My Two Husbands

by Yari Martinez

  “No one’s saying she can’t miss Kaylee, Sandra. What we’re trying to avoid is her going into a darker place. We might not be able to get her out of there.”

  “If you keep forcing her to talk, you’re going to regret it. Brook isn’t a woman of many words. She’ll talk when the time is right. For now, drop the issue. You say you love her and will be here to help her. I’m just asking you to understand her pain and let her embrace it, because if she doesn’t, we will never get her back.”

  I hear my mother climb the stairs, and I press the pillow down on my head—I don’t care to hear anything else. I hear a soft knock at the door. “May I come in baby?” asks my mother.

  I stay quiet, but she opens the door and walks in. She removes the pillow from over my head and sits down beside me. “Elizabeth is with Nicolas. She’s ready for bed. I’ll be back early tomorrow to help you with her, okay?” she says rubbing my hair.

  “Thanks mom,” I say, genuinely grateful to have her here.

  “I’m sorry for how therapy went today. Don’t think about it too much and don’t give a moment’s thought to Hunter, you hear me?”

  “Don’t worry mom, I won’t. I just need to be alone for a little bit. I love you,” I say, sitting up and kissing her goodbye.

  She kisses me on my forehead, hugs me and gets up from the bed. Without any further words, she is gone.

  God, it is unfair you have allowed me to bury my daughter. And now you are forcing my mother to watch me suffer, I think. What have we done to deserve this?

  Hours must have passed, because the house has that weird silent feeling when the world is asleep. I should use this opportunity to jump into the shower.

  As I make my way downstairs to get something to drink before I shower, I see Nicolas sitting on the couch. Despite the dark, I can see he is awake.

  “Do you mind if we talk? Please,” he asks.

  It’s painful to hear the desperation in his voice.

  “Sure,” I say, settling down on the other sofa.

  He is about to get up, but I say “Please leave the light off.” It’s bad enough to have to talk. I don’t need to see his face while doing it.

  He sits back down, taking a deep breath. I hope he has had enough of this and is planning to back out.

  “I have been doing a lot of thinking,” he begins, “and I have to admit I feel helpless. I don’t know what’s the right thing to do anymore. What I do know is I want you to be okay and I want the best for Elizabeth. Your mother said something to me that I hadn’t taken into consideration, which is that you need time to heal and time to hurt. Because I love you, I didn’t consider any of that and was looking for ways to keep you from hurting when maybe what you need is a moment to mourn. I emailed the therapist and informed her we’ll be taking some time away from the sessions. When we feel ready, we’ll let her know.” He takes a long pause.

  I imagine he wants me to say something, so I say, “Thank you for that. I honestly don’t care to go to the therapist anymore. I feel it’s been making me feel worse than I feel already, and I don’t have it in me to talk about everything that crosses my mind.”

  “Do you want to continue with the support group or do you want to stop everything all together?” he asks concerned.

  “I don’t care to go to the support group either. If that’s okay with you,” I say, knowing I am not going, regardless of what he says.

  “That’s fine, but can I ask what can I do to help?”

  “Let me be sad. Please, I need to be sad, but I don’t know for how long.”

  The silence is uncomfortable, but I don’t have anything else to say. So I wait for him.

  “I’ll let you be sad, but don’t forget I am here or that Elizabeth is here,” he finally says, giving up.

  “You don’t have to stay here with me. I know this is a lot to handle, and I can’t imagine the toll it’s taking on you to deal with me and with everything that’s going on. It’s okay to admit we took on more than we can handle,” I say, hoping he opens his eyes to the fact that it’s best for him to just leave me.

  He gets up and takes a seat beside to me in the dark. He smells wonderful. He takes my hand, and I place my head on his shoulder. “I want to be here,” he murmurs. “I love you guys, and I have no reason to walk out of your lives. Sometimes difficulties appear faster than expected, but that’s no reason to turn my back on you. We’ll be fine, trust me.”

  I turn to him. I don’t know if it’s his words or his smell, but I can’t help kissing him. Our wedding day pops into my mind. How I wish for that moment to have lasted longer!

  We fall asleep on the couch, and I never make it to the shower. In the morning, I am on the couch by myself, covered.

  On the kitchen table, I find a beautiful purple journal with a note attached to it. “You might want to remain sad, but when you feel you need to scream or vent, share it in here. Believe me, it won’t talk back. Love, your Husband,” it says. I have no idea how he finds it within himself to be so attentive, but it is admirable.

  I place the note in the journal. The purple cover reminds me of the ball Kaylee played with in my dream. It has been a while since I last dreamed of her. It’s upsetting to think I can’t force myself to dream of her.

  “You’re up?” says my mother, coming into the kitchen with Elizabeth.

  “Yes I’m up, unfortunately,” I say.

  She chooses to ignore my choice of words. “I was about to take a walk with Elizabeth. Do you want to join us?” she asks instead.

  “No mom. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather stay in.”

  “I don’t mind, but give Elizabeth a kiss. She needs to feel her mommy at least once in a while,” she says, lifting her towards me.

  I take her in my arms, kissing her small head. My heart feels heavy that I simply don’t have it in me to be a mother to her. “Take her mom, I can’t right now.” She takes her back, and Elizabeth starts crying, missing my touch.

  Honestly, she’ll get over it. We all do.

  I turn away. My mother gets the hint and places the baby in the stroller and walks out of the house.

  I watch them go, and the stress and sadness I am causing to those I love because of my own personal pain suddenly strikes me.

  I shouldn’t be here. This is not my home anymore. Kaylee took that away with her. I shouldn’t remain here either.

  I pick up the journal and go to my room. I gather some things before anyone gets back and place them in my closet and take a quick shower.

  The house feels cold despite the beautiful weather. I don’t know if it is the anxiety of wanting to leave or of not knowing what I should do next.

  Within a few minutes, I’m dressed in a sweat suit, sneakers and have made a bun with my hair. I grab the bag from the closet and realize that this is what my life has come to: a bag can hold my entire existence.

  I have never been happier that Nicolas loves taking selfies with the baby, because I am able to pick up a couple of prints from the dresser and tuck them in my journal. Though I can’t stay here anymore, Elizabeth and Nicolas are the best thing to happen to me since Kaylee. But I don’t deserve them.

  I run around looking for a few pictures of Kaylee and me, then stop to look at everything to think what else I need to take. I settle for my laptop, my cell phone, some clothes, bank cards, my passport and a few other documents I need to move along.

  It’s unfair to walk out without an explanation, especially because I am leaving behind many of my responsibilities. But everyone will be better off without me.

  I open my bag again and pull out a page from my journal. I write, “Nicolas, I can’t do this. Please take care of Elizabeth and yourself. She couldn’t be any luckier than to have a father like you. You two will be better off without me. Also tell my mother, Julie, and Diane I love them and will miss them dearly. But my life here is no life anymore. I am dragging you all down, and I don’t have the right to do that. I do love you. Please kiss Elizabeth for me and tell her I
love her one last time. I’m sorry I have to go. Brook.”

  I place the note on our bed and leave the house. “I’m sorry,” I say, walking out. I wish to be stronger and stick around, but I just don’t have it in me. I failed Kaylee. I can’t continue failing everyone else around me.

  A white butterfly lands on my chest, stopping me in my tracks. I wonder if it’s Kaylee, visiting me as promised. I must be delusional, I think. Yet the butterfly sits on me, as if trying to stop me from leaving. I wave my hand lightly towards it, and it flies off and lands on the glass pane of the house door.

  “Kaylee, if it’s you, know that I love you more than anything, but I can’t be here without you. Take care of your sister. Mommy has to go,” I tell the butterfly, not knowing if I am crazy.

  As much as it pains me, I turn around and walk down to my car, leaving behind what once was mine.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you to my husband Carlos for loving me during my many stages of writing.

  Thank you to my son, Alex for encouraging me to follow my dreams while being on the road of following his own dreams.

  Thank you to my daughter, Victoria for opening my eyes to new possibilities.

  Thank you to my friend Karina for volunteering herself, as my Beta Reader. It was a huge risk, especially not knowing what she was getting herself into. I’m happy I didn’t bore her eyeballs to blindness and that she loved my novel.

  Thank you to my very special friend Shaunda, for reading my work while I was hiding it from world, and motivating me until the very end.

  Thank you to my editor, Aaron, at Editing by PaperTrue.

  Lastly, thank you to everyone who joined me on Instagram, during my writing adventure.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Yari Martinez lives in New York with her husband and their two children, where she divides her time between a full-time job and being a part-time writer. Yari received her Bachelors of Arts in criminal justice at Saint Leo University in St. Leo, Florida. My Two Husbands is her first novel.

  CONNECT WITH YARI

  To stay updated with upcoming novels and to discuss this book with the author. Visit her on Instagram at Author_Yari_Martinez and on Twitter at AuthorYMartinez