by Kate Stacy
I still don’t know where he went when he left that night. He didn’t offer the information. I didn’t ask. I probably should have, but it wasn’t important at the time. He came home a couple hours later, hesitated at the bedroom door, and eventually went to sleep on the couch.
I listened to him. To the apologies. Searched for signs of dishonesty. I wanted to believe his words. Wanted to believe the sincerity of his apologies. So many apologies.
Finally, I started to accept that he wasn’t in control of himself. Still, I offered no forgiveness. Not at first.
Eventually, I told him that we would work through it. I had no plans to leave him. Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m just plain stupid. But people make mistakes. They deserve second chances. I chose to give him one.
Pain is a part of life. Everyone deals with it in some way, at some time in their life. God knows, I’ve dealt with my fair share of it already in my twenty-one years.
But feeling the sting of my husband’s hand across my face? I never expected that type of pain. I never would have thought it possible. So, for now...I’ve forgiven him. But it’s not something I will ever forget.
We’re trying to move on.
I’m waiting for David to get home from work, curled up under a thick blanket on the couch. He should have been home hours ago, but he’s late.
I was late, too.
Not in the sense of punctuality, no. My period was late by almost a week. Bitch made an appearance today, though, and I feel like shit. I came home from work and wanted to spend the evening cuddled up to my husband, but I don't know where he is. Not here, obviously. Not answering his phone. Not returning my calls.
Things have been good for the past few weeks since the incident. I’ve taken to calling it that since I accepted his apology. Like I said, we’re trying to move on. We’ve had dinner together almost every night. Spent time together when we’re both not working. It’s been really, really good.
So, I’m worried. It’s not like him to be late without letting me know ahead of time. What if something happened to him? Should I try calling the restaurant? Should I wait? I don’t know what to do.
I’m stressing myself out. Between the worry, hormones, and the frustration and sadness I feel about getting my period...I’m driving myself insane.
I’m a bit upset that I started. I want a baby. My miscarriage devastated me, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to be a mother. I’ve always wanted a big family, like mine. My cycle is usually like clockwork, so being late was unusual, and a really big deal. I’m on the pill, but smart enough to know that no form of birth control is one-hundred percent effective.
For a little while...I felt that spark of hope.
And maybe...maybe now isn’t the right time, not so soon after seeing a different, horrible side to my husband. But I couldn’t help but hope.
That hope vanished with the first sign of blood and cramps.
And now...now I’m upset, sad, depressed. I’m hurting and hormonal. Not being pregnant—when I wanted it so badly—brought back all those feelings of loss from my first pregnancy. I want love and comfort. I want my husband, but he’s still not here.
I reach for my phone and pull up his number from my recent calls. My thumb hovers over the “call” icon for a few seconds as I hesitate to call him again.
I may have forgiven, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a bit wary of his anger. I can’t forget the fear. The uncertainty of what would happen next.
Tapping the screen, I decide to take my chances.
It only rings once before I realize I can hear his ringtone nearby. I sit up quickly and turn my head, ending the call as he’s opening the front door.
“You’re home,” I say, stating the obvious. “I was really starting to worry something bad happened to you.”
“That’s why you called so many times?”
I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t answer. He hangs his keys on the hook by the door before he comes over, leaning over the back of the couch.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Work was busy, two of my brigade called in sick, and my sous chef had to leave for a family emergency. It was hectic and there wasn’t time to call.”
I lean my head back to look up at him. “Oh no, I hope everything is alright.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he says, but his gaze doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Good. I’m sorry you had such a busy night. You should relax. Come cuddle with me? I got my period and I feel awful.”
He pulls away from me, standing up straight. “Sure. Let me go shower first. We’ll order in dinner. Decide what you want, and I’ll order when I get out.”
With that, he hurries from the room.
Blackwood doesn’t have much in the way of food delivery, so my options are slim. Chinese food, pizza, or subs. Chinese is the only real choice, especially since it’s my go-to comfort food.
While I wait for David to finish in the shower, I scroll through my social media. I check my personal page, then go to the page for The Sweet Spot Bakeshop. Since I’ve been back, Grams has more or less put me in charge, so I convinced her that we should really get on social media. It’s been good for business. By the time I’ve checked the messages and answered a few questions, David comes strolling back into the living room.
“Chinese, please.”
Without responding, he calls and places the order. He knows all of my favorites, so telling him what I want isn’t necessary.
It’ll be about thirty minutes, so he snuggles up with me while we wait. He provides some sweet relief from my cramps by rubbing my hips and lower back. We talk about work, him complaining about the lack of experience people seem to have, and me sharing the latest ideas and recipes for the bakery.
I dig right in when the food arrives, not realizing how hungry I was until the delicious scent of Bourbon Chicken filled the room.
There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to David about. Deciding that now is as good a time as any, I broach the topic of family with my husband.
“Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?” He asks, using a set of chopsticks to eat another bite of his lo mein. I’ve yet to master chopsticks. I can decorate a cake like nobody’s business but put a pair of chopsticks in my hand and I’m a fumbling disaster.
“It was probably just stress, but my period was almost a week late.”
His face pales. He swallows hard, turning to face me.
“You’ve been taking your birth control, right?”
I nod and finish chewing. “Yeah, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
His brow arches.
“I think I should stop taking my birth control.”
“Mada—”
“Because I know that we only just got married, but I want a family. I’ve always wanted to have a family and I want to have babies while I’m still young and have the energy to keep up with them. It could take months, or longer, to get pregnant if I stop taking the pill.” I’m rambling. I’m nervous because the look on his face right now is not what I was hoping to see. I don’t stop talking. “Family is important to me. I know you don’t have any, but we can have our own. I just think th—”
“Madalyn, stop.”
My head jerks back, mouth open and eyes wide at the hardness in his tone. Completely unexpected. I wait to listen to what he has to say.
“No.”
No? What does he mean?
“No...no what?” I ask, albeit a bit slowly, because I’m not sure what to think about his reaction.
“No. Everything you just said. No.”
“You’re not ready to start a family? I mean...I know we never really talked about it, and obviously we should have, but…”
“I’m not ready to start a family. I will never be ready to start a family. I don’t want a family. No children, Madalyn.”
He can’t be serious.
Excuse me while I pick my jaw up from th
e floor.
“N-never?” I stutter. Surely, he doesn’t mean it.
“I don’t want children. Ever.”
“But why? This is kind of a big deal, David.”
“It doesn’t matter why. And you’re right. It is a big deal. It’s important to me that you continue to take your birth control. We cannot have a baby. No accidents or slip ups.” His serious glare bores into me.
What. The. Hell.
“I have no say in this? You just get to decide? We’ve been together for almost two years, David. We’re married. And never once have you ever said you don’t want children. You knew I wanted a family. What about what I want?”
The pitch of my voice rises with every question. Does he really expect me to just forget about ever having a baby? About being a mother?
Something sinister flashes in his dark eyes.
“It’s not up for negotiations, Madalyn. The world does not revolve around you. It’s not always about what you want. I. Will. Not. Father. Any. Children.” Anger punctuates every word he speaks. “In fact, I would be extremely unhappy if you were to get pregnant.”
His face is emotionless. His stare hard and cold.
“You will continue to take your pills regularly. Don’t test me on this. You won’t like what happens if you do.”
He slams his plate on the table and leaves the room.
That was a threat. Did he seriously just threaten me?
Wow. I’m left utterly shocked, and speechless. Not only did my husband just steamroll over me, he completely disregarded my wants. Totally shut me down. Declared...no, demanded it his way and gave me no reasoning whatsoever.
A shiver leaves my body trembling and cold as I replay his words in my head.
“You won’t like what happens if you do.”
I’m not sure what to make of that, but it leaves me with a feeling of dread.
What would he do? Leave me? Worse?
I close my eyes tightly, trying to block out the memories. The sounds and images of him backhanding me across my face. He wouldn’t do it again, would he?
He’s already hit you once, Mads. Remember that.
Another shiver travels down my spine.
Blackwood in the fall, it’s my favorite time of the year.
I love this little, nowhere town. I’ve never had a desire to leave, Not for college, not for an escape, not for anything. I’m proud to live and grow in the small town founded by my family many generations ago.
Nearing the end of September, the leaves are changing colors and the air is cooler, crisper. Businesses start selling pumpkin spice flavored everything and I secretly love that shit. Tell anyone, though, and I’ll deny it until my last breath.
Another place I love? The Sweet Spot Bakeshop. It’s owned by Grams, Madalyn’s grandmother. When Mads left Blackwood, I visited the bakery daily. I had to work harder, and work out more often, to burn off all the sugary treats I consumed, but it wasn’t important. While she was off on her own—moving on and forgetting about me—I was there, remembering her and everything we had together. I wanted to feel close to her. The bakery was all I had.
I haven’t been there since Madalyn came back to town because I know she’s working there. She’s worked there since we were teenagers and I know that Grams wants her to take over one day, so she must be working there now.
As I walk through town, I’m drawn to the bakery by the overpowering scent of muffins. Pumpkin spice muffins. I’d know that smell anywhere. As I get closer to the bakery, I hesitate. I don’t really want to see Madalyn. The hurt is still fresh, so I’ve avoided places where I know she might be seen. In this town, I know I can’t avoid her forever, so I let my stomach lead me through the door.
Looks like business is good. There’s not a big line, but the tables are all full of happy customers. I wait in line, happy to see that it’s not Madalyn behind the counter, but Grams herself.
When it’s my turn, she looks up from the register and I swear her eyes brighten.
With a big smile, she greets me. “Jaxson! It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long since you’ve been by to see me.”
I try to smile, but my head lowers a bit and my cheeks redden. “Sorry about that, Grams. Things have been…”
I trail off, not really knowing what to say. She knows why I haven’t been to the bakery. She knows about everything. Despite her being Madalyn’s grandmother, she’s always treated me like part of the family. That didn’t change when Mads left. Grams and I have had many heart-to-heart conversations the last couple of years.
The understanding shows in her eyes.
Yeah, she knows. She gets it.
“No worries, dear.” She winks, letting me off the hook.
Smiling, I tip my head in thanks and we move on. That’s just Grams. Sweet as the treats she serves up daily.
“Since you’re here now, let’s get you fed.” She leans over the counter a bit, crooking her finger until I lean in, and she whispers, “Want one of those pumpkin spice muffins you enjoy so much? I know that’s what finally got you in here, boy. Never could resist.”
She stands up straight, shit-eating grin on her face.
Did I just say she was sweet?
“Don’t tease me, Grams.” I fake a pout but lose when the corner of my mouth tips up. Chuckling, I give her an honest answer. “Yes, please. I would love one of those muffins.”
As she packages up two big pumpkin spice muffins, she throws me another wink. “Your secret is safe with me, Jaxson.”
I can’t control the laugh that rumbles out.
“Cheeky woman.” I tease.
She passes me the bag with a grin, and I put my hands on the counter to lean over so I can plant a big kiss on her cheek.
“Thank you, Grams. You’re the best!”
She pats the side of my face as I pull away. “Enjoy your treat, dear. Come back and see me soon, yeah?”
I’m about to respond when the door to the kitchen opens.
Madalyn walks out, arms loaded down with a tray piled with baked goods. Her eyes dart to the counter and she flinches when she sees me standing there. She turns to stock the displays, not a word to me or Grams.
I stand there, frozen in place as I watch her work.
Deciding that I’ve got nothing to lose, I decide to say hello.
“Hey, Mads.”
She barely spares me a glance before she turns on her heel and pushes back through the door.
Damn. It’s like that?
Shaking off her obvious dismissal, I turn back to Grams. I need to get out of here and I won’t be rude to her. None of this is her fault. She silently watched our exchange and I can see the frustration and sadness that she’s trying to mask with a smile. She always loved Mads and I together.
Pretending the last few minutes didn’t happen, and thankful no one came in behind me to wait while I came face-to-face with my past again, I answer the question.
“Yeah, Grams. I’ll be back to see you soon.”
And I will. Madalyn has done enough. I won’t let her take one of my favorite places from me, too. If I run into her here, I’ll just have to suck it up. Grin and bear it.
“I love you, Jaxson.”
My heart warms at her words. I’m glad she doesn’t let her granddaughter affect the close relationship we have.
“I love you too, Grams. Thank you again.”
She knows I’m thanking her for so much more than the muffins. She knows how hard things have been for me.
I turn to leave the bakery but remember that in my distraction I never paid for my muffins.
“Oh! Almost forgot…” I slide a bill from my pocket and slide it over the counter.
Grams looks down at the money, then back up at me with a raised brow.
“Take that and get out of my bakery.”
Chuckling, I slip the money back into my pocket and head for the door. I know better than to argue. I’ll just drop some extra cash in the tip jar next time. She’ll never know.
“Bye, Grams.”
Seeing Grams had me thinking about my family. My little sister, Henley.
Not that I really have any family since my life fell apart. I hate to say it, but I can live without my parents. Not my little sister though. I miss her something fierce.
I haven’t talked to or seen Henley in two years. Not by choice. No, the choice was taken away from me like so many others.
I’ve been disowned. Shunned. Shut out. However you want to phrase it.
My calls go unanswered. I’m ignored or asked to leave when I try to visit. I’ve seen my sadness mirrored in her eyes through the front window on the rare occasion I manage to catch a glimpse of her.
Henley hates this as much as I do, but until November, she’s a minor. There’s nothing we can do unless my parents decide to change their minds. It hasn’t stopped me from trying to see her. I’ll never give up on my sister.
Sitting in the office at work, I take a chance and call my parents’ house.
Much to my surprise, my mother actually answers the phone.
“Hello, Jaxson.”
I refuse to greet her. Maybe that makes me a bitter asshole, but she doesn’t deserve anything from me.
“Can I please talk to Henley?”
“I’m doing well, Jaxson. How kind of you to ask.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “You may not speak to Henley. I would prefer if you would stop calling.”
I roll my eyes at her initial response, then get angry with the rest.
“I’m not going to stop calling. Not until you let me talk to her.”
“I would have been happy to let you talk to her, but you made your choice. You refused to see reason and now you have to live with the consequences.”
My body vibrates with anger.
I expected this type of response but knowing that it’s coming and actually hearing it are two different things. This woman gave birth to me and she acts like I’m nothing but dirt under her fancy shoes.
All because she didn’t get her way.