“I’ll think about it, kid. But I won’t promise I’ll go as easy on him as I do on you. “ Paula said as she reclined back against her pillow.

I shook my head. Not as easy as she was on me, huh? Dr. Thatcher sure was in for it.

“So what are you really doing here, kid? If I were you I would have hightailed it out of here hours ago.”

I gave Paula a smile, and picked my words carefully. “Home’s not somewhere I’m interested in being right now.”

“Well, it seems like we have opposite problems.” She said.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, right now it seems Home doesn’t seem interested in being with me.” For the first time, Paula sounded sad, and she looked almost hurt as she spoke.

“Paula?” I didn’t know what else to say.

She smiled at me and her disposition seemed to brighten a little. “Go home, kid. Trust me. It’s the only place in the world you should ever want to be.”

I sighed inwardly. If Paula only knew.

Placing my hand on her knee, I gave her a reassuring smile. “I will,” I promised. “In a little while.”

She nodded at me, and even though she had made the suggestion, I could tell she was happy to have my company for a little while longer. “Ok, in a little while.” She repeated.

It was a long while before I left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Forty-five hundredth block of New Castle was nice neighborhood. A suburban area with a small community park on one corner, and a family owned general store on the other. New Castle Junior High and Elementary were two blocks down the main street. New Castle High was four blocks from that. Roswell Central Hospital, the hospital I worked at, was a ten-minute drive away.

Forty-five twenty-three New Castle Avenue was a nice house. Like most of the houses in New Castle, it was old, but well built and in good shape. It was a two-story home enclosed by a white picket fence. It had a porch swing, (Because who didn’t love a porch swing?) and a large tree growing in its front yard.

Forty-five twenty-three New Castle Avenue was my home. Not only that, it was a dream home. Unfortunately, it was a dream home that had never gotten the chance to be lived in. And its dreamers had long since woken up.

I hadn’t thought about this place in a long time. Hadn’t been here in even longer. But tonight I couldn’t help but think about it.

Once upon a time I had looked forward to calling this place home. My home. Our home. Once upon a time seemed a long time ago. Regardless, it was still the one place I avoided coming to as much as I possibly could.

Not tonight though. Tonight the house called to me like a siren on the high seas. Maybe it was my talk of home with Paula, maybe it was something else all together, but upon leaving the hospital, I knew this was the one place I wanted to be.

The lights were all off. Everything was quiet. The rooms were still. The house was asleep. When I entered the house and flipped on the light switch I was immediately hit by a powerful sense of nostalgia. Everything was exactly as we had left it.

In complete disarray.

Ladders in the foyer. Cans of paint in every corner of the room. Half painted walls and ceilings. Yes, it was just like I remembered it.

But I ignored the mess as I walked through the house. I knew my destination. It was the only room that wasn’t a total mess. It was the one room we had taken care to make sure was completely finished. And the only room we would never need.

I navigated the maze of mayhem and eventually made my way to the second floor. Down the hall, second door on the right. I stopped.

I stood unmoving in front of the door, not afraid to go in, but still unable to make myself move. I lifted my hand and touched the doorknob, but still I didn’t turn it.

In the beginning it had been hard. Coming here to this house, to this room. Thinking about all the things that would never be. But over time it had gotten easier for me. I would come here often just to think. To remember. And I would feel happy. But it had never stopped being hard for her. Over time, as my wife had begun to pull away, any mention of this room, or even this house, had caused her to distance herself even farther.

It was because of this that I’d stopped coming here. I stopped thinking about this place. And somewhere along the way I’d managed to fool myself into believing that maybe if I kept away from this place, if I didn’t let it touch either of us, maybe it would get easier for her.

It hadn’t. Not even a little bit. I saw that now. And staying away had only made things worse for the both of us. That was something else I could see.

Slowly, I turned the knob.

The door didn’t crack or wheeze as it opened. The hinges didn’t squeak. Time didn’t stop. Mankind didn’t cease to exist. The door just opened.

I smiled when I entered the room. It felt like coming home after a long bad vacation. Peaceful. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Yes, this was what home felt like.

Walking farther into the room, I stopped and ran my hand along things as I passed. They were familiar things, personal things. Things that I had picked out and placed here myself. Things that I had not seen in a long time.

Peaceful.

I walked some more until I came to stand in front of a little white rocking chair. I touched the thing, and smiled at the feeling of the polished wood under my fingertips. Without warning, the memories came flooding back.

“Max, could you come down here for a second? I need you to move this stupid ladder. Someone is going to break their neck trying to get around this thing,”

I stopped the movement of my paintbrush in mid stroke at the sound of my wife calling up to me. I had been working at the house all morning, as well as a good part of the afternoon. Today we had plans to start painting the upstairs bedrooms and Michael, Alex and Kyle were supposed to be helping me. However, their version of help seemed to consist more of goofing off and screwing around than of doing any actual painting.

Finally, I told them if they weren’t going to do any painting then they might as well go home. They’d taken great offense at that and professed that they were going to help. I wasn’t sure what they were up to now, but whatever it was, it definitely didn’t consist of ‘helping me paint’.

After such a hectic morning and afternoon, I was relieved to hear her voice.

Laying my paintbrush down and wiping my hands off on my faded jeans, I climbed down the ladder I had been standing on and headed towards her voice. From the top of the stairs, I saw her standing in the foyer trying to squeeze past a box of blinds that had been left to lean against the archway.

“Hey babe.” I came down the stairs quickly in order to reach her, and lifted the blinds so she could get through more easily. “What are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” I softened my words by placing a welcoming kiss on her forehead.

She looked less than worried as she draped her arms over my shoulders and gave me a small peck on the lips. I knew by now she was used to my over protectiveness. “Hun please, there isn’t even any paint down here.” Then she gave me that flirtatious little smile that I loved to see.. “ Besides, how could I resist coming here? You know how much I love you in those jeans.”

“That,” I leaned down and placed kiss on her nose. “is hardly,” another kiss on her check. “worth,” then the other cheek. “the risk,” and finished on her lips.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to stay long.” She looked searchingly over my shoulder. “Where are the misfits?”

“Who knows? Last I saw, they were kicking a ball around in the one of the empty rooms upstairs.” I almost laughed when her jaw dropped in appall, but I knew better than to do so. She loved this house and she wouldn’t hesitate to kill those guys if they so much as looked at a window too hard, let alone broke one.

“Relax, I had them take it outside. They should be out back.” I said reassuringly.

She relaxed sufficiently. “Well that’s good, but aren’t they supposed to be helping you?”

I shrugged. “Supposed to be, but you know those guys. Combined they’ve got the attention span of a five year old and the work ethic of a loafer.”

“Well, I don’t like you doing all this work by yourself.” She frowned up at me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll haul them in in a little while.”

Seemingly pleased by that, her frown disappeared.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked. “And it better not be just to ogle my butt.”

“Well, as tempting as ogling your derriere is, I actually did come here for another reason.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased skeptically. “Baby, come on. I know how irresistible I am. You can admit to just wanting to see the show.”

She laughed and gave my arm a light punch. “Yes, well somehow, some-magical-how, I managed to stop thinking about your ass for one second. I know, it’s almost unbelievable but it’s true.”

“Is it now?” I asked.

“Yes it is,” she answered.

“And what did you think of?” I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifting her up against my chest. “Was it my lips?” I placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head and giving the word a little ‘pop’.

“Hmm.” I looked thoughtful for a second. “How about my ears?” I delighted in the little shiver she gave as I ran my tongue along the shell of her ear.

“No,” she breathed in a low voice.

“Not there, either?” I asked shaking my head at her. She shook her head in response. I could tell she was becoming flustered by my game.

“Oh,” I started to walk until I had her sandwiched between the wall and me. “I know what you were thinking of.” I leaned into her, making sure our bodies were perfectly aliened and she could feel my arousal press right against her-

“Max!” she gasped, moaned, and laughed at the same time. Then she started to squirm in my arms. “Stop it. You said the guys are right outside. They could be right behind the door.”

I smiled devilishly at her, but allowed her to slide back to her feet. “Yes, but you know what the wonderful things about doors is? They can be locked.”

She appeared less than enthusiastic by the idea. “Down boy.”

I laughed. “Had to give it a shot.”

She rolled her eyes skyward as I placed her on her feet. “So, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“If I tell you what it is it defeats the purpose of me showing you.” She reached over and grabbed my hand yanking me towards the front door. “Come on. Oh, and you’re really going to have to move that ladder.”

My interest captured, I allowed her to drag me outside to see whatever it was that she had to show me.

“Ok, close your eye, and wait right here.” She said once we were outside on the front porch. I closed my eyes and folded my arms across my chest.

I heard the sound of her walking, followed by the sound of sliding van door opening. Then a few clanks and bangs later I heard her step back on to the porch.

“What exactly is this thing you have to show me?” I asked. Whatever it was sounded heavy and she definitely should not have been doing any heavy lifting.

“You’ll see in a second.” This was followed by another loud thump and the sound of something dragging across the porch.

“Babe?” I asked.

“Ok, you can open them.” A little excited, and a little frightened I opened my eyes slowly.

Sitting on our front porch between my wife and myself was the ugliest chair I had ever seen in my life.

It was a rocking chair. Old. Very old. Maybe even ancient. The end of one of the rocking legs seemed to be shorter than the other, so rather than remaining balanced, it was slightly tilted to the front. The wood was an unsightly unpolished brown with small cracks of chipped wood in some areas. There was a considerable amount of water damage on the seat and legs of the chair, and one of the rails on the back was missing.

It was rough and in desperate need of sanding. Even the general design of it was unflattering. The arms were too high, the seat too low, and the back too wide. Everything about the chair was a disaster. But my wife stood before me with her arm draped around it as if it were the most precious item she had ever owned. I had no clue what to say.

So I laughed.

A part of me was aware that it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I couldn’t help it. The situation just seemed so hilarious to me. The proud look on her face clashing with the sad state of the chair was almost sidesplitting.

However, she did not find it all that funny.

“What?” she sounded greatly offended. “What’s so funny?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the question or just her general state of confusion, but her words only made me laugh harder.

She punched my shoulder. “Stop it!”

I tried, but the laughter wouldn’t go away. I started to say I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get the words out as I immediately started laughing again.

“Max!” this time I could hear the strong sense of annoyance in her voice. “It’s not funny.”

I nodded my head as I tried to compose myself. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s not funny.” But when I looked back at the sad little rocking chair it seemed to almost wheeze in pain as one of the other rails fell off the back.

I died.

“Max!” she screamed at me again as my fit continued. But this time her voice sounded hurt and I knew if I didn’t stop the waterworks were going to start.

“Ok, I’m sorry baby.” I said taking hold of her shoulders. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?” I asked.

She was pouting and her eyes were turning watery. “I want you to like it.” She said.

“I want to like it too.” I ran my hand across her hair in a comforting motion.

“But you don’t, do you?” she asked.

I knew better than to answer that. “Baby, if you like it then that’s all that matters.”

“Oh my god, you hate it don’t you?”

“No, no no.” I soothed. “I don’t hate it.” When I looked back at the ugly chair I had to force myself not to start laughing again. “You like it?” I had to ask. I couldn’t possibly see how.

Her mouth dropped open. “You do hate it!” she snatched herself away from me and started to storm back toward the van.

I knew she was upset, so I tried to keep myself from laughing anymore as I chased after her.

“No, baby, no I don’t hate it.” But before I could get her to further hear me out, she turned around to face me quick as lightning, her mood gone from near tears to anger.

“I try to do something nice and what do you do? You laugh at me!”

“No I wasn’t laughing at-” but she didn’t give me the chance to finish.

“Then what were you laughing at?”

If there was a right answer to that question I didn’t know what it was, but I was pretty sure there was nothing I could say to make the situation any worse.

I looked back at the sad chair as if it would somehow come up with an answer for me, but it just leaned crookedly forward with its two missing rungs giving it a sort of toothless grin, almost seeming to say “sorry pal, you’re on your own.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” I started again. “I was laughing at the situation.” I knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words were even out of my mouth.

The opened mouthed gape she gave me confirmed it. Apparently, there had been something I could say to make the situation worse.

“I can not believe you!” she shouted and turned back towards the van.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” I tried to apologize, but she ignored my words with a wave of her hand as she stomped around the van to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going?” I leaned in on the passenger’s side and placed my hand on the wheel in some sorry attempt to stop her from pulling off.

She jerked the keys in the ignition and turned is sharply, revving the car. Then she batted at my hand until I was forced to let the wheel go. “Oh, I am getting as far away from you as I can before I no longer can contain the urge to slap you.”

“Baby-”

“Do not, ‘baby’ me, Max Evans or I swear I will drive this thing right up onto the sidewalk.”

O…K. Maybe it was time for a new tactic.

“Obviously, you’re upset. I know with your hormones being all-”

I stepped back suddenly as she pressed her foot down on the gas giving the van a sharp jolt. Her eyes were piercing as she looked at me. “You wanna try that again?”

I had never seen her look so coldly. In that moment I actually did believe she would have no problem driving the van up on the sidewalk and right at me. All this over a stupid chair? But I knew not to say that.

She lifted her brow in question, daring me to say another word. This time I kept my mouth shut.

“Good,” was her terse response.

The two of us were frozen there for a second. I didn’t dare move or say anything else, but she was no longer making an attempt to drive off. I opted to try and make piece. I approached the door slowly, putting my hands out in front of me in a pose of surrender. “Can I get in?”

She had turned back to face front so she was no longer looking at me and I could not read the expression on her face to see if she was still angry, but she nodded her head and I heard the small click as she unlocked the door.

Slowly, I slid into the van.

Again, we both said nothing. Me, because I was worried about saying the wrong thing. Her, well I was no longer sure why she had stopped yelling at me.

Then, she turned around and looked at me. I was surprise to see that there were tears in her eyes again.

“You hate my chair.” The words came out sounding like an accusation.

I shook my head. “No I don’t.” I tried to reassure her. But either she didn’t believe me, or she just ignored me.

“I made that chair.” Her voice broke at the admission and the tears really started to fall.

And now I understood. The chair wasn’t special to her because of some uniquely surprising lack of taste. It was special because no matter how ramshackle it was, it was something she had created with her own two hands. Something she was proud of. And I, her insensitive jerk of a husband, had just laughed at it, and however indirectly, at her.

“Oh baby,” I lifted my arms and wrapped them around her, hugging her to me. “I’m sorry.” I said, and placed a kiss on the top of her head where she leaned into me. “I don’t hate your chair. It’s a beautiful chair.”

But she was still crying.

“It took me…three weeks…(sniff)…and a day…(hiccup)…and forty-five minutes…to make…that thing.”

If I hadn’t felt the size of a tick before, that had surly clenched it.

“I’m sor-”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” she yelled, her sorrow turning to anger yet again.

“Ok, ok I’m sor…” I stopped as I caught myself. “I don’t hate the chair.” When had she even gotten the chance to make the thing? And how could she have done such a horrid job on it.

“It was my high-school tech lab final project.” She said seeming to have read my mind. “It was…the proudest…C…I’ve ever…gotten.” She finished with a loud sniff.

“I know it’s less than perfect, and yeah all those years spent in my dad’s basement may not have done it any good, but it’s still…my…chair.”

Her dad’s basement? Well that would explain a majority of the damage.

“No, you’re right. It’s not that bad. All it needs is a little paint.” A lot of paint. “And some sanding.” With the Sahara maybe. “And it will be as good as new.”

She wiped her eyes off on her sleeve and looked up at me. Her eyes were round and seemed even larger than normal from her bout of crying. I couldn’t help but find her adorable. “You really think so?” she asked me, sounding as if she didn’t believe me.

I smiled and nodded and gave her quick peck on the cheek. “I know so.”

That seemed to make her feel better, and she beamed at me before leaning over and embracing me in a big hug. From the corner of my eyes I could still see the chair sitting on the porch of our house, silently begging to be put out of its misery. Inwardly, I sighed.

I was going to need a lot more paint.

I came out of my memory with a happy smile.

Painting the chair hadn’t been the hard part. The sanding and polishing, that had been what had almost taken it out of me. After about a day spent working on it I had managed to get the chair to a presentable state. I wouldn’t have gone so far as to say it had become any less ugly. But the wood looked good, the legs were even, and the missing rails had been replaced. Followed up with a coat of fresh white paint, the chair was as good as new.

I looked down at it now. Our little ugly rocking chair. It may not have been a Bob Vila Original, but it had been meant to serve one of the most important purposes of our lives. It was supposed to be a place where memories were created, where nourishment was given, and where happiness took place.

I took a seat in the chair and leaned back, rocking slowly. The chair groaned a little from under usage, but otherwise felt sturdy beneath me. I rocked back and forth a few times and let my eyes dart across the clean white walls of the room, silently counting the little yellow duckies as they swam after each other along the upper edges of the walls.

I reached over to the little table that sat beside the rocking chair. On the table was a small picture, cased in a silly frame decorated with even more little yellow ducks. I smiled at the picture in my hands. The picture I had not looked at in such a long time.

I ran my hand lightly along the image. For a moment I could clearly remember the slight movement I had once felt beneath my palm when I had stroked my hand along my wife’s stomach in this same way.

When I had touched our child.

I continued to run my hand along the picture frame, tracing the slightly indistinguishable image of our ultrasound. “Hey little girl. I’ve missed you.” I spoke the words softly and didn’t feel at all ridicules for talking to a picture. No, what I felt most of all was joy, along with the undeniable desire to smile. It felt good. Just sitting here holding my daughter felt really good.

Paula was right, there was no place like home.

TBC

[RosDude]

So I’m going to stop B.S-ing around and just start calling it Happy (Insert Day here) because it’s becoming a real crapshoot as to when I can update. I have no one to blame but myself for this, but eh, I’ll blame everyone else instead. I blame my school, and my doctor, and my sisters, and my dogs, and my wife, and…um the sun for shinning (even though it’s doing a real carp-tac-ular job of that right now) and the birds for singing, and these damn construction people that are working on the house next to mine…oh and you guys. That’s right, I blame you too. So there. It’s everyone’s fault but mine.

So here we go:

Dream Weaver
Alien_Friend
Cocogurl
Daydreamer23
Emz80m
guelbebek
ruthandnina
carolina_moon
Nz_Roswell
Michelle in Yonkers

Thanks a lot for all the feedback.

And in case you’re wondering, yes I did change my banner. But there is a reason for that and you’ll see why in a few weeks.

~~EIGHT~~

I felt better when I got back to our apartment that night. Not good, just better. It felt like this extremely heavy weight that had been previously pressing down on my shoulders, had shrunken down to the point where I could still feet the pressure of it, but it was no longer so hard to move, to breath, to function.

Yeah, not good, just better.

I looked down at my watch after I closed the door behind me. 11:50pm. Almost midnight. My profession had kept me late at the hospital on numerous occasions, but I had never once failed to call home when those situations had occurred. I hadn’t called this time. However, it wasn’t out of spite or some juvenile desire to force her to worry about me. For the first time I actually hadn’t been thinking about her at all. I’d only thought about myself, and what I needed to do for me. I’d needed to see Paula, so I had. I’d needed to see our house, so I had. Somewhere between all of that there just hadn’t been time for a phoned “I’m going to be late” or a meaningless “Don’t wait up,”

After last night I wasn’t sure where the two of us were in our relationship, but I did know we had moved beyond the point of simple lack of communication. Even if we sat for hours, no amount of talking was going to patch up the holes we had created in our marriage. As much as I hated to admit it, the both of us were to blame for that. Remaining silent and praying that she would just magically wake up and decided that she was ready to talk to me hadn’t done a thing to bridge the gap between us.

The past was the past, and there was nothing I could do about the mistakes the both of us had made. I was resigned to that now. We were at a crossroads and we had to figure out which path we were going to take. The one that led us back together, or the one where we finally let each other go our separate ways. I had already decided that letting things remain as they were now was no longer an option.

All this time I had been fighting as hard as I could against the idea that the two of us could ever be torn apart. I had been fully focused on making things right so that we could be us again, and completely blind to the idea that our relationship had a chance of not making it through. I had always believed that because we loved each other, we would be able to get through this, no matter how many rough patches we hit.

I was a fool.

But I wasn’t going to be a fool anymore. And that was the difference now. It was the reason I felt so much lighter. I had come to the realization that regardless of how much it was written or sang, love wasn’t always enough. Perhaps staying together wasn’t the best thing for us. It was hard to say, but it was the truth.

If you love something, set if free.

That was the selfless part, and I had never been a very selfless person.

If it comes back, it will always be yours.

I had not wanted to think that there was a possibility that she wasn’t mine, and that is why letting go had been so tough for me, but…

If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with.

I knew, regardless of if she was mine or not, I would always love her. I couldn’t help that. But I could no longer be in love with her at such a high price.

My heart, my soul, and my sanity.

“Max.”

She whispered my name softly from her position on our living room couch. I hadn’t expected her to still be up, let alone to be waiting up for me. But that was exactly what she appeared to be doing. She was lying down with a blanket half draped over her lower body, half spilling onto the floor. The television was turned on to an infomercial, it looked like, but the sound was muted. The only light in the room came from the glow of the TV.

“You’re home.” She sat up, and without looking at me, slowly drew her knees to her chest, still beneath the blanket.

Her words immediately brought to the front of my mind, the conversation about coming home, I’d had with Paula earlier tonight. “I’m here.” I said. Because this really hadn’t been a home for either of us in a long while. I walked over to the couch and sat in the spot that her feet had vacated.

It was do or die time. Now or never, and yet I couldn’t make myself speak. I’d had my words picked and planned carefully in my head on the drive over here. I’d known precisely where I was going to start and where I was going to end. But sitting here, next to her, knowing that I had to start the conversation that could eventually lead to the end of our marriage…

I couldn’t make myself start.

“I know there’s something you want to say,” she said. Then she laughed kind of solemnly. “You’ve got that ‘I have something I really want to say to you.’ face. It must be really bad, if you’re having this much trouble saying it.”

And I realized, she already knew.

“I’m going to move out.” They were possibly the hardest words I had ever spoken to her, but they came out of my mouth with no hesitation. The expression on her face told me that they were not easy words for her to hear, but as I had already guessed, she didn’t seem shocked by them.

Ask me not to go, I silently begged, because a part of me was still a hopelessly stubborn lovesick fool. Beg me to stay!

She didn’t. She just nodded her head in understanding, as mute as the television. We both were. It was funny how we could both manage to be so silent when there was so much that needed to be said. But then, I suppose that was the root of our problem to begin with.

She was the first to break the silence. “I understand. If it’s something that you need to do-”

“No,” I cut her off. I didn’t want her to make it sound as if this was a decision I had just come to on my own, when in reality, it was something that she had all but pushed me to. “This isn’t just something I need to do. It’s something you’re making me do.”

Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were bright and glassy, almost as if she had been crying, and for a moment I wondered if she had, but her cheeks were tear streak free as they concentrated on me with confusion clearly written in them. “I’m making you do?” her eyes changed from confusion to disbelief. “I don’t want you to go!”

The admission hadn’t made me feel as good as I imagined it would. “Really, then you do want me to stay?”

“You’re my husband, Max.” There was a slight vestige of annoyance in her tone.

I shook my head. I knew the answer wasn’t as obvious as she tried to make it seem. “Information we are both well aware of. But that doesn’t answer the question does it?”

Her gaze moved to the knitted blanket still draped over her knees. She picked at it absently as if she were not sure what to do with her hands. “Yes, I want you to stay,” she finally answered, but I wasn’t sure if she was telling me the truth, and I could tell she was just as unsure of her answer as I was.

I sighed. It was late. We were both tired. This was important, but not something I wanted us to be arguing about. “It feels like you’re not even trying, and I can’t keep doing this alone. Not with you working against me.”

Her head shot up. “I’m not working against you. I am trying. I’m trying as hard as I can.” But there was a lack of conviction behind those words. She knew what I was saying to be true.

“I love you,” I continued. I had to keep talking. I had to get it all out. “Nothing will ever change that, but…”

But what? I thought.

“But what?” she asked.

“But it’s not helping us. It’s not making this any easier to deal with. If anything, it’s making things harder for us.” I couldn’t look at her as I spoke, so I turned my gaze instead to the silent man jumping up and down in great excitement over his New Age Auto-Peeler, on our TV screen.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat, but if my words were like a slap in the face to her, they were repeated kicks to the stomach for me.

“It will be better for both of us this way.” I finished. It was odd saying it when I wasn’t sure if I believed it. I suppose a more accurate statement would have been, ‘It will be different for both of us this way.’ No emphasis on whether or not that ‘difference’ was better or worse.

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and when I looked back to her, her face was pressed against her knees. I couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but when she looked back up at me her eyes were dry.

“Do…do you want a divorce?”

No! God no! I didn’t. It was what I wanted least of all. But I wasn’t going to fool myself into believing that divorce wasn’t a possibility, maybe even the ultimate possibility.

“No, I don’t want a divorce.” I answered truthfully. I could hear her sigh, but her face gave nothing away. Was that relief I saw? “But I won't lie to you. I won't tell you that that isn’t where this could all end up. We’ll just…we’ll have to see I guess.”

She rested her head against the back of the couch. “How is your leaving going to help? How do you know this isn’t going to just push us even farther apart?”

“I don’t know it.” I answered. And I truly didn’t.

“Max,” My name as a moan of frustration on her lips. “What are we doing? Are we planning our own separation? This is crazy. It doesn’t make any since.”

“I know.”

“I’m pregnant,” she shouted, not at me, she just shouted. And the way she said it sounded more like she was trying to remind herself of the fact. I watched her drag her fingers through her hair in aggravation. It was the most passion I had seen in her in months.

I sighed, and pinched the skin between my eyebrows. It would have been a lie to say I wasn’t starting to feel some of that aggravation as well. “I know, and it’s something that the both of us are going to have to deal with, but it doesn’t really change this.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t change this? It changes everything. It’s the reason for everything!”

“No, it isn’t. It may be an added catalyst to what’s going on with us, but it isn’t the reason for everything.”

“Yes it is!” she said with another drag of her fingers through her hair. “If I wasn’t pregnant…you and I…we could just…we could just go back to being-”

“Completely miserable.” I finished. She looked hurt, but I couldn’t be sorry for saying it. She had to know.

“I was going to say, us,” she said.

I knew that already, because it was what I wanted to believe too. I had been living in a dreamland before, where there would be some simple way that the two of us could just go back to being us again. But I had woken up from that fantasy.

If she truly thought her pregnancy to be the soul cause to all our problems, if she really didn’t see all of the things that were keeping us from being the people that we used to be, then she was living in an even greater fantasyland than I had been.

“Are you ready to have a baby, or do you still want an abortion?” I asked her bluntly. I wanted to make her see what was truly keeping us apart, even if I couldn’t exactly see it clearly myself.

“I…I don’t know.”

I had been expecting that answer.

“I went to New Castle tonight.” I watched for her reaction. At first her eyes rounded with shock like I had just admitted to a horrible betrayal. I imagine I had worn the exact same look of horror on my face when I had discovered her desire to abort our child without telling me. Then, as I was expecting, her eyes saddened as they always did whenever I made mention of our house in New Castle. That look was her true answer.

“You’re not ready, and I can’t force you to be.” I looked towards her middle as I spoke, I could almost picture the child that was growing there. It was hard not to. “I want this child.” It was probably what I wanted most in the world right now. “But it wouldn’t be right to bring one into our world while it’s in such…” I searched my mind for a word that would adequately describe the emotional wrenching our lives had been.

Gut twisting, sickeningly heartbreakingly painful strain. Was there one word for all that?

“Turmoil,” I substituted. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or me, or the child.”

Her brow creased. “Are you saying you think I should have an abortion?

“I’m saying, having a baby would only complicate matters more. I don’t think you would ever be able to forgive me if I forced you to have this baby. I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

She looked at me before she spoke hesitantly. “So then…I should…we should abort?”

She didn’t sound hopeful or gratified, and I was thankful for that. I don’t know if I would have been able to stand it if she was openly relieved. My heart was already pounding out a drum core rhythm, and my mind was screaming at me to say no, I didn’t want her to have an abortion. But my head, my heart betraying head, it nodded yes.

I wasn’t sure what reaction to expect from her at my nod -relief, remorse, release, regret? She didn’t show any of those emotions. Contrarily, her face remained incredibly stoic.

“And then we’ll try to work on us?” she asked, her voice as flat as her expression.

“And then we’ll try.” I repeated. But I wasn’t sure if aborting our child was something I would ever be able to move past. And I told her so.

This time her face did change. “Wait a minute. Are you saying to me you don’t want to force me to have this child, nor do you think it wise for us to have one while our relationship is under so much duress, but if I have an abortion, we may not be able to work things out?”

I nodded. “That is exactly what I’m saying.”

She sat up from the couch so that our bodies were now closer together. “That doesn’t make any since, Max. You’re dooming us to fail.”

I knew I was dooming the two of us. But there wasn’t anything to be done for it. Because deep down, I knew it was the truth. I knew that no matter what happened in the future, if we talked about the past, if we moved past all our difficulties, a quiet resentment would always linger within me if she aborted our child.

“So if we abort, I lose you.” She surmised.

Once again, I gave a silent nod.

And if we keep it, I lose you.

“This is insane, completely insane.” She crawled closer to me so that she was now mostly in my lap, and placed her hand flat against my chest. I didn’t fight her when she pushed me back to a reclined position before burrowing her face against my chest, with my shirt firmly gripped in her hands.

“You can’t say that!” she shouted into my chest. I hadn’t even realized I had spoken my thought out loud.

“You can’t doom us like that,” she continued against my chest, her voice was mostly muffled by my shirt and body, but I could still make out her distressed words. “It isn’t fair.”

I almost started to laugh at that. No, it wasn’t fair. No one knew that more than I did. But she didn’t seem to realize that it wasn’t just my desire to have this child, and her desire not to that was causing the rift, and that, in and of itself, was one of our problems. There were so many other things. Things that she refused to talk about with me, and things I hadn’t tried to discuss with her.
I lifted my hand and ran in along her head, smoothing her dark hair back.

“I wish,” she gasped softly, and I could now hear the soft hitch in her voice that told me she had started to cry. “…I wish we had a time machine. Then we could just go back.” Her voice squeaked on the last word. “Back before all of this.”

I smiled sadly over her head and continued to smooth her hair. A time machine wouldn’t fix us. It would only cause us to have to relive this pain all over again. But I didn’t say that to her. She was already visibly upset. This entire conversation had been draining, and I didn’t see a reason to add distress when we were both already weighed down with it.

So instead, I let my fingers finish their trail through her hair, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

I felt her inhale against my chest as she attempted to regain her composure. “What about you?” She lifted her head and stared me directly in the eyes. “You’re not coming with me, are you?” Even though it was a question, it came out as more of a statement of fact than a true inquiry.

She was right. I had no intentions of sleeping with her tonight. If I was truly going to do this, there was no need to drag it out. I would just be lying to the both of us.

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight…and move my things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That soon?”

Yes. I nodded. “Yeah, that soon.” I repeated.

“Are you going to stay…there?”

In New Castle, she meant. I knew the question had been burning inside of her. There. She said it as if ‘there’ was the devil’s palace, and I was his honored guest.

“No, I’ll stay with my parents or my sister.” Though, probably not the latter. All of this would be hard enough without her hounding me, and ‘I told you so’ was the last thing I needed to hear right now. But I wouldn’t stay in New Castle. I had only gone there tonight to say goodbye.

“I’m going to talk to a realtor on Monday.” It was time to cut those strings as well.

She looked genuinely surprised. “You said you weren’t ready to sell.”

I had told her that. It was the only reason we still had the house. And if I were perfectly honest with myself, I still wasn’t ready. To me, our home in New Castle was a huge part of our daughter. Letting go of it would be like letting go of her all over again. But…

“It’s time to cut those strings as well.” Even if I had to use rusty scissors.

We laid on the couch together for a few quiet moments. She made no indication of having any intentions of going to bed, and I couldn’t say that I was in a hurry to send her away. She felt so good against me. She always had, and I’d always loved holding her.

I still did.

“Please,” she whispered after what seemed an eternity. “Just tonight…since you’re leaving tomorrow anyway. Just stay with me one last night.”

One last night.

It wasn’t the begging of me to stay with her that I had initially wanted. Just a simple request for one last night with me. Somehow, that made it seem all the more intense than any asking of me to stay with her forever would have been.

I wanted to. I wanted to so much. I loved her, she was my wife, and I wanted to stay with her. It should have been that simple. But I knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do. It wasn’t what either of the two of us needed. It was what I wanted, but not what we needed. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

When I didn’t respond immediately she lifted her hand and traced my chin with her fingers. “Even if we both have to pretend,” she whispered.

I didn’t want to have to pretend with her. Neither did I want her to be pretending with me. But we had both been pretending for so long it was hard to remember what being natural really felt like. Even with all of that, my heart knew I would give in before my mind could reason the idea away. And when without another word, she lifted off of me, got to her feet, and extended her hand out towards me, I took it with little thought of denying her.

I silently cursed myself the entire time I followed her to our bedroom. I guess I wasn’t quite as done with being a fool as I had thought I was.

TBC

[RosDude]

Thank you everyone. You have all been great. Because it has almost been a year since I last updated I guess a little recap would help. But feel free to go back and reread if this does not jog your memory.

- Recap -

Max Evans is happily married…well not really. For the past few months his marriage has not been what it used to be because of an event that took place in their past. His wife has been slipping away and he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. Meanwhile at work Max discovers that one of his favorite patients may have a malignant bone cancer. Max continues to live his life as best he can, comforting his patients and attempting to mend his marriage.

He thinks he’s making a little leeway when on the night of his 29th birthday he and his wife share a passionate moment. But things aren’t looking so good the next morning when his wife is sick in the bathtub. She claims that there is nothing wrong, but he begins to suspect that she is pregnant.

Later that night, Max comes home to find that his sister Isabel is there making him a home cooked meal. Max confides in her about his suspicions about his wife. Isabel suggests that perhaps he should talk to someone, and Max gets upset and vents his frustration on her. Isabel gets upset as well and leaves. When Liz comes home Max confronts her again about being pregnant. This time she revels to him that she is pregnant and that she didn’t want him to know because she was secretly planning to abort the baby.

This tears Max apart. And though she continually apologizes he feels hurt and betrayed to the point where he questions if the baby is his. His wife is shocked by the question, but immediately revels that it is his and that she would never cheat on him. Max feels numb all over. His wife continues to apologize and begins kissing him all over his body, sweet passionate kisses. Then something inside of Max snaps and he turns those kisses into angry lovemaking. Max takes her fiercely in the kitchen and when it’s over the two of them are still at a lost for what to do.

The next day Max goes to see his patient Paula in the hospital. She reminds him that home is the most important place, and so Max takes a trip home. He visits an empty house that he and his wife bought and were at one point planning on living in. He walks through the house and remembers a happier time when he and his wife were preparing to move in. Then he enters a room, a child’s nursery and sits down in a rocking chair, where he touches a picture that is of an ultrasound of his daughter.

When he returns home that night his wife has waited up for him. He sits down and tells her that he thinks that they should separate. She’s upset by this and doesn’t seem to really understand why. She seems to believe that the root of their problem is that she is pregnant again, and doesn’t seem to realize that their problems started with her pulling away after the loss of their first child.

Max decides that forcing his wife to have a child that she doesn’t want is unfair to her, so he agrees to the abortion. But he also tells her that after this he doesn’t think it is something that he will ever be able to move past. He decides to sleep on the couch and leave in the morning, but she begs him to stay one last night with her, and reluctantly, he agrees.

What will happen to Max’s marriage now that he and his wife are separating? Will they ever be able to mend the holes in their life, or are the hurts too big to move past?

~~NINE~~

It had been almost a week since I’d moved out of the apartment I’d shared with my wife, and my phone had yet to stop ringing. But I knew very well the source of all the calls. It hadn’t taken long for word of my separation to spread to my family. Half the calls were from Isabel, the other half from my mother.

My voicemail had eight as of yet unanswered messages and as far as I was concerned they were going to remain unanswered. I had come to a decision. I was going to deal with this calmly without letting any of the pressure get to me. Rational baby steps are what I needed to take.

Particularly, rational steps that didn’t involve everyone bombarding me with a ton of questions about my personal life that really was none of their business.

This was already hard enough as it was. I’d thought about my wife constantly since our separation. The majority of my life had been spent with her in it. Getting used to her not being in my life was something new. I’d often found myself spending more time than I liked wondering what she was doing. Was she having the same experience as me? The insistent phone calls? The demanding questions? How was she dealing with all of this? Was she as lonely as I was?

The loneliness was an unexpected factor of this separation that I had not considered. But I was lonely. It was a stupid thing really, but I continuously had to stop myself from speaking to a person that was not there. Once, I had even had to stop myself from calling out and letting her know I was home. It was something I would have to work on.

It would not be easy.

It was odd being alone this way. I suppose in a way, I had been alone before, with her being as emotionally detached from me as she was. Still, there was something about her physical presence, regardless of how distant she was, it gave me solace. This was a unique experience, being truly alone. In some ways it was even harder than before.

Getting used to that wouldn’t be easy either.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

I looked up when I heard Michael call out to me. Instead of staying with my mother or Isabel, neither of which I really wanted to have to deal with at the moment, I’d opted to crash with Michael instead. It was most definitely a temporary situation. At least until I figured out what I was going to do next.

Michael was holding up two pieces of paper in one hand, and the telephone in the other. “Pizza, or Chinese?” he asked with a wave of the papers.

“It doesn’t matter,” I answered. If Isabel thought my dining habits had been bad before, she would have been appalled to see them now. I didn’t know it was possible for two people to consume as much takeout as the two of us had in my almost week of being Michael Guerin’s roommate.

“Pizza it is,” Michael said, and then began to dial the number that I was pretty sure he’d had permanently infused in his brain.

He ordered more pizza than either of the two of us would ever be able to consume, then plopped down on the couch next to me. The two of us sat there watching television in a sort of awkward silence. I never turned my head, but every few seconds I could feel Michael staring at me, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to start.

Chances were pretty good that Isabel and my mother knew I was staying with Michael. If so, I would bet my life that they had somehow coerced him into finding out all the details he could about my separation from my wife. That was a kicker. My original reason for deciding to room here was that I hadn’t thought Michael could be manipulated so easily. I guess I was wrong.

“What is it, Michael?” I finally asked him. It was better to get this over with as quickly as possible than to have to sit here pretending not to watch him pretending to watch television.

He just shrugged in answer. “Nothing, why do you ask?”

I didn’t take my eyes from off the TV. “Well, you’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. I just assumed there was something on your mind. Maybe something you wanted to ask me.” Then I did look at him. “Or something someone else wanted you to ask?”

“Alright, so they got to me,” Michael admitted. I had already figured as much. I was just thankful he’d decided not to drag this out any longer.

“But come on Maxwell,” he continued. “You can’t blame them. You guys getting separated? It’s sort of a big deal.”

“It’s also sort of none of their business.”

“Maybe, but when has that ever stopped them?”

The two of us laughed. And I knew Michael was right. But that still didn’t make me more inclined to want to share the gory details of my failed marriage with my sister and my mother. I guess Michael could read the expression on my face because his expression got suddenly serious as he looked at me.

“Look, I’m only going to say this once, and after this I’m not going to hound you about it or anything like that,” He said.

“Ok,” I agreed.

“Alright, here it goes.” Michael took a deep breath. “If you ever do want to talk about things, I don’t mind listening to you whine too much,” He said as If I had forcibly been pulling his teeth.

I laughed again. “Thanks Michael.”

He nodded. “And um, you can crash here for as long as…ya know, things are rocky.”

“Thanks again,” I said.

“Right so…”

More awkward silence, and then Michael reached for the remote that sat on the couch in between the two of us. “Isn’t there a hockey game on?” He said, obviously changing the subject.

Feeling just as uncomfortable with the current topic as he had, I let him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come in.”

Her voice was soft and coaxing. It called to me with a sort of hypnotic enticement I was unable to resist. As I entered into the room a part of me wondered if I was crazy for actually coming here, crazy for doing this. But there was another part of me, I’m ashamed to admit, that was excited to find out what awaited me.

She was a beautiful woman. I knew she would be. She was after all, an old acquaintance of Kyle’s, so her looks didn’t surprise me. Still, she was not what I was expecting. Her eyes met mine across the room as I ambled slowly into it. I stopped when she looked at me, and made no move to come closer. She smiled a friendly smile and crossed her legs patiently.

“Max Evans?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m Max Evans.”

“You seem nervous, Max,” she sad. “May I call you Max?”

Again, I nodded.

“This must be your first time.” Though she asked it as a question, she looked confident that she already knew the answer.

I swallowed hard, hoping my voice came out with little rasp. “My first time in a place like this, yes.”

She chuckled as if she had heard that line many times before, and with an elegant swoop of her hand, threw her hair causally behind her shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to be nervous, Max. This isn’t my first time.” Her voice was light and teasing, but it aided little in making me feel any less nervous.

“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat,” she suggested again in that coaxingly sweet voice, and patted her hand on the sofa.

I wanted to leave. Being there didn’t feel right. Nevertheless, I found myself taking that seat before I had time enough to change my mind.

“There, isn’t that’s better? See, I don’t bite.”

She was teasing me again, and I smiled at her for her efforts. “I’m sorry. It’s just…well I’ve never done anything like this before and…well…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Max.”

“Okay,” I said. Even so, I still felt the strong desire to defend my reasons for being here. I fought the urge.

“Max, I’m going to do all I can to make sure this is an enjoyable experience for you.” She reached over and touched my shoulder lightly. “And who knows, maybe by the time we’re done you’ll want to make this a more than one time thing.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

“Let’s begin then.” She motioned to the extra space on the couch I was sitting on. “Would you like to lie down?”

I shook my head.

She nodded “Very well.” She uncrossed her legs and positioned herself in her chair so that she was sitting at a direct angle from me. Her gaze was focused completely on me as she gave me her full attention. “So, tell me about your wife.”

I fought the urge to cringe. I understood the point of this, but it was difficult to bring myself to speak on it. “Do we have to talk about her?”

She frowned. “We can talk about anything you’d like, Max, but isn’t she the primary reason you’re here?”

I said nothing. As inviting as she tried to make it sound, I still didn’t feel particularly inclined to air out my woes to a complete stranger. When I didn’t answer, she examined me with a peculiar look before she spoke again. “Let’s start with this question. What is it that you wish to take away from this experience?”

“Honestly? The satisfaction of having done it,” I answered truthfully.

She looked as if she had been expecting that answer. “So, then it is safe for me to assume that you’re here more out of a sense that this is something you believe you have to do and not necessarily something you want or need to do.”

“Is there a difference?” And who actually wants to do this?

“Max, one of the first things you have to do is find a belief in the processes. I can’t help you if you don’t really feel you need to be helped.”

She was starting to sound more and more like a therapist with every word that came out of her mouth. But I couldn’t stop the skeptical look from taking shape on my face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize therapy was a step program. Is this acceptance? Fine, I accept that I need therapy.”

Although I’m sure she didn’t miss the scoff in my tone, her voice remained unwearied. “The only person that truly knows what you need is you. It’s difficult to benefit from something when you feel there is nothing to be gained by it. If you don’t believe this will help you I can’t say any differently.” She motioned towards the door. “The last thing I want is for you to waste your time.”

I stated to leave. I wasn’t going to beg her to let me pay her to tell me how screwed up in the head I was. But as I tried to rise, my body claimed an unexpectedly bothersome resistance to my mind, and would not allow me to get to my feet.

She watched me. Her eyes were patient, and she and my legs knew I wasn’t going anywhere. “Are you leaving, Mr. Evans?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t fight the feeling that I had somehow been tricked, but for the life of me I couldn’t see how. She on the other hand, was still smiling and looking rather pleased with herself. “Well then. Let us begin.”

I reclined back against the sofa. “What do I say?”

“That depends. Where would you like to start?” she asked.

There seemed a million places to start. A million things to say. Things I hadn’t said before to anyone aside from myself. Things I didn’t even want to say to her. Things I wanted to shout to the world, and things I never wanted anyone to hear. I looked up into her eyes again. What I saw were the eyes of a woman who I had no doubt had been doing this for quite a bit of time. Looking into her eyes, I allowed myself to speak the words I hadn’t even known I wanted to say. “The beginning.”

“It’s as good a place as any,” she answered with a genuine smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing a therapist was different from what I’d thought it would be. Like most people I was guilty of having visions of a typical television session complete with asinine and irrelevant questions, and maybe even an inkblot or two. What it turned out to be was completely different.

I didn’t know if I’d find myself inside of Dr. Marcum’s office often, but I couldn’t honestly say coming here was something I regretted. Do I think I’ve benefited great amounts from it? No. Do I feel as if a huge load has been lifted off my shoulder? Not really. I knew therapy wasn’t some wonder treatment that was going to magically fix all of my problems, but they say it’s good not to bottle things up and I had definitely been bottling.

“Remember that you’re not alone in this Max. Your friends, your family, they’re all here to help you.”

I nodded my head, albeit somewhat halfheartedly. I knew my friends and family were here for me. Opening up was still something it was going to take a while for me to get used to.

“By not talking about things with the people that love you, you’re only doing the same thing to them that your wife’s doing to you. Closing up. Pushing them away.”

I shook my head. “It isn’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “You don’t believe your family could possibly be feeling the same distance from you that you’re feeling from your wife? You don’t think you could somehow be projecting that distance onto the people around you?”

My hand gripped the sofa arm tightly. I understood what she was saying, and chances were she was probably right, but it just didn’t feel the same. “With all due respect, Dr. Marcum, you have no idea how I feel. My family doesn’t know what this feels like.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean other people won’t empathize with you, Max. It doesn’t mean that they don’t understand how hard it is for you.”

How could they? I wanted to scream. Watching a pileup from a side road wasn’t the same as being in the wreckage. The last thing I wanted to see was my family gawking and pitying me from the sidelines.

“It’s just…not the same,” I repeated.

Dr. Marcum continued to eye me calmly as she had throughout the entire session. It was as if the woman didn’t posses the ability to become frustrated. I, on the other hand, had surpassed frustrated about twenty minutes ago.

“Ok, I want you to try something Max.”

“What?” I asked skeptically.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing monumental. It’s simple really. Something you really should have no trouble with.”

“What?” I asked again.

“I want you to spend time with your family and friends.” I started to object but she was already waving and cutting me off. “Not to talk about your wife, or to discuss your marital problems. Just to spend time with them. Have dinner with them. Talk about sports, the weather, who’s doing who on the soaps.”

I laughed and so did she.

“The point is,” she continued. “To spend time with the people you love doing the things you love. One of your biggest problems, Max, is that you let the tribulations you are going through in your marriage hang like a storm cloud over the rest of your life. And so yeah, people worry about you.”

“Dr. Marcum, I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not the type of person that can just pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t.”

“And I’m not asking you to, Max. Of course you’re going through a difficult time in your life, and I don’t expect you to go out and party it up like life’s a picnic. But life isn’t a picnic, and bad things are going to happen. You can’t let them set the tone for the rest of your life, or else you’re always going to be miserable. And eventually you’ll make the people around you miserable, and you’ll just be stuck in a cycle of misery until you decide to do something about it.”

I sat there for a moment letting her words sink in. She was right. I had been letting my personal issues affect every aspect of my life. And as much as I hated to admit it, I probably was doing the same thing to my family that I had accused my wife of doing. I turned back to look at Dr. Marcum, who was now looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Well, it looks like we are just about out of time,” she was saying. She stood up and so did I, the two of us shook hands and she walked me to the door. “I hope this has been a good experience for you, Max. It wasn’t too rough for your first time, was it?” she asked jokingly as the two of us stood in the doorway of her office.

I shook my head. “No, it was…it was fine.”

She nodded. “Remember what I said, Max. You don’t have to broadcast your unhappiness to the world. You can deal with it in stages, and still manage to enjoy the rest of your life.”

“I’ll think about it, Dr. Marcum.”

“Please do, and please, I hope you won’t hesitate to see me again if you need to.”

I didn’t confirm or deny that. “Thank you.”

Almost the minute I left Dr. Marcum’s office I felt the vibration of my phone in my pocket. I took it out, held it up. Sure enough it was my sister, but for the first time I did not feel the urge to ignore the call. A small voice that seemed to carry on from my session echoed in my head, sounding strangely like Dr. Marcum.

“Hey sis,” I answered for the first time in almost a week.

“Max, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon.” She sounded surprised to be speaking to someone other than my voicemail. I couldn’t blame her for that. I hadn’t exactly been the easiest guy to talk to in the past week.

“Yeah sorry. I’m on call so I’ve been screening, and I had something that I had to do–

“Listen Max, are you…”

“Hey, do you think we’d be able to get together at Mom’s tonight?”

“Max…what? At Mom’s? No, Max listen-”

“For dinner or something. I cold use a nice home cooked meal.”

“Max!” This time she shouted my name over the phone and I knew there would be no ignoring her.

“What is it, Isabel?”

“Max, just listen to me.” I did, and I could hear that what I had initially thought was annoyance, was the sound of urgency. Something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” I took a deep breath. I heard her take one as well.

“First, I need you to promise me that you’re going to stay calm,” she commanded.

I hated that. Telling me to remain calm did nothing but assure my anxiety. “What is it?” I repeated.

“I need your promise, Max.”

“I can’t do that, Isabel.”

She made an annoyed sound over the phone. “Max, I don’t have time for this,” she complained.

“Then just tell me what it is.” My heart was starting to pound in my chest. I could tell from the sound of her voice, as well as her impatience and anxiety that whatever was the matter was something very serious.

“Max…” she sounded reluctant to speak.

“Just tell me.” I tried hard not to shout, but the anticipation was driving me crazy. I hadn’t felt this anxious since…

“There’s been an accident,” my sister finally answered.

Don’t panic, I told myself. Just don’t immediately panic. “What kind of accident?” I asked calmly. But I knew, somehow, without her even saying the words I knew.

“A car accident,” She explained.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” I heard myself say, all the while terrified of hearing the words of confirmation from my sister.

The line was silent. That was answer enough.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I don’t think this is something we should be discussing over the phone. I’m at the hospital right now. Tell me where you are, I’ll come and get you.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Max, I know this has to be extremely upsetting for you. I don’t think you should be driving right now”

“I said I’ll meet you.”

I hung up.

TBC

[RosDude]

I’m sorry that this has taken so long. I know you all have been waiting, so I’ll just cut out the chitchat and get right to it. This bad boys almost done. Only a few more parts to go.

carolina_moon
Cocogurl
Emz80m
keepsmiling7
begonia9508
Alien_Friend
Natalie36
Dream Weaver
CandyDreamQueen
bella_svetlana
nitpick23

Thanks for not giving me too hard of a time for being so crappy at this whole “updating” thing. Especially those of you that aren’t too far from me. (You know who you are) I appreciate you not killing me when you know where I live.

~~TEN~~

I walked down the hallway of the hospital like a zombie moving slowly through a graveyard. I wanted to move faster. The desire to sprint, or run, or dash through the hospital hallways was more dominant in me than anything else. But I couldn’t. My feet felt like weights and would not obey the command my mind was sending to them to run. I couldn’t feel my legs moving, or feel my feet scraping across the freshly moped floors. I heard nothing over the sound of my own blood rushing through my head. It drowned out my thoughts. I wasn’t even sure if I had any thoughts. I couldn’t tell anymore. The only thing that was clear to me was that I needed to move, and my body wasn’t allowing me to. When I finally reached the waiting room where I had arranged to meet my sister, I almost walked right past her.

“Max!” she called out, coming to meet me. When she reached my side she didn’t say another word, just wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug. Alex stood behind her; his hands had been on her shoulders. He stepped away as the two of us hugged.

“Where is she?” I was surprised to find my voice was able to ask the question.

“She’s still in emergency, but the doctor is with her.”

“Where…where is everyone else?”

“Michael and Maria are on their way. They went to pick up her parents. Kyle’s at work, but he said he’d be here as soon as he could. Max-”

“What happened?” I asked into her shoulder.

She stepped away from me but left her arms on my shoulders. “So far I haven’t been able to get any details. I just know that there was a car accident.”

An accident. I repeated the words in my head over and over. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to make sense of them. An accident. What did that mean? People had accidents every day. Small accidents, large accidents, meaningless accidents, monumental accidents. I didn’t need to hear that there had been an accident. I needed to know what kind of accident. Where? When? With who?

“Isabel, just tell me, is she alright?” As I asked the question a part of me was already dreading hearing the answer. Please let her be all right!

My sister looked at me with sad eyes and I felt my stomach drop down to my feet. “She’s…she’s alive. We haven’t been able to see her, but I was able to get one of the nurses to tell me that she was unconscious, but she was alive when they brought her in.”

Alive. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was the only information I had. I clung on to it. Still, unconscious could mean so many things. “I want to see her.”

“I know you do, but you know hospital procedure better than any of us. They’re not letting anyone in until they’ve determined…you know…what they determine.”

I didn’t care about any stupid hospital procedure. “I want to see her.” My wife was in a car accident and the only way I was going to be able to determine if she was ok was if I saw her for myself.

“Max, just try to calm down. If you go in there you’re only going to make things worse.”

I shook my head. No, there wasn’t any way things could possibly get worse. This was like reliving a nightmare I’d thought I’d woken up from a long time ago.

“Isabel,” I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to hold my wife. I wanted to hold her so badly. I wanted to see her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to be okay. I wanted our baby to be okay. I wanted our baby. “She’s pregnant,” I told my sister. And as I said those words, I knew. I knew in that moment that there was no way in the world that I wanted to give up our baby. Not by choice, and not by this. I wanted our baby.

Isabel gaped at me, shocked by my revelation. “She’s pregnant?” Her mouth practically dropped to the floor.

I nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

She placed her hands over her mouth. “Oh Max. Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said shaking her head.

Alex walked up beside us, immediately taking Isabel into his arms. “What’s the matter?” he asked me, when he saw the look on her face.

“I just…I need to see her.” I said.

Then the emergency room doors opened. Isabel looked up and I knew the doctor had finally come out. I turned around and walked over to him, still unable to make myself move as fast as I wanted to. I heard footsteps behind me and knew Isabel and Alex had followed me.

“Max, this is Dr. Kirkland. Dr. Kirkland, my brother Max,” Isabel introduced.

“Dr. Evans,” Dr. Kirkland nodded in acknowledgement.

“How is my wife?” It was rude, but introductions were not exactly top priority on my list at the moment.

The look the doctor sent me was not one of reassurance. “Why don’t we have a seat?” he said, and directed the three of us back to the chairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held her hand as I sat at her bedside and watched her chest move slowly up and down as she breathed in and out. The movement was barely detectable, but I could see it. I had to see it. I looked for it purposefully, if for no other reason than to assure myself that she was still breathing. That was the most important thing. That she was still breathing.

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there. It could have been a few minutes; it could have been a few millennia. I couldn’t tell. My perception of time had vanished the moment I’d stepped out of the cab and walked through the emergency room doors. I could recall nothing of the drive over, and could only vaguely remember the conversation I’d had with Isabel and the doctor before I was finally allowed to see my wife.

The hospital had been trying to reach me. They hadn’t been able to. I was one of their very own doctors and they hadn’t been able to get in touch with me. Stupid me! I’d turned my phone off, ignoring all my personal calls in a selfish attempt to avoid my mother and sister. When they hadn’t been able to reach me, they’d called her parents, who’d called my sister to try to get a hold of me. Stupid me!

And now here I sat, hours after the fact, not knowing the details of what had happened. Not knowing if this was truly an accident, or if it had been intentional. Not knowing if my wife would even be okay.

In the short time I’d spoken to the doctor, even now I couldn’t remember his name, he’d been vague on the details of my wife’s condition. Saying only that she’d suffered head trauma and a few bad cuts, but that they had managed to stop her from bleeding. She was stable now, but she had yet to regain consciousness since she’d been brought in.

That scared the hell out of me.

Head trauma: one of the most dangerous types trauma a person could sustain. There were so many complications associated with head trauma, so many possibilities for serious damage, or even worse, death. The fact that she had been unconscious for so long was not a good thing. How long would she remain this way? Would she even wake up? Was I going to lose my wife once and for all? Trying not to think of those things was like trying not to breathe. Then again, I felt as if I could barely do that.

As for our baby…

They didn’t know. There had been some bleeding, and things were still touch and go, but she hadn’t hemorrhaged, not like last time. Thank God for that.

I squeezed her hand, wanting desperately to feel her squeeze mine back, but she didn’t. She was still. Unconscious.

“Ahh baby” I whispered softly, touching my forehead to hers. “What did you do?”

What did you do?

What did you do?

Those words played inside my head, again and again like a broken record. And suddenly I was no longer sitting in a hospital room at my wife’s bedside. All I could hear was those words. My voice echoed them over and over. And even though it had been another time, the feeling was the same. The ache in my heart was the same. The fear in my soul was the same.

She was up early for a Sunday.

She loved her weekends, and often made it a habit to sleep in late. The pregnancy had caused her to do so even more. On the days that I could, I would sleep in with her. It was a luxury I enjoyed, even if it wasn’t one I was often able to do. But today she was up early. When I reached out for her sleepy body, I’d found the space beside me empty of my wife. The bedside clock read 6:43am, much too early for a lazy Sunday. It was too early for any day.

I could hear water running. It was coming from the bathroom. She must have gotten up to take a shower. I smiled to myself. It was still too early, but I had never been a man to pass up a leisurely shower with my beautiful wife. Regardless of how early in the morning it was. I rolled out of bed, preparing to surprise her mid shower, just as she had done to me on multiple occasions, when the door to the bathroom opened.

It didn’t take me long to figure out something was wrong.

She stood in the doorway, her small frame wrapped in a large towel, her hands pressed flat against her stomach. She was wet, and she was shaking, but I could tell that it wasn’t from the cold. Her expression was shocked, and I didn’t know if the wetness on her face was from the water, or if there were tears mixed in as well. Right away I went to her side, placing my hands on her cold, wet shoulders. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, giving her a little shake. I’d never seen her look so frightened. I had never been so frightened.

“Max,” she whispered. She was looking at me, but she wasn’t. Her voice was hollowed.

“What? What is it? Tell me?” The look on her face terrified me.

She shook her head, and just said my name again. “Max.”

“Baby, please.” I begged, taking her hands in mine. “You’re scaring me.”

Finally she looked at me, really looked at me, and that look pierced me right through the heart.

“I’m bleeding,” she whispered. It was the last thing she said before she collapsed into my arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hated waiting. It made me feel helpless. I was a doctor, God damn it! I should have been in that room with my wife. I should have been right there beside her, holding her hand, stroking her hair, kissing her face. But I wasn’t. I was here. I was waiting.

But I didn’t have to wait long.

Dr. Smith was a good friend of mine. We’d gone to med school together, and she was my wife’s gynecologist. I’d known her for a very long time. So from the moment she stepped out of the room, to the moment her eyes locked with mine, I knew what she was about to tell me.

I stood up slowly.

She didn’t say the words. She just shook her head. “Max, I’m sorry.”

I closed my eyes. I was shaking my head too.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, but I couldn’t really hear her. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. This couldn’t be real. I didn’t want this to be real.

“You can go in and see her now if you’d like.” Dr. Smith told me, but I was already opening the door.

The room was quiet. There wasn’t even a whisper of a sound. No beeping of medical equipment, or even the soft humming of the florescent lighting that hung above her bed. Nothing. There was just silence. She looked so still as she lay there in that bed. The hospital gown she wore seemed to swallow her up. Her hand was still pressing against her stomach, just as it had in our bedroom. Her head was turned away from me, but I knew there were tears. There had to be. I could feel them in my own eyes
I walked over to her slowly, and sat down in the chair beside her bed. I didn’t say anything, and she didn’t acknowledge my presence. She just stared. Seemingly at nothing.

“I lost her,” she said, but she didn’t seem to be talking to me.

I was speechless. I watched her hand as it started to move, slowly caressing her now empty belly. Still, I had no words.

“I bled, and I lost her.” Her voice was confused sounding. Searching for an explanation she just couldn’t find.

“What…” I was somehow able to speak around the large lump in my throat. “What did you do?”

I should have stayed quiet. I knew that the second the words left my mouth. But I had said them. They were out there, and I couldn’t take them back.

Now she was looking at me. Her eyes were large in her head, bright with unshed tears. “Wh-what?”

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s not your fault; none of this is your fault. I love you. I love you so much. We’ll get though this. We’ll have more children. We’ll love them just as much. I love you!

They were the words I should have said.

But I didn’t’ say them.

“Tell me what you did? How did this…how could this…what did you do?” I closed my eyes. My god this hurt, this hurt so badly.

“Max…I don’t…I don’t know,” her voice broke.

I shook my head, feeling the tears in my eyes roll down my cheek. I lifted her hands from her stomach and placed my own hands there. Her stomach was soft, no longer the hard bump it had once been, no longer full with the life she had carried inside of her.

“Our little girl.” I whimpered brokenly. She was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she said “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” And her eyes slowly drifted closed.

They were the two things I cared most about in this world. More than my life, more than my job, more than anything! My wife and my daughter. Sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the right words. It wasn’t going to bring our baby girl back. It wasn’t going to make this pain go away. But she was sorry, and Dr. Smith was sorry, and I was sorry too.

I was so damn sorry…

I had been sorry for months. But it was with the memory of that awful day a realization came to me, and it was something that had taken me until this very moment to see.

This was my fault.

It was all my fault. The way she’d pulled away. The way she’d hidden her second pregnancy from me. The way she was scared to have this child. I hadn’t understood before. I hadn’t been able to see it. I hadn’t known why. But I could see it now. And it was all so clear. This was all my fault. Because I hadn’t been there for her, not when she’d needed me the most. She’d just lost our child, and I hadn’t said the right things. I didn’t say I’m sorry. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t tell her I loved her. I didn’t tell her we’d get though this. I didn’t say we’d have more children. I didn’t promise her how much we’d love them. I didn’t tell her I loved her!

No, I hadn’t said any of those things. Instead I’d accused her. I’d blamed her. I’d said, “What did you do?” And I hadn’t even realized the effects those words had held over my wife.

It was all my fault.

So lost was I in my revelation, that I didn’t recognize the slight movement I felt in my hand until I looked down and saw that my hand was being squeezed back. My gaze flew to her face, and I saw that my wife’s eyes were opened. She was looking at me. Her eyes were half closed, and there were bruises and cuts all on her face, but she was looking directly at me, and I had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Max.” Her voice was horse from being underused, and the sound of my name faded softly off her lips.

I squeezed her hand back, and traced her split lip with my thumb. “You’re awake.” I smiled at her, feeling more relieved than I ever had in my entire life.

She licked her dry lips then closed her eyes. I felt the slightest pressure against my skin as she kissed my thumb. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

It ate me up inside. Those words. I stroked her hair. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. And it was okay. I knew that without a doubt in my mind.

A heartbreaking sigh shuttered from her lips. “Again…I did…it…again.” Already the tears had started to leak from her eyes.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not your fault.” I wouldn’t make her feel that way. Never again.

“Yes, it is!” She was ignoring me. “It was my fault, Max! It was my fault! I lost her. I don’t know what I did, but I lost her, and now she's gone!” Her hand squeezed mine even tighter and the tears flooded her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. “She’s gone Max, she’s gone!”

Then she made a sound. It was the most devastating sound I had ever heard in my life. It was the sound of a heart breaking. The sound of wrongfully placed guilt. The sound of a mother who had just lost her child. The sound of a wife who didn’t have her husband.

I couldn’t bare it.

I rose from my chair and sat beside her on the bed, taking her into my arms as her body shook with tears. Then I did what I should have done before. I was right there beside her. I held her hand, I stroked her hair, and I kissed her face. “It’s not your fault.” I breathed into her ear. “None of this is your fault.” I kissed her tear-streaked cheeks. “I love you.” I continued, brushing her hair away from her face. “I love you so much.” I kissed her eyes, then kissed every little cut on her cheeks. “We’ll get though this together,” I promised. “I love you.”

I loved her. I told her so again and again, over and over, needing desperately for her to believe it. Because I did love her. More than my life, more than my job, and more than anything in the entire world. I needed her to believe that.

“I love you,” I whispered it in her ear.

“I love you,” I vowed it against her skin.

“I love you,” I promised it in my kiss.

“My Liz.”

TBC