by M. E. Carter
The one good thing about the scare was that it forced me to take a good, hard look at myself and how emotionally stagnant I’d become. It’s justifiable to feel anger and betrayal when one finds out their spouse has been unfaithful. But holding onto that anger for so long was a choice I made.
Now, I choose to let it go. I choose to not be angry anymore. Regardless, I was still scared to tell Santos.
Of course, he immediately put my fears to rest. Instead of telling me what a terrible mother I am or taking me to court and fighting for custody, he came up with a plan to make things better.
So here he is, replacing all our door handles with actual knobs, and baby-proofing them. He came over immediately after practice, still covered in grass and mud.
Still sweaty.
Still smelling like dirt and musk. And man.
I can’t help it when my eyes rake down his body, focusing on his hard calves; his thick, muscular thighs; his rock-hard ass…
“The landlord asked that I put all the handles back on whenever you move out,” he recounts. “The handles are actually ADA compliant and he’s just letting us do this because of the liability since Theo is able to get out.”
I quickly look away before he catches me ogling him. I can’t believe how much my body still responds to him. This is the curse of being amicable. Just because I don’t trust him doesn’t mean my body doesn’t still want him.
“So he’s not taking it out of the deposit?”
“Nope.” One more twist of a screwdriver and the front door is done. “There. The little bugger shouldn’t be able to break out now.”
“Thank you, Santos. I can’t even tell you how much better it makes me feel knowing he can’t get out again. That was just so… well… you know.”
“I do know.” He starts putting his tools away so he can work on the next door. “It was bad enough when you told me and it was over by then. But Mari, why didn’t you call me as soon as you realized he was gone? I would have dropped everything and been here.”
I lean back against the wall and look at the floor as the guilt runs through me again. “It wasn’t like that. It happened so fast. The neighbors didn’t even have time to call 9-1-1 before I found him.”
“Still, I wish I would have known. I just felt so… I don’t know, helpless. And like a terrible father.”
My head snaps up to look at him. “Why would you feel like that? I’m the one that didn’t realize he left the house. I thought for sure you’d say I was a terrible mother.”
“What? Mari, you’re the best mother I know.”
“Thanks.” I smile shyly at him. We stand there looking at each other momentarily.
“Um… so you want the bathrooms done next?”
“Oh, yeah.” I peek around the corner to check on the kids. The girls are happily stacking blocks so Theo can knock them over. It’s a game they often play for hours.
“They look happy.” I feel Santos’s body heat behind me. It makes my body miss him even more. “As much as I miss them, you’ve done great with them, Mari.”
I smile again but say nothing before he follows me down the hall. There’s not really anything to say.
As he pulls his tools out, I get the feeling he has more on his mind that he wants to talk about. But there’s no forcing the conversation. When Santos is ready, he’ll say whatever he wants to say. For now, I’m content to just watch him work.
“So, um,” he stammers, as he lines up the screws inside the door. “I started going to therapy.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“Really?” One of the things they told us at the Redesigning Your Marriage conference is to continue with therapy. Since we decided to divorce, I never followed through. I always assumed he didn’t either.
“Yeah.”
He’s almost got the knob on, but he won’t look at me. I suspect it’s too hard to see my face when he talks about this kind of thing. His grandmother was a great woman. But she was also very tight-lipped about family drama. Therapy would never be something she would have approved of.
“What made you decide to go back?”
“I decided that I want to be better.”
He slowly looks up at me, and I see remorse written all over his face. Not excuses. Not justifications. Genuine remorse.
“I don’t know why I made some of the choices I made. It’s hard to explain. Some of the stuff, I just kind of did it on autopilot. That’s not an excuse.”
“I know.” And I do. His entire demeanor is different as he talks about it this time.
“I just want to know why. I want to know how I could completely shut off my emotions like that. I need to know that I won’t do it again.”
“Santos,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m so glad you’re in therapy. But it doesn’t change anything. You know that, right?”
He winces, but quickly follows it with a nod. “I know. But I’m not doing it for you. Well, no that’s not right. There’s part of me that’s doing it for you and the kids. So someday you’ll be proud of me again. But mostly, I think, I’m doing it for me. I think this past year has been my rock bottom. I would rather be in therapy the rest of my life than ever feel this kind of pain and regret again.”
I don’t know what to say. Santos is full of life and energy and exuberance. But right now, he stands before me just humble. He’s not embarrassed or ashamed. Just honest and open. It actually confuses me a bit.
This is the man I fell in love with. The one who owned up to his shit, or so I thought, and strived to be a better person. The one who could see where he wanted to end up in his future and would grab it by the horns until he got it.
The man he evolved into wasn’t humble like this. It was such a gradual change, I never even noticed it until now.
A screech comes from the other room, breaking the moment, and Myra comes flying in.
“Mama,” she whines with tears in her eyes, “Theo keeps knocking over my building.”
I chuckle. “Baby, I thought you guys were playing a game.”
She sniffles. “We were. But then we didn’t want to anymore, we just wanted to make a castle and Theo keeps knocking it down.”
“He’s just a baby, honey. He doesn’t understand you want the castle to stay up.”
“Uh huh. But can you make him stop, Mama? Please?” She looks up at me, her eyes so much like her father’s.
“It’s almost time for lunch. Can you play with him a little bit longer while I make some peanut butter and jelly?”
We both look over as we hear tools being put away. “How about this?” Santos proposes. “How about I come help you build your castle and keep Theo away while your mom makes the sandwiches. Will that work?”
Myra nods excitedly. “Will you eat lunch with us, too, Daddy? Please?”
He looks up at me while addressing her. “That’s up to you mother.”
“Please, Mama! Please!” she pleads.
“Of course, baby. Daddy is more than welcome.”
“Yay!” She squeals as Santos swoops her up in his arms and sits her on his shoulders. I watch as they laugh and giggle down the hall, Santos having to duck whenever he goes through a doorway so Myra doesn’t bang her head.
For the first time in a long time, my heart feels full and my shoulders feel lighter. It feels good to see the possibility of a friendship again. Even if that’s all we ever have.
“Ooof!”
My body hits the ground hard as I try to stop the ball. I miss and immediately pop back up to my feet, ready to attempt another block.
I’m being peppered on all sides by balls during practice to keep my reflexes strong. It’s effective, but damn, if it doesn’t hurt after a while.
“Ooofffff!”
I miss the block as Daniel bends the ball, making it sail right past me.
“Shit!” I yell and pound the grass with my hand before popping right back up again.
“Get your head in the game, Santos!” Coach yells from across the field.
This time Rowen goes for the kick and the ball flies toward me. I know it’s going to curve as soon as it gets close to me, and it does exactly that. I launch my body across the field and the ball glides right past my fingers.
“Fuck!” I yell as I hit the ground.
“Time!” Coach yells. “Hit the showers, everyone. Santos, get your ass over here!”
I jog to his side and wait for the lecture.
“What’s going on?” he asks, as everyone around us packs up and heads for the locker room. “You’re missing easy shots. You need to see the trainer?”
“No sir. I’m fine.”
“Then what the fuck is wrong in your head?”
I look at the ground and put my hands on my hips. I don’t know how to answer him. “I’m trying to keep my head in the game, but it feels… I don’t know. Off, somehow.”
“Off?”
“Yeah.”
He takes a deep breath. “Look Santos, I know you’ve had a hard go of it for the last couple of months. And this may not be related to that at all. But if it is, you need to figure it out and figure it out quick.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods once. “Hit the showers. We have tapes to go over later.”
I nod again and follow his instructions.
The sounds of locker doors slamming, showers streaming, and grown men ribbing each other greet me as I walk into the locker room, stripping myself of my practice shirt and tossing it into the giant laundry cart. It smells like dirt and funk. It’s potent and it makes me frown. The older I get, the more the odor gets to me.
Practice is always grueling, but somehow, it’s changed. Maybe it’s because we acquired a new goalie this season as my back-up. He came to us from Florida, where he’s been for the past three years. It’s good. That means he has some experience and should something happen to me, it won’t be as hard of a transition to get him up to speed. A few years ago, I would have been annoyed that another seasoned goalie joined the team. I guess that means I’m maturing. Well, in my career anyway.
Unfortunately, having a seasoned player behind me also means practices are more difficult. A new back-up means I have to continue proving myself every single day. I can never get complacent. As a professional athlete, I shouldn’t anyway. But now, even more so.
“You ready to hit the road in a couple days, Rowen?” I ask, as I begin the tedious process of unwrapping all the athletic tape off my body. A little on my shins to help offset shin splits. A little around my fingers so I don’t jam them again. A little around that ankle that keeps trying to roll the wrong way. Getting old sucks.
Rowen sighs in response. “I don’t normally mind these long stretches. But Tiffany hasn’t been feeling well,” he explains quietly. “I don’t like leaving her behind.”
I stop unwrapping myself and look around, making sure no one else is listening. When I’m satisfied the information is going to stay between us, I turn to look at him. “Everything ok with the baby?”
He nods but the expression on his face doesn’t match it. “So far. We had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and she’s officially twelve weeks.” He smiles shyly as he says it.
“That’s great, man. You’re almost done with the first trimester.”
“I know, that’s why I’m worried.” He uses a little too much force to toss his own tape into the trash and rests his hands on his knees. “All that morning sickness is supposed to go away by ten or twelve weeks, but it seems to be getting worse. We asked about it today and the doctor said some women never get over it.”
“Seriously?”
“It doesn’t happen often, but of course it happens to my wife. And of course there’s nothing I can do about it. And of course the doctor mentioned watching for dehydration since she throws up a thousand times a day, so now I feel like I’m constantly making her drink water, which just makes her throw up again.”
“I’m sorry, man. That fucking sucks.”
“I don’t know how you went through this three times.”
I chuckle. “It’s different every time. I remember the first time, Mari felt great. She would exercise every day and had lots of energy. With Lina, it was the exact opposite. She was tired and felt horrible.”
“Lots of morning sickness?”
“None, actually. She said she just felt gross for nine straight months. Like when you just have a small fever, not enough to knock you on your ass, but enough for it to make everyday activities miserable. She said that’s what it felt like.”
“What about the last time.”
I laugh at the memory of how big Mari got the last time. “She was huge. I mean, you saw her that one time at Daniel’s party.”
He sniggers. “She was pretty big.”
“She still had a couple months to go then. And the closer she got, ohmygod, she turned into a raging lunatic.”
“Wait… Mari? Your wife, uh… ex-wife Mari was a lunatic?”
I ignore him accidentally calling her my wife and the stab of pain it leaves in my gut. “Yep. My Mari. The sweetest, kindest, most wonderful woman I’ve ever known in my life cussed like a sailor and had terrible road rage.”
Rowen barks a laugh. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it. The girls were the only people she was nice to. Everyone else could suck it. She made the grocery store cashier cry at one point for putting dishwasher detergent in the same bag as the bread. It was insane. And then one day, a couple months after Theo was born, it was like the switch was flipped and she was back to my sweet wife.”
I smile at the memory.
“That pregnancy was really rough. But it was totally worth it.”
“Is it weird that I can already hardly wait for him to be born?”
“Him?” I ask. “You already know?”
He nods and a blush creeps up his face like it does whenever he feels a strong emotion, whether it be anger or excitement or whatever else. “She had a blood test a couple of weeks ago for some other things and they could tell that way.”
“So you’re having a son?” My smile widens as he nods. “Congratulations, man.” I slap him on the back as he blushes even more. “That’s great news.”
“What’s great news?” Daniel asks, throwing his cleats in his locker with a bang.
“Oh, uh, my parents have decided to find a place down here,” Rowen retorts quickly, stripping off the rest of his clothes and wrapping a towel around his waist. “I can’t wait for her to cook for me on a regular basis. I love Tiffany, but good god that woman can’t cook for shit.”
Daniel laughs. “Yeah, there’s nothing like your mama’s home cooking.”
They banter back and forth about their favorite home-cooked meals and what they need to do to convince their mothers to cook as soon as we get home from our trip.
But as I step into the shower, my thoughts are still on Mari and how beautiful she was every time she was pregnant. Seeing her belly grow as my child was inside her body… it felt like my love for her grew right along with the kids.
A pang of regret hits me as I remember what I’ve lost. Therapy has been going well with helping me come to terms with my own actions. And it’s helping me recognize my own patterns. The problem is my patterns typically revolve around my job.
Go to a game. Go to a party. Have sex. Sleep. Repeat.
I think back to the last month as I lather up. I’ve been out of my routine because I just haven’t had the emotional energy to be around people. And if I’m honest with myself, I knew going to parties would hurt Mari, whether she knew about them or not.
But I can feel the buzz of my body wanting that release of adrenaline and it scares me. Justin’s alcoholic analogy crosses my mind again and I realize how right he is. I’m not a sex addict, but I certainly binge on women when I’m in the right situation. O
r maybe more accurately, when I’m in the wrong situation.
Clarity hits me as I rinse the soap off my body. If I want to drastically change my behavior, I have to drastically change my patterns. In order to drastically change my patterns, I need to drastically change my routine.
Apparently, I took a longer shower than I realized, judging by how the locker room is starting to thin out. I look around, rub my chin, and realize this isn’t fun anymore. The odor. The aches and pains. My excitement over a new back-up.
I’m not so sure this is worth it anymore. For my kids. For my Mari. For myself.
I quickly get dressed and head out, and before I can change my mind, I knock on the door.
“Come in,” the familiar voice calls. I take a deep breath and twist the door knob. Here goes the rest of my life.
The kids are down for a nap and I have a chance to sit for the first time in hours. The older they get, the more active they are. Especially Lina. Not for the first time, I wish we had a back yard and a swing set for the kids. They’ve been begging to go to the park all day, but no way. They would probably be fine if I just bundled them up, but I would never get over the chill.
Victoria, my friend from the marriage conference, crosses my mind. I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks.
Picking up my phone, I dial her number and wait.
“Hello?” she answers, interrupting the third ring.
“Hey, Victoria. It’s Mariana.”
“Hey girl!” She sounds excited to hear from me, making me smile. Sometimes I forget how little adult interaction I get. It helps having Marcus live next door, but he has a job and a life, too. “How’s it going in your neck of the woods?”
“Surprisingly, not terrible. How’s it going over there?” I settle back into the couch, putting my feet on the coffee table.
“Eh. It’s fine. It could be better. I think Drew might be leaving me.”
“What? Why would you think that?” Of all the things she could have said, that was not what I expected.
“Because he said he might.” She sighs into the phone. “I think he’s still really struggling with his spending habits, and he’s about to fall off the wagon.”