Finding My Reason

by Claudia Burgoa

  I pouted like a petulant child and clarified in partially slurred speech. “I mean we should get married, silly.”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “You’re too fucked up for this.”

  “No, I’m not,” I insisted because it was true.

  “Yeah, you are,” he assured me, shaking his head as if I couldn’t handle whatever he thought was the truth. “And if you weren’t, we could have a nice adult discussion about how we are not ready for that kind of commitment.”

  Giving up, I feigned sleep. When he decided I was properly passed out, he went about his nightly ritual. The last thing I heard him say before he fell asleep was a soft murmur and a few horrifying words. Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?

  The next morning, I pretended like I didn’t remember anything from the night before. I haven’t brought up the issue since that night...Well, until now. I wish I had a better way to go about this. Coming up with some sort of speech or strategy just made me increasingly nervous. So, I’m about to wing one of the hardest conversations of my life.

  We’re eating Chinese food on the couch, watching some action movie Hudson insisted on streaming. Part of my world ventures was to discover where I came from. I didn’t find out much, to be honest. I’m probably Middle Eastern to some extent, and that’s as much as I could find. At some point, I should really do a DNA test or something...

  I’m getting off track. I have to focus. I take a deep breath. My entire body feels like it’s shaking. Is this supposed to happen? What am I so nervous about? We love each other. It’s going to be okay.

  I have to get this over with before I lose my nerve.

  “So, babe.” I try to keep my tone even and low, feigning casualness.

  “What?” His question is garbled under a spring rolled that was stuffed in his mouth.

  “I’ve been thinking...wondering, actually,” I stammer, pushing the food inside the carton with my chopsticks. “If...uh...it’s time to have a talk.”

  “About what?” He stops eating and partially turns towards me.

  “About us...and our future.” My stomach is tied in knots just like every muscle in my body. But I keep it casual and give him a shrug as if I haven’t been thinking about this for the longest time. “I was just wondering where you see us in five years.”

  “Is this a job interview?” His disdain is followed by another bite of his spring roll.

  “No. This a discussion about our life together. Our future,” I clarify making sure each word I say is clear, and he grasps the meaning. This time, I’m not hinting; I’m delivering the message loud and clear. “Again, where do you see us in five years?”

  Hudson stares intently into my eyes, then as if finding the source to this discussion, growls in frustration. “Not this again,” he mutters almost too quietly for me to hear.

  My heart stops. This time, it isn’t because he’s giving me one of those soul-searching-I want-to-consume-you kisses. But because his jaw hardens along with his gaze.

  “Look.” He turns to face me entirely, leaving his food on top of the coffee table and taking mine from my grasp. “You know I love you.”

  “And I love you,” I add calmly.

  Hudson takes my hands in his, gently caressing their backsides with his calloused thumbs. “And we love how things have been thus far. I thought the whole point of us living together was to be able to spend more time together. So here we are, together. I don’t see the need for more.”

  “Yes,” I agree hesitantly. Well, the fucking old saying why buy the cow when you can get milk for free is starting to sound just about right. Moving in together looked perfect when he asked four years ago. Was it out of convenience? Maybe so, and not so much about heading to...the happily ever after route I believed. “You said it was practical. We share everything. A home, the bills, a car...”

  But not a last name, I don’t say out loud and hold on to the tears forming behind my eyes. Why is it he’s having trouble seeing us spending our lives together? Am I not enough for him? What am I doing wrong?

  “Then why?” His right hand releases mine to make hammer-like gestures. “Why would we have to complicate a perfect thing like that with something as complicated and stupid as marriage?”

  Because I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, start a family, and grow old together. Not the answer he’d want to hear. Should I use an example?

  “Claire and Brody have been married for almost thirteen years now,” I point out sternly. “They have two beautiful boys and are so happy together. Why not have the same?”

  “What same? Long hour jobs, paying a high mortgage, and barely enjoying life?” He counters, standing up and walking to the other side of the living room. “They no longer party, and their lives have become exhausting. Maybe they keep up with the charade because a divorce will cost too much, or—”

  “Or maybe they work hard on their relationship because they love each other and want to be together,” I snap a tad too loudly.

  “That’s what we’re doing right now!” he booms. He begins pacing our living room. He combs his wavy blond locks so hard he could tear the strands out by their roots.

  “Well maybe that’s what I wanted ten years ago, or even five,” I shout back. I sigh, saying in a tiny voice, “But not anymore. The twenty-three-year-old you met is now thirty-six and wants more from life, and our relationship.”

  I rise from my seat, walking closer to him but keeping the loud volume. “I want to marry the man I’m in love with. Spend the rest of my life with the guy who wants the same things from life, who supports my dreams and comforts me when I'm down. The one I thought loved me and accepted me for who I am.” My body is shaking with adrenaline and since everything is coming out, why not let all out? “LoDo isn’t my scene. I want to live in a small city close to downtown where our kids can have a backyard. Some nights I imagine them, our babies. A little girl with your curly dark blonde hair and green eyes. Maybe a boy or two.”

  Hudson opens his mouth to speak, then stops in his tracks. He tries to talk again, and then once more. Finally, on the fifth try, he pauses and looks me right in the eyes. His green irises are pleading with me. They glimmer with desperation and fear. “We don’t have the financial stability to have children, Jade.”

  I laugh because his company is doing well. Every hospital in Denver uses his software, not sure about the rest of the world, but I know he does pretty well financially. “It’s a baby, not an entire country. We both work. Surely we can afford to support another person.”

  “Our apartment is close to the office,” he ignores me. “Why move away because of some dream you think you want today and will regret tomorrow? Children aren’t temporary; you can’t move on and leave them behind. If you were to have any, you’d have to stop being you.”

  “Stop being me?” I hug myself, trying to warm my body from the cold stare he’s giving me. “Wanting a new path doesn’t change me.”

  “Exactly,” he lowers his voice. “Just like I wouldn’t want you to change, you shouldn’t want to change me. I don’t believe in marriage, and children are out of the question. I’m sorry, Jade. That’s not me. Tell me you understand, that you’ll stop.”

  We stare at each other for what feels like forever. Something snaps. For a second, I believe our connection had broken, and I’m the one to blame for it.

  “Please?” The word sounds like a plea, an ultimatum, a... I don’t like his tone, and I’m worried about what my request might’ve done to us. Because marriage isn't not what he wants.

  But what about what I want?

  My boyfriend of a half decade, the love of my life, can’t give me what I want. His words sound final. I don’t know if the fear in his eyes is because he’s scared I’ll make him hate me or leave me. Either sounds too cruel of him...of me. All I see in his eyes is the pain my request is creating. Why? We communicate so well, know each other and yet, ever since we’ve met, we always have trouble talking about our expectations. What
next?

  “Okay.” I shrug, not in defeat, but I can’t have this conversation anymore. I can’t see him hurt like this. Not everyone gets what they want. At least I won’t walk through life wondering what would’ve happened if I had asked. Right?

  “Come on,” he whispers, crossing the room to wrap his arms around my waist. “Let’s not fight tonight. Tell me what to do to make it up to you?”

  I’m at a crossroad, confused on what to do. The strong person inside me tells me to continue fighting until my voice is heard, because deep down I know my request isn’t stupid, nor irrational. If he gave us a chance, this relationship would evolve and become more...wholesome. Instead, the insecure child inside me takes over and yields. Because Jade always does what others want in order to make them happy. His happiness is key to mine. If I make the wrong move, he’ll leave me, and I can’t afford to lose him. Can I?

  He scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and takes me to bed. He undresses me slowly, his hands unwrap me as if tonight was the last time they’d get to do it, or afraid I will disappear. Is that it? Does Hudson plan on ending this now that he knows I want more than he’ll ever want to give? The fear of being alone is back, taking over my heart. The little girl is once again in the middle of a dark room crying, waiting for someone to hold her again.

  But she shouldn’t. She’s old and wise and has a family. Should I leave before he leaves me? What do I do to convince him that I’m enough? That he should stay with me.

  The voice of that strong woman I grew up to becomes louder as Hudson undresses. Snapping out of the trance and shaking the fear, I stand, push myself out of bed and walk to the closet slipping on a pair of jeans, a turtleneck and a pair of tennis shoes.

  Me: Where are you?

  Libby: Downtown.

  Me: Meet me at the coffee shop down by 16th and Market St.

  Libby: Everything okay?

  Me: No.

  Libby: You finally did it, didn’t you?

  Me: Yeah. He doesn’t want either one.

  Libby: Sorry, Jadey. At least now you know. See you in a few.

  I come out of our closet and march to the coat closet for my parka.

  “Princess?” His widen eyes observe my every move. “Where are you going?”

  “Out, to think,” I inform him, searching for my house keys.

  He walks toward me, hugging me tight as if trying to make sure I won’t leave him.

  “I love you, princess,” he whispers against my neck. “We’re far from ordinary, remember. A unique kind of story with a twist and our own version of happy.”

  But I want happily ever after, not just happy. I shed a tear as I rest my head on his chest. Tonight, I’m more confused about my future and what’ll become of us. Hudson Drago is my new version of Mount Everest. A big tall challenging mountain everyone wanted to reach, but not many can say they’ve scaled.

  Chapter 20

  Jade

  December 31sth, 2015

  Last week was Christmas, and my brother was too cheap to fly home. The hospital was short-staffed so my mom had to go in and assist the nurses in the ER. The holidays are always rough at the hospital. Hudson never wants to see his family unless they come to us. Libby, my best friend, decided to go to Fiji for Christmas this year, since her daughter Heather, is with her father’s family. Even Brody and Claire were out of town with some relatives and their boys.

  Hudson, for his part, isn’t an avid Christmas fan either. Traveling this year was out of the question. With everything that’s been going right for his company, we had to stay. Christmas for us mostly consisted of quietly eating dinner on the 25th. It’s starting to become a habit, that I have to find the time for us to be together. He’s too busy at the office; there’s a new software he’s planning on launching next year. The success of his company excites me, I know how much he struggled to get it off the ground, but for once I’d like for him to give me some of the time he dedicates to it. At least during evenings and the holidays.

  Yet, when New Year’s Eve arrived, I expected a surprise. Unlike other years, we don’t have plans. The annual trip didn’t happen. Last week when I told Claire my theory, she thought I was crazy.

  “Ever since I told him my expectations, he’s been acting...different,” I explained while enjoying the red wine one of her clients gifted her for Christmas. No, enjoying is wrong. It was more like drowning my sorrows. “Do you know when the last time he said I love you was?”

  Or we had sex? He hasn’t touch me for so long that my skin is wilting along with my heart.

  “Please, enlighten me, and that’s your last glass of wine. I think you’re drunk.” I was only tipsy, but drunk in sorrow.

  “The night I confronted him and told him about my desire to marry him and having his children,” I continued, drinking from my glass like if it was a cheap shot of tequila. “Maybe that’s it, that he doesn’t love me anymore. He’s waiting for me to up and leave so he can find a more suitable wife and mother to his children. Libby doesn’t believe me, but if he continues being a shithead, I’m leaving him first.”

  Needless to say, I had to stay that night at Claire’s because we both ended up drinking the five bottles of Chardonnay she received that day. Continuing in this relationship is becoming challenging and hurtful. I feel as if I keep giving and giving, while Hudson pushes me away and wasting what I give him. This is the first New Year’s Eve I am wearing my pajamas and watching Netflix while Hudson is working. God, I sound like a whiney woman who isn’t getting her way. Is it really that important to get married and have children?

  Me: Are you back in town?

  Libby: You didn’t leave town?

  Me: Nope.

  Libby: But you’re going to some fancy restaurant to celebrate, right?

  Me: Nope. Try pj’s and Netflix. He’s working in the living room, while I’m in the room watching TV.

  Libby: That bad?

  Me: I might do it, Lib.

  Libby: If you do, call me. I’m here to pick you up.

  “Do you want to do something tonight, princess?” he interrupts my internal rant.

  I shrug, not looking at him. It’s the fear of showing the sadness and anger I’m beginning to wear as a second skin. Staring at my phone, I wonder if leaving right now is as good as any other day of the week or year? Would he even care?

  “We have to celebrate and receive the year with a different light. I have the feeling next year will be the best one yet,” he says, using his usual cheery voice when I’m down. Maybe it’s all in my head, I lie to myself. He loves you.

  “Give me a half an hour to get ready.” I turn off my laptop and finally meet his gaze.

  His lips curve into the wicked, sexy smile I love.

  There’s no fancy dinner. We go to this club in LoDo, getting a little too wrecked for being in our late 30s. We took an Uber there and back the second driver almost kicked us out of the car before we arrived home. One thing about when Hudson and I get drunk is that we get horny. We couldn’t keep our hands and mouths off of each other. The fire building between us was hot enough to melt the snow on the ground.

  We make our way up the stairs and inside the apartment where Hudson shuts the door pinning me against it. His skillful lips pressing firm on top of mine, his tongue swirling next to mine. Dominating the kiss. I moan against his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. Heat spreading through every cell of my body. Igniting the desire I thought had died. And though my body wanted this, my head nagged me about how wrong this was.

  “What are we doing?” I say between pants. He doesn’t respond. Too busy, or too horny to pay attention. He wears a wicked smile. His eyes focused on my clothing, as his hands are frantically undressing me. I place my hands on top of his chest, sobering my thoughts. Which is impossible because ever nerve in my body is awake and ready for him. “Hud?”

  “Baby, if I have to explain you...” His voice is low, sexy. Those eyes concentrate on my lips. Then, his chin lifts and his smirk becomes a full bl
own smile. “We are going to do a few things. One, forget the past few weeks happened. Two, we will hit reset button and go back to us.”

  “Reset button?” I repeat, he finally shades my coat off and does the same to his, along with his long sleeve shirt showing his sculpted muscles. My hands reached out to touch his rippled abs, as they lower to the waistband of his jeans. “We should talk.”

  “Talking is what fucked up our relationship.” He slams his mouth on mine, and suddenly my feet are no longer touching the floor. I’m being carried to our bedroom where he places me on the middle of the bed.

  “I want us to talk,” I insist while fighting the lust. Impossible as his expert hands continue undressing me, while his mouth nibbles every inch of skin he touches.

  He tugs my panties, pushing my legs open and lowers his mouth close to my center. “So you say,” he breaths so close to my sensitive bud that I jolt.

  “We have rules.” He stops, those light green eyes connecting with mine. “While on vacations, you choose the morning activities, while I decide what we do after five. I say we don’t talk. We fuck.”

  I press both hands to my chest. “Be still my beating heart.” Instead of letting this happen, I push myself onto my forearms and stare at him. “Fuck, seriously?”

  “Jade, I’m trying here.” He lowers his head, as his defeated voice takes over the room. “We’ve always made love. I’m handing over an olive branch. Please, baby, take it. Let me love you. I miss you so much.”

  Then why everything became so complicated between us? But his loving eyes stop all those questions I want answers to. Tomorrow, we can talk tomorrow. And so I let my heart lead.

  “I miss you too,” I stammer fighting the tears, letting my heart speak. The pain inside my chest begins to disappear. “I need you.”

  He rises from the floor, takes off his jeans and boxers and without foreplay he moves between my legs, covering my body with his big frame he slides every inch of his rock-hard cock into me letting out a loud growl. He kisses me fiercely. His hands glide up and down my body, worshiping it. My fingers trace every hard muscle of his back, as my hips match the swaying moves of his. The synchronicity is just perfect. Every thrust goes deeper and deeper.