by Tina Martin
“Whoa...you were in love with Ava. Where is this coming from?”
“Don’t get me wrong...I still love her, but the fact is, she’s always sick and—”
Todd’s eyebrows rose. “Even after the heart transplant, she’s sick?”
“No, well, she has to take medicine and supplements every day...and I’m always taking her to the hospital for regular checkups, and blood tests and x-rays, echocardiograms...some days she’s in bed all day. She’s not one-hundred percent.”
“You can’t expect her to be at her full potential after a surgery like that, Dre.”
“I don’t expect her to be one-hundred percent, but I would like some effort...seventy-five percent...fifty percent, even. And you know what my main problem is?”
“What’s that?”
“She’s not that carefree, fun-loving woman that I fell in love with. When we first met, she was...she was perfect. Now she’s in bed most of the time, and if she gets out of bed, and that’s a big if, she rarely combs her hair, she doesn’t try to fix herself up or nothing. It’s like she doesn’t care anymore...like she’s given up on life and is comfortable with me taking care of her and that’s it.”
“Things change, man.”
“I’m aware of that, Todd, and please don’t mistake my venting as a lack of love and commitment to Ava because...she’s my heart. That’s the hardest part of all of this.”
Todd nodded.
“Some things just bother me,” Andre continued. “It’s like, when I sit back and think about the kind of woman I wanted to marry, I wanted her to be someone I could travel the world with. Go on adventures. Take risks. Share each other. I can’t do that with Ava. We can barely go for a walk without her losing her breath. I can’t even make love to her.”
“What?”
“I can’t make love to her.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“I’m so terrified I’m going to hurt her in some way that I barely touch her. I treat her like she’s fragile. If I make one wrong move, she’s broken. It’s been about ten months since her surgery and I haven’t touched her.”
“Dang. I can see how that would be frustrating. Goodness!”
“And that’s another issue. She’s my wife. Of course I want to make love to her, but I...I just can’t.”
“That’s a tough one, bro.”
“I just find myself always caring for her, making sure she’s fine, making sure she’s comfortable, but at the end of the day, who takes care of me? I guess what it all comes down to is, I’m tired of always being put on the backburner. But I love her so much that I mask all of these feelings...mask my wants and needs just to make sure she’s taken care or, but it’s starting to wear on me now.”
“What can you do about it?”
“I have no idea what to do about it. All I can do is keep doing what I’m doing.”
“And that’s what? Taking care of her while you’re miserable?”
Andre nodded. “You got it, bro.”
When the waitress came by again, she took their food orders. Andre convinced Todd to order the same meal as him – the barbecue ribs and smokin’ hot wings with bottomless fries. When the waitress walked away, Todd said, “You can’t do that to yourself, Dre. Let me tell you why. If you keep holding these feelings inside, then eventually, they’re going to come out in an angry way...it’s like you’ve been holding it in for so long that when you finally decide to tell her, you’re like a balloon that has too much air. You’re going to pop.”
Andre sighed. “Like I said, I love her. I’m just not—”
“Happy,” Todd finished saying for him.
“But that’s the thing...I am happy. I just...”
“You sound confused.”
Andre smirked. “That’s what I am. Confused.”
When the food came, the men did less talking and more eating and, towards the end of their meals Andre looked up at Todd and said, “Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t mention anything we talked about to Sasha. I wouldn’t want to hurt Ava. She already thinks she’s a burden on me.”
“But by your own admission, she is.”
Andre wiped his mouth and said, “She’s my wife and no matter how I feel, I love her.”
“But you can’t hide your feelings forever, Dre. You’re going to pop. The best thing you can do right now is to sit down with her and tell her how you really feel.”
Andre thought about it for a moment. How could he tell the woman he loved the things he said to Todd tonight? He couldn’t. He knew that, especially after he’d argued Ava down that he loved her no matter what...that her condition didn’t bother him and to change his tune now would only cause her to pack her bags and move in with her mother. He couldn’t risk losing her and Andrew. And he wouldn’t.
Chapter 2
Ava
. ~ . ~ .
I TOOK A long nap today so I could be up and alert tonight when Andre was finally home. He met up with Todd for dinner and I knew he would be home later than normal. Tonight, though, instead of walking into a dark bedroom, he’d be greeted with a welcoming, loving wife. I smile thinking about that because, lately, things between us has been a little strained. I say strained because I can’t quite come up with another word to describe the current state of our marriage.
Lately, Andre has been spending more and more time at work and I’ve been entertaining our son – taking him to the park, shopping for him, attending toddler readings at our local library. I feed him, bathe him every night, read to him and sing him to sleep – things I was doing all alone when Andre wasn’t in the picture. Things I did as a single mother. Now that Andre and I are married, I’m still doing the single-mom stuff. It wasn’t always that way.
Early on in our marriage, Andre was more understanding of me and my needs. He was more family oriented, a very hands-on father with Andrew. Now, he’s a missing-in-action dad, and if he’s not missing, he’s dispirited when he’s with us.
Prime example...
Saturdays are our family days and while he used to enjoy this time with us, now he seems more annoyed with it. Or maybe bored is a better word, because several times while we’re supposed to be enjoying some quality family time, he’s on his cell phone handling business. I get the vibe that he’d rather be doing other things instead of spending time with us. That has to change. That’s why, tonight, I’m going to surprise him with a massage, some soft music and candles – just to help him relax a bit. Take some pressure off. Show him that I can be spontaneous and fun.
I feel a sense of excitement tickle my insides when I hear him moving around downstairs. It’s a few minutes after midnight and I know he’ll be surprised to see that I’m still awake.
When he climbs the stairs, I feel butterflies in my stomach in anticipation to what he’ll think when he sees that I have transformed our bedroom into a honeymoon retreat. I haven’t touched Andre in a while because I get the feeling he doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after working long hours. He usually just takes a shower and slide into bed. He doesn’t watch TV or sip on a beer. Every night, it’s the same thing – shower and bed. I’m lucky if I see him before he leaves for work the next morning. He goes in early. Stays late. He’s become quite the work-a-holic.
Compare that to his habits immediately following my heart transplant surgery and transition to home. He was by my side constantly, day and night, making sure I was okay. He waited on me hand and foot for months before he finally resumed work in his home office. That’s not to say he doesn’t take care of me now, because he still does. However, it’s not as detailed and thorough as before. And he went from working at home to working outside of our home. Said Andrew was distracting him while he was on conference calls. I still can’t see how that’s possible especially when his office is sound proof and tucked on the right side of the house away from the living rooms and bedrooms. Still, he wanted to move his office into a three-story building he purchase
d in Miami.
I hear the knob on the bedroom door rattle and I see my man come in the bedroom. Andre is handsome, as he always is, especially with a fresh haircut, an edged mustache above his slender, sexy lips and his chiseled face that makes him look distinguished. Important. Like somebody you should know. And his expensive wardrobe enhances his swagger. Goodness, he’s beautiful. Sometimes, I can’t believe he’s mine. That he chose me.
“Hi, Dre.”
The look on his face is priceless. First, there’s a frown, then slowly, a smile appears.
“What are you doing up, Ava?” he asks, just standing there by the door. He doesn’t come over to hug me, kiss me...nothing of the sort. He just stands there.
“I thought I’d surprise you with a massage. I know you’ve been working hard lately and—”
He shakes his head. “Sweetie, that’s not necessary. Go on and get some sleep.”
He saunters over to me in a very sexy, effortless, lazy stroll while loosening his necktie. Then he places his hands on the sides of my face and leans down, pushing his lips against mine. It’s euphoric. It nearly takes my breath away. He hasn’t kissed me in a long time and, while I’m enjoying the taste of his lips, I smell the slightest bit of alcohol on him while my eyes are closed. The smell of it mixes with his cologne. I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage tonight, but I feel like I’m intoxicated. Drunk in love. I’m enjoying this much desired physical contact.
“Ava.”
When he says my name, my eyes spring open, connecting to his hazel eyes. “Yes?”
“Go to sleep, dear. We’re going to be out tomorrow and you need your rest.”
We’re simply taking our son to the park. I don’t need much sleep. Besides, I’d gotten plenty of rest earlier in the day in anticipation for his arrival. I’m well-rested, ready for my man.
“Andre, trust me. I’m fine. I just want to spend time with you tonight.”
“But—”
“I don’t need rest. I slept earlier and now I want to spend time with you. Please, Andre.”
He sighs, stands tall, unbuttons his shirt and says reluctantly, “Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower. Be right back.”
Andre walks to the bathroom and I hear the rushing water, imagining how he must look naked under the steady flow of water splashing against his body. I can’t remember the last time I saw him naked. It almost seems that he tries to hide his body from me, even to the point of wearing a T-shirt and boxers to bed. Well, he always wore boxers to bed but he never used to wear T-shirts. That started about three months ago. It seemed like such a small thing at the time that I never bothered asking him why he began dressing differently for bed. I just assumed his preference had changed, the same way he decided to relocate his office. A preference change...
I hear the water shut off and I’m nervous again. Ugh. Why am I nervous to spend quality time with my husband? I shouldn’t be, but I want so much for this night to be perfect. So I make sure I have the lotion ready. The candles are still burning strong. Music, low and romantic. The mood, just right.
I watch Andre emerge from the bathroom and stand there in front of the door like he’s afraid to take steps towards our bed. Apparently, he’s taken the time to towel-dry himself in the bathroom because he’s wearing a pair of boxers. At least he’s not wearing a shirt.
“Come lie down right here.” I tap his side of the bed and he slowly begins his walk towards me. His chest is a wall of rock hard muscles. His pecks are contoured just right. I can’t wait to touch him. To rub lotion on him.
“Lie down,” I tell him again.
He smiles this time and says, “Okay, baby. I’m lying down.”
“On your stomach, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he quips.
He flips around so that he’s on his stomach now. “You look beautiful in that lingerie, by the way.”
“Thanks, Dre.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
I reach for the lotion bottle on his nightstand and straddle him, sitting on his firm butt. I squeeze lotion in my hands, rub them together and massage his back. It feels amazing just to touch him – to run my hands across the thick muscles of his smooth back.
He releases a deep sigh.
I smile because I feel like I’m doing a good job. Finally. I feel like I haven’t done anything to make him happy in a long time.
Andre refuses to make love to me. Says he’s afraid that he’ll hurt me. Sometimes I wonder…if he’s not making love to me, who is he making love to?
I don’t allow the thought to linger. I continue massaging him, working my way down to his thick, calf muscles then on to his feet. I’m massaging him with all the strength in my hands. Every single toe gets its own individual attention.
“Andre?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Turn over.”
He does so easily and I’m surprised. By now, I thought he’d be convincing me to stop, or better yet, trying to take over and massage me instead. He always puts my needs ahead of his own, so when his lean body is adjusting to my suggestion, I’m beyond thrilled.
I squeeze another glob of lotion in my hands and run them across his hard pecks, enjoying the dusting of black hair on his chest.
“Is it okay?” I ask him.
Andre opens his eyes and says, “Yes, baby.”
“Are you relaxed?”
He smiles. “Yes…very relaxed.”
I reach across his body to set the lotion bottle on the nightstand again and straddle him afterwards. I take his strong hands into mine while holding his gaze. I watch him grimace a little as if he’s confused. Conflicted. Like he doesn’t want to touch me.
“Ava, what are you doing?” he asks, disconnecting our hands.
I try to mask a frown. I don’t want to ruin our night, so to get through to him, I say, “I’m trying to get you to touch me. You really don’t touch me anymore, Andre.”
“That’s because I’m more concerned with taking care of you.”
“Taking care of me?”
“Yes. Taking care of you.”
“Well, you don’t need to be so concerned anymore,” I tell him. “I feel great. I just want to be with you.” I lean down over him, my lips mere inches away from his and whisper, “Make love to me, Andre.”
He frowns again. “No.”
“Andre...”
“I said no,” he says, seemingly frustrated.
Even though I know he’s serious, I try to keep a positive, lighthearted spirit. I’ve invested so much time and effort into this night, and I want everything to be perfect. The only thing that’s not perfect is the fact that my husband doesn’t want to touch me. Convinced that he just needs a little motivation, I take a kiss from his lips, then say, “You obviously want to, so—”
“We’re not making love,” he says, resolutely. He sits up which prompts me to move from on top of him and sit on the bed next to him instead. I feel broken. Embarrassed. These are feelings I should never feel with the man who’s supposed to love me, but I feel them and it hurts. I know Andre feels like he can’t make love to me, fearing that he might hurt me. But not making love to me is doing more harm than good.
“Dre, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong like you don’t know?”
“I don’t,” I respond, beyond frustrated. “We can make love, Andre. There’s nothing wrong with—”
“There’s plenty wrong with you, Ava. Plenty.” He lays down again, turns his back to me as if he’s going to sleep.
“Then why do you want to be with me?”
“Seriously?” he drawls out. “We’re on that again?”
“Yes. I need to know. You barely even touch me anymore.”
“There’s more to marriage than making love,” he says, standing, taking a shirt from his dresser and sliding it over his head, down his torso.
“And what’s that for us? You’re at work most days. We hardly do anything together.”
&nbs
p; “Not true.”
“It is true. You’d rather be at work than with me and Andrew.”
He snaps. “As I recall, we spend every Saturday together as a family. Every Saturday.”
I shake my head. “You are at the park with us, yes, but are you really there, Andre? Your mind was totally somewhere else.”
He glares at me as if I’m being ridiculous and says, “Yeah...I wasn’t there. Has it occurred to you, Ava, that we’ve been going to the park every weekend for months?”
“I thought you liked going to the park and spending time together as a family?”
“I do, but every weekend?”
“Then why do you go, Andre?”
“Because that’s about all the activity you feel up to doing so that’s what I do. I do whatever you want to do...whatever you can handle. It’s not about me, Ava. What I want, what I need doesn’t matter. It never has in this relationship, so why should it now?”
The look I give him is one of misunderstanding though I understand him perfectly. “Wow,” is all I can muster, and without saying another word, I get up from the bed, take my robe from a chair then slip into it.
“That came out wrong, Ava. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah. I know exactly what you meant,” I say, angrily blowing out candles. “And to think I wanted to do something nice for you.” I turn off the music and walk by him, proceeding out of the bedroom door. So much for a night of romance. It was more like a night of revelations – now I know for certain that my husband has begun to resent me.
Chapter 3
Andre
. ~ . ~ .
HE COULDN’T SLEEP much last night. After Ava stormed out of the bedroom, she locked herself in one of the guest bedrooms down the hallway – the one furthest away from their master bedroom. He’d stood there for a few minutes last night, knocking on the door, then just stopped, not wanting to wake up Andrew.
This morning, he sat up in bed, alone. With his feet on the floor now, he rubbed his eyes, adjusting his vision to accommodate the morning sun streaming in bright through the windows. The first thing on his agenda was sitting down with Ava, apologizing to her and then, after they made up, they would spend the day together as a family like they did every Saturday.