There's No Turning Back

David arrived home late that night- well, not late, but it was later than I expected. He left in the morning when his mother came over, and he was out all day; he didn't return until eight at night, after I (and he, somewhere else) had dinner. By the time he had returned, it was only me in the house.

His mother had left around five; she took Annie with her, claiming that I needed privacy if I was going to talk to him. She said she'd take care of her for me, and wished me the best of luck. He had missed her whole stay here.

I laid in bed, the covers covering the lower half of my body, and stared blankly at the images that flashed across the television screen. I'm not sure why it's even turned on, but it made me feel at ease- better than sitting in the silence alone in an empty house. I'm not a big fan of being home alone; the majority of home life was spent with at least one other person, due to having children around.

I heard the front door slightly slam shut, and the shuffling of a pair of feet moving around silently; I knew it was David. I took in a deep breath and I could feel my heart begin to race as a feeling of nervousness began to build inside of me. My hands clasped together and my fingers tugged at each other involuntarily. I made a mental checklist about what I wanted to say.

What was there for me to say? What was the best thing for me to say to make this whole situation better- even though, the majority of it was most likely my fault. But that's usually the first steps towards solving a problem, right? To accept that it was your fault, and apologize, put in a good effort to sort out the rights from the wrongs.

I know that the whole entire time period that we spent at the cemetery, I've been negative and filled with thoughts that worked to my advantage and how I felt. Thinking back to it, it felt as though I based all the thoughts and my actions around the thought that it was all about me. I was wrong.

Surely I'm in grief and pain, having to bury my own child instead of the vice versa, but I was too wrapped up in my thoughts and that stupid dream that I didn't take the time to take into consideration the fact that there's other people around me. I didn't take in the fact that others around me have suffered as well - others who have loved Cheyenne the way I did.

What about all the people that helped me through it all? I owe a lot to those people. They deserve some credit and so much more; especially David. He had made me who I am today- who I would normally be today -and I owe him the most out of anyone. He had improved my life and all of those around him. He doesn't deserve this.

I did wrong, I'll admit that much.

Oh, how selfish one can be.

After spending a good part of my time yesterday, grieving and such to myself, basing my actions upon that, my negative thoughts began to fade away with time. Later in the day, I began to just drift off into a daydream, observing the liveliness around me. My thoughts became light and positive as I felt relaxed - or at least, that's what I'd like to tell myself that I felt.

I tried to keep my words to David; I would relax after he showed me proof that she was gone. I didn't want to put stress on the newcoming baby, and if something bad were to happen, I wouldn't want it to be because of me to crush him over it.

His words had really sunken into me that afternoon; the fact that it was true, she is in a better place, gave me an at ease feeling. She wasn't suffering here with all of life's obstacles. It'll always be hard to let go and not grieve, but overtime, it gets easier to move forward and smile, to go on with what you can and not let the past stop you.

Once it happens, it happens. There's no turning back.

But I guess he never got around to seeing that progression throughout the day.

My head snapped up when I heard footsteps coming towards the room and saw the slightly opened door, being pushed open softly. David stuck his head in, cautiously looking around; his glance landed on me for a brief second before he looked down and pushed the rest of the door open - once again, in a slow pace.

"Hi." I greeted him softly, my eyes following his every movement.

He replied monotonously, "Hey." then made his way over to my vanity table; he stared at himself in the mirror as he unbuttoned his black button-up shirt and took it off, only to reveal to plain white tee shirt.

I decided to start off a conversation casually, "What'd you do today?" I placed a small smile on my lips and stared at him through his reflection, but all I got was a shrug, "Nothing fun?" it wasn't a smart question to ask- I knew that for a fact. His mother pretty much already told me his whole day's plans.

"Nothing." he replied indifferently.

I sighed and turned off the television. I sat up straight and turned towards him, sitting on my legs. "Can we talk?" I asked him and he paused, for once staring directly at me- even if it was through the mirror. His eyes flashed with some source of emotion before they returned back to their previous impassive, yet sorrow-filled, state.

"What is it about?" he swept the bangs out of his eyes, still keeping his eyes on me.

"Us." I simply replied.

He sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of his side of the bed, his back still facing towards me. He bent over slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "What is there to talk about?" his voice was different - lower than normal - and peered at me from around and over his shoulder. His eyes were half closed as they looked back at me.

I crawled over to him, now sitting behind him and slightly over to the side next to him. I laid my hands on his shoulders, "Our marriage." I began to put some light pressure on them, pressing and squeezing in a massaging motion; he tensed up. "We can work this out."

"What are you talking about." he questioned, his voice remaining monotone.

"Your mother told me today," my hand traveled up to the base of his neck, "About you getting second thoughts." I replied to him softly, "I'm sorry but things don't have to be this way; we can work this out." he shook his head, relaxing his shoulders, "I didn't mean to be that way the other day." I stopped my movements and sat back on my legs, placing my hands in my lap.

For the first time that night, he turned his body and sat fully on the bed, looking completely at me. I had his full attention and he was waiting for me to continue. He seemed interested enough in listening to what I had to say. I smiled gratefully and he returned it, much to my surprise, before I continued on.

I repeated what ran through my mind only a few minutes prior. The words flew out of my mouth so quickly, all the sentences slurring together into a big run on sentence. I blurted out all that I wanted to say - all that kept me back for the past few days; I blurted out how I really felt and how I dealt with everything. I pleaded for him not to end what we have, and I tried to say all that I can - all that I thought he wanted to hear - to change his mind.

A marriage is a deal that's supposed to last forever, and I'll do anything that I can to keep ours just that.