by TC Matson
This night was different, though. Normally, we did it the same ol’ ways—him on top or me on top. That night, he told me he wanted to try new things with me and damn if he didn’t. Doggie style started off unpleasantly and it hurt like hell, but it soon changed and I was all but crawling the walls, screaming his name. Brian took matters in his own hands, flipping me around, and moving me where I needed to be—after all, he was the one with experience, not me. I tried so many new positions and did so many new things.
I don’t specifically remember how many times we had sex that night, but I still very clearly remember the sheer panic on his face after he found out the condom had broken.
You sometimes hear about people getting lucky—having accidents during sex without consequence. It’s like Mother Nature gifts them with a “Get Out of Jail Free” card because they endure so much fear. Typically, they learn their lessons and do everything to ensure it doesn’t happen again. I’d like to tell you we were that couple, but life decided to throw us a curveball. For us, it only took one mistake and I was staring at two pink lines.
My parents lost their minds. Mom deemed me a whore and Dad saw me as the biggest disappointment he’d ever faced in his life. “We didn’t raise you like this,” Dad yelled at me. Mom tried talking me into an abortion or giving it up for adoption, but when I disagreed with her, Dad stepped in and tried forbidding me to see Brian again. I actually laughed. What further damage could come from seeing him? I loved Brian and no one was going to keep us apart, especially not now that I was pregnant.
I was kicked out and disowned. Shocked was an understatement. I never in my life thought my parents were capable of it. I was their daughter. I thought I had supportive parents. I learned they were only supportive if I abided one hundred percent to their rules. I’d held a part-time job since two months after my sixteenth birthday, worked hard for straight A’s, but it wasn’t enough when their daughter made a mistake. In Dad’s eyes, this mistake was unforgivable.
Even though Brian’s parents were highly pissed, they allowed me to stay with them until I could figure out what I was going to do. I know in the backs of their minds, my parents were going to calm down and let me come back home—no such luck.
After about two-weeks of staying with them, enduring the quick snide remarks and ugly eyes, Brian had finally had enough with all the weirdness and rented a little house just outside of town. By then, he was working full time for his dad and making really good money.
Our little house was perfect. We decorated it, fixed up the nursery, bought everything we needed, and when it was done, we sat back looking proudly at our little accomplishment. But I found out he did things much differently than I did. He used the bathroom with the door opened, had to have showers every night and every morning, tossed his clothes on the floor beside the hamper, drank out of the milk jug, and always put his dirty dishes on the counter. It took us a little bit to get through the bumps, but I learned to fight the right battles and not press the little ones.
One night I brought up marriage in general since we had never talked about it. And although we were young, I knew I wanted to marry him. This was when he shared that he didn’t believe in marriage. My heart broke a little. He must’ve seen the confusion and hurt in my eyes because he wrapped his pinky around mine and stated his version of vows. There wasn’t a ring. No paperwork to prove it. No excited friends or family. Nothing. But he was my husband and I was his wife.
Several months later, my water broke in the middle of the night and after ten hours of labor, they finally rested Lucas in my arms, squishy and crying. Brian was ecstatic, beaming from ear to ear and although tired, I was just as elated. I finally got to kiss the forehead of the little guy who enjoyed kicking my ribs. He was perfect and I was in love.
After Lucas was born, Brian began working more and more because he wanted me to stay at home with the baby. Brian bought us our first house—the one we still live in today—when Lucas turned one. Many glorious memories have been made here. And here is where I’ve watched the Brian I fell in love with change.
“Did you hear me?” Lucas says loudly.
I jerk, twisting around to him and spilling my coffee on the counter.
“You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” Lucas gives me a small smirk.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t.”
“Where do you go when you zone out?” he asks. “I go to the soccer fields, or college or sometimes driving…” he trails off resting his head on the palm of his hand.
I smile at him. “I go everywhere.”
Chapter 2
Brian strolls through the door just after I put my finishing touches on dinner. It’s almost dark. So much for early…
He kisses my cheek out of the force of habit. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready for dinner.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before walking off. It’s not much later, I hear the water rushing through the pipes.
I grab all the plates and tell Lucas to go wash his hands while I get supper ready. Since I was young, it’s been instilled in my mind that the woman always scoops up the first plates for her family, and it’s a tradition I still follow to this day.
I’m setting Lucas’ plate in front of him when Brian steps back into the kitchen with his black hair wet and messy. Water droplets are speckling through the gray fabric of his shirt, causing black dots to emerge randomly. He grabs a beer from the fridge and takes a seat at the end of the table.
“How was your day?” I ask, trying to kill the silence at the table.
Brian’s eyes brighten and he looks to Lucas. “The biggest backhoe I’ve ever seen helped out today.”
“No way! Did you take picture?” Lucas beams.
“I did. I’ll show them to you later.”
Lucas scoots his chair back and plops his foot at the edge of the table. “Check out my new shoes.”
Before I can scold him for having his foot on the table, he drops it and slides back up to the table.
“They’re pretty cool. I like them,” Brian tells him.
“You’re coming to open house with us, right?” Lucas asks with hope.
I catch the split second pause from Brian. “It’s tomorrow, right?”
Lucas nods. “MmHmm.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I thought it was a different day.”
Inside, I cringe. I hate when he lies. I’ve reminded him since last week and even dropped another bug in his ear last night.
Brian has never cared to be involved in Lucas’ schooling. He says it’s my job to keep up with it. For someone who used to thrive on perfect grades, you’d think he’d ingrain that in Lucas. But, no. It’s my job and he shouldn’t have to worry about it. I’m not sure what changed him—if it’s the stress of bills or him being our only bread winner. Quite frankly, we’re not hurting for money. He’s done a damn good job building a comfortable foundation for us, but if me getting a job will relieve some of the stress and keeps him from working all the time, I’m willing to do it. Unfortunately, if I bring it up, he gets irate.
After dinner, Lucas impatiently helps me stack the dishwasher and then runs off to check out the pictures Brian took of the backhoe. Lucas is enthralled with heavy equipment, has been since he was four or five. Brian became his hero when one day he snuck Lucas onto a backhoe and let him operate it for a few minutes. You couldn’t wash the smile from his face that day.
Taking advantage of the fact Brian is on the couch instead of the recliner, I send Lucas off for a shower and then settle into Brian’s side.
“I missed you,” I tell him softly.
“You saw me this morning.”
I shake my head. “I still missed you.”
He smiles and then kisses my forehead. “Missed you too.” That has no emotion behind it.
I run my hand up his chest. “Is there any way you can make it to his open house. It’s fifth grade. Last year of elementary.”
“I can try, but don�
�t get your hopes up.”
I drop my view to my hand, frowning.
“Last year of elementary? Didn’t he just start kindergarten?” He chuckles. “He’s growing up too fast.”
“You’re missing a lot of it,” I tell him honestly.
His eyes turn chilly. “Because I have obligations at work. Besides, you want things, I want things…”
“I just want you and Lucas,” I say.
“It’ll get better,” he gruffs.
I sigh and push off him. “You’ve said that for years.”
“And I’ve meant it every time.” He pulls me back into him and kisses my lips softly. “One day it’ll happen. Right now, I have to prove to Dad I can run the business when the time comes.”
“Don’t you think he already knows this? You’ve worked your ass off for years. Shouldn’t he by now already know you can take care of things?”
Gently, he squeezes my chin. “I love how you have so much confidence in me.”
“I know what you’re capable of. I’m sure your dad does too. Maybe take a few days off and spend some time with us? He starts school soon.”
“I can’t right now. This project is important, but after it’s done, we’ll plan a trip. Sound good?”
Heard all this before.
I pull my lips tight and act like I’ve not. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Lucas comes bebopping in. “Can I stay up and play Xbox?”
Brian looks to his watch. “One hour. At nine thirty, it’s bed time.”
We taught Lucas at a young age if he complains or huffs, he’ll lose the very thing he’s asking for. Generally, he adheres to it without objections.
As Lucas heads to his bedroom, Brian leaves me on the couch and finds his way to the recliner to watch his favorite house flipping show. This is our “normal.” I often joke about how we resemble a couple very late in age, but Brian is always quick to reply how good we’ll look doing it after years of experience. Is this what the end of my days will look like? Distant husband ignoring me while I read on my e-reader?
It’s nine thirty and Lucas returns to tell us good night. I sigh a little heartbroken. He’s right on the cusp of not being affectionate with us. Most morning hugs are still okay, but not the bedtimes ones. Those have changed to unaffectionate knuckle bumps, destroying the loving mom inside of me bit by bit. And even though kisses are out of the question, I’m still able to get away with kissing him on top of the head. He doesn’t seem to pay those any attention. Tucking him in isn’t “cool” either, and when I try telling him no one will know, he promptly reminds me that he knows.
My little boy growing up breaks my heart…
Not long after he shuffles off to bed, I announce my bedtime and make my way to the bedroom, cutting off all the lights and locking the doors behind me. I change, brush my teeth, and wash my face before stepping out of the bathroom to see Brian has made himself comfortable lying on top of the covers in just his boxers and watching the television.
I bite my lip with wicked intentions. Slowly, I crawl up his body, dragging my hands over every inch of bare skin, trailing my tongue across his waist line and across his nipples up to his neck.
“You’re so sexy.” He grips my hips and pulls me into his erection.
Straddling him, I rock against him, splaying my hands over his chest. Quickly, he twists me to my back and presses himself between my legs. He kisses me hard, running his hands up my ribs and kneading an aching breast under his palm. I sigh quietly as he drags his lips down my jaw and nibbles on my neck while pushing his hand below my shorts. The moment his fingers make contact with my clit, I arch into his hand.
“You’re always so wet for me.” He nips my nipple through the fabric of my shirt.
He pulls me up and takes off my shirt and then pushes me back on the bed to do away with my shorts. His hands creep up my legs, gently massaging, and when he takes my clit into his mouth, gripping my hips, I buck and thrust into his face.
He inserts his fingers and I rock into them, moaning. Heat overcomes my body as he laps and flicks my clit, shoving deeper into me. I’m on the cusp of coming, my body about to explode when he stops with a menacing chuckle, raking his hand along my body and then shimmies out of his boxers.
Only the tip of his dick is pressed against my entrance. “You’re already throbbing.” He exhales and then advances the rest of the way in.
It takes my breath as he pumps into me, rocking his body against mine. Threading his fingers with mine, he places my hands beside my face and continues to drive into me. My hips push and pull with him and my orgasm centers itself to explode.
“Tell me,” he says huskily. “Tell me, Riley.”
His pace picks up and he begins burying himself deeper.
“Tell me,” he growls, squeezing my hands harder.
His eyes are wild, dilated from arousal. He sucks in a breath with each plunge.
Tension flows down each limb, fluttering heat along with it and my orgasm springs to life. “I’m coming.” I finally release the words he’s been waiting for.
It floods me with scorching heat that spreads from my stomach out to my fingertips causing my eyes to roll as I shake uncontrollably from the wild waves crashing into me. Fiercely, I grip onto his hands.
“Yes, baby,” he groans. “Yes. Yes, baby. Fuck, Riley.” He loses his rhythm barreling into his own release.
He juts his hips, pushing himself further and groaning toward the ceiling.
It doesn’t take long for him to slow, his movements becoming still when he drops to his elbow with his mouth to my ear. “I love how you look when you’re unraveling.”
I can’t respond. I’m still clinging to the side of the cliff I just fell off from.
He slides back into his boxers and drops to his back throwing his arm over his eyes. “Such a damn perfect way to blow off steam.” His tone drips with a dismissive satisfaction like I was just some random hookup he needed to get through the night.
I jerk my head toward him a little revolted at the lack of passion. “That was to just blow off steam?”
“I had a rough day,” he says unconcerned with my reaction.
“And here I was thinking you wanted me,” I say through the sting of his words. “Do you ever want me just to want me?” I ask as my throat tightens, fighting back the hurt.
“Of course,” he sighs.
“When?”
He turns his head, removing his arm off his eyes. “All the time.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. I’m always initiating it or like right now, you’re making it sound like I was used.”
“If I didn’t want you, you wouldn’t get any.” Attitude drips from his lips. “I could’ve turned you down.”
I push up to my elbow. “Seriously?” I ask, surprise lacing my hurt.
A shithead grin slides across his shithead lips. “Yeah.”
I gasp at the sting of his words and scramble out of the bed. “What happened to the Brian I fell in love with?”
“Oh my God. This again? I shouldn’t have touched you.”
I slam my legs in my shorts and rock back on my heel. “If it’s a fucking struggle to be with me, why are you here?” I throw up a finger interrupting his words. “You used to love me indescribably. You used to look at me with loving eyes, spoke with loving words. I was your everything. Now, I’m only needed for sex when you’ve had a rough day. I don’t get your loving touches and words anymore unless it benefits you. I don’t know what the hell has changed, but it sucks. And more importantly, it fucking hurts.”
I glare at him as I snatch my pillow off the bed and then rush out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me despite how badly I want to slam it and knock everything from the wall. I don’t expect him to chase me down and apologize. He’ll never do that. It’s not in his blood and hasn’t been for several years. Besides, I don’t want him to. Lately, he lacks compassion and his words will only hurt my feelings.
I have no clue what
happened four years ago, but whatever it was changed him completely. I’m convinced he cheated on me and is living with his guilt, allowing it to erode his soul. Over the years and with little results, I’ve tried talking to him and explaining the subtle changes, but he doesn’t see just how horribly he’s changed. I’ve been told numerous times everything is my fault. I’m the one who has changed the most, but he can’t give me any good examples.
I toss my pillow on the couch and flop down, wrapping the blanket around me. Sounds of my heart thundering block out the silence and I nuzzle harder into the pillow. I ache from the pains of our ghostly love. I’ve learned to live in a one-sided relationship and it’s sad.
Chapter 3
This morning, no words are spoken. Even after I make his coffee, I don’t get a kiss, a thank you, an I love you, or a goodbye. He never looks at me to see my heart shattering as I watch him leave. I want so badly to chase after him and tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t find a good reason to apologize, so my feet remain cemented to the floor beneath them.
I know he loves me, but I wish I knew what the problem was so we could fix it. If he’d only talk to me, we’d find a way. Instead, we’re stuck at a painful intersection.
The school is bustling with moving bodies. Parents and children, teachers and helpers all litter the hallways. Even though the school learns from the previous years and implements new methods, this place is downright chaotic. Unsupervised children run the halls along with impatient parents who know where to go and are plowing through the new, uncertain families.
The gym has several designated areas with large signs directing our path. Lucas and I have already gotten his bus information, paid for the gym clothes, and now we’re waiting, stuck in a long line to receive his class information.