Baby Remind Me

“Why do you always do this?!”

“Me? Why is this always my fault! All I did was come home and you were ready to tear my head off!” I argued, feeling my temperature rising as my face turned a shade of red. I hated this, I hated that we’d been arguing so much lately, but we’d never truly fought. Not until tonight.

A long stretch of road games had really taken its toll on us; Ashley had looked ready to murder me when I’d walked in the door and called out to see if she was home.

“Excuse me? All you did was come home? When’s the last time you did that Marc? I don’t even see you anymore!” she shot back. That one hurt – she’d known when I’d been drafted that it would be like this. I’d never made any illusions about the kind of time we’d have to spend apart, and she’d always more than understood.

“Sorry that my job made me fly all over the god-damn country the last two weeks! You think I like being away from home and from you for that long?” I demanded, and saw fire flash behind her eyes. Damn Irish temper, it definitely clashed with how stubborn I was.

“Oh yeah? You really missed me huh?” she hissed, slamming down a magazine on the table, open to a page. I glanced down at it, and saw a picture of me walking down the street with Alanna. I had an arm around her shoulders and we were both laughing at something, but even to a stranger we wouldn’t look romantic together, and Ashley knows that I’d never cheat on her – let alone with a teammate’s wife.

“Really? Really?” I asked, looking back up at those fiery green eyes.

“So you just took an extra night coming back even though you supposedly don’t like to be away from home and me for that long. Just had to find yourself someone to keep your bed warm while you were gone?” she asked, her volume increasing substantially.

“God no! She’s one of my best friend’s wives! I would never in a million years cheat on you Ashley!” I insisted. I’d went to help Alanna pick out a birthday present for Henrik, she wanted something special and so I’d been enlisted to kind of pick his brain and help her find the perfect gift.

“Well I’m just not so sure about that anymore,”

“Well I married you didn’t I? Why are you doing this, you know nothing would ever happen between me and her, you know I’d never cheat on you Ashley,” I repeated, unable to believe that after all this time she didn’t trust me. I’d never so much as even accused her of spending time with another man, let alone of cheating if I’d seen her with somebody else. I knew she had guy friends from work and stuff, and it had never really bothered me.

“Well I’m really not so sure about that anymore Marc. Ever since you guys started playing away games it seems like all you do is ignore me and go out to bars and spend a hell of a lot of time with other women!”

“Excuse me? Like hell I do! I went out to celebrate while we were on a winning streak! And never once did I not come home to you,”

“That’s a load of bull Marc! There were lots of nights you didn’t come home!”

“Oh sorry, I forgot the two nights I was too drunk and passed out on Dan’s couch, I guess next time I’ll just risk a car accident,” I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t even go there with me Marc,” she warned me, turning away and leaving the kitchen.

“Don’t even go there? Are you serious? Ever fucking time I come home you’re chewing me out for one thing or another! Why can’t I just come home and feel like you’ve at least missed me Ashley? Or is all this getting on my case for supposedly cheating covering something up?” I followed her, shocked at myself for saying what I did. She stopped dead in her tracks, and then I noticed she was shaking in anger.

“Did you honestly just say that?” her voice was quiet, but powerful.

“Yeah, I did. So are you gonna tell me why you keep fucking attacking me?” I asked, keeping my distance. We were at two different ends of the living room, the one we’d slaved away at for three days decorating and then very fittingly christened for the next two nights while we’d been painting our bedroom. I hated the fact that so many places where we had such good memories together were now being filled with these kind of memories - of fights and arguments and harsh words.

“I am not attacking you, and how fucking dare you accuse me of cheating on you. I gave up everything for you Marc! My family, my friends, my home, my fucking degree… I gave it all up because I love you and I wanted to be here with you and support you. And you just think that I’d cheat on you? Do you really think that poorly of me?” she demanded, not turning to look at me. I knew if she did I would see tears in her eyes, something that she didn’t like me to see, even after being married for nearly two years.

“Do you really think that poorly of me that I would cheat on you?” was my reply. Moments later she’d pushed past me towards our bedroom, and I stood rooted to the spot, not sure of what to do.

I turned when I heard footsteps in the hall, and felt my stomach knot slightly before she came around the corner. Then my heart dropped. She had a bag and her purse, and refused to look at me as she walked by.

“A-Ashley?” my voice was quiet and weak as her name came out, but she refused to answer. It wasn’t until she was nearly out the door that she spoke to me.

“If you get your fucking head out of your ass, then maybe we’ll talk. Until then, don’t even bother calling me Marc. And you can have this back,” something came at me, and while I reflexively caught it, I didn’t look to see what it was. I just watched in shock as she walked out the door. I began to shake, and then the feel of the object in my hand registered, and I couldn’t stand up any longer. I sat down hard on the couch, feeling hot tears behind my eyes even before I opened my fist to see her wedding band lying on my palm.

“Fuck!” I swore, slamming my fist down on the coffee table, feeling the sting of the metal biting into my palm and hearing the creaks and groans of the table underneath the force of my hand. All the little fights, the nagging and the arguments, the accusations… this was it?

My cell phone went off a few minutes later, and I debated even answering it. I wanted to drown myself at the bottom of a whiskey bottle right now. Maybe then in the morning I’d sort through what the hell had just happened.

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing though, so I finally answered it, seeing Dan’s number and name on the display.

“Hello,” my voice was ragged from the near-yelling match we’d had, and shaking from the threatening sobs.

“Marc? Marc what’s wrong?” he asked, and I took a long, slow breath.

“She left,”

“What?”

“She fucking left,” I let out a raspy half-sob, unable to keep it in.

“Do you want me to come over?” he immediately offered, and I managed a strangled laugh.

“Maybe. Fuck I don’t know,”

“Just give me ten. I’ll be there. You drink JD right?” he asked, although he knew the answer. Dan had been there through every bump in the road we’d had, and I don’t know what I’d have done without him and my brothers.

He arrived with a promised bottle of Jack Daniels, which we drank, and only when he was sure I was okay – and realized I wasn’t in any mood to talk about it right now – left. But not before giving me something to stew over, as was his way.

“Is this really worth it Marc?” he asked, although I didn’t quite follow. Whether it was just him or the alcohol I wasn’t sure. I’d done a lot more drinking than he had.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Marc, you two are perfect, and the last few months all you do is pick at each other. Is all the stupid little things you two fight over really worth losing your marriage?”

“Stupid little things? She fucking accused me of cheating on her Dan! It’s not just the stupid little things, those I don’t give a damn about. But this is something else, we’ve been together for eight and a half years years and married for just about two of them and she doesn’t even fucking trust me!” I felt the earlier rage returning, helped along by the alcohol.

“Don’t you snap at me. You aren’t doing anything to stop the fights either; it’s not just her fault Marc. She might be feeling insecure, you’ve always got women throwing themselves at you; how would you feel with men constantly throwing themselves at her?” he asked, and he knew immediately he’d struck a chord with me when my eyes narrows and I clenched my fists. Men did throw themselves at her, flirt shamelessly with her, even though they knew she was my wife. And she didn’t seem to mind the attention either.

“They do, and she seems to love all the attention,” I growled, to which he shook his head.

“Maybe she seems to love the attention because her own husband won’t make the time or put in the effort to give her that kind of attention,” he said before shutting the door hard and leaving. What the hell was he talking about anyway? I always made time for her, and while I maybe wasn’t as outwardly affectionate as some people I paid her a lot of attention. Who’s damn side was he on anyway?

I made my way toward our bedroom, and stopped dead in the doorway. I’d never slept in our bed alone, and to be honest I didn’t want to. I slowly walked in, and sat down on the corner of the bed, taking in the room. Soft blues were on the wall; each of our nightstands littered with different things; a book, a magazine, some lip chap, and a pair of earrings were on her side along with her clock and lamp, whereas mine just held the latest edition of Hockey News magazine and my spare phone charger. My bag still sat at the foot of the bed, but I didn’t move to unpack it. I felt strange, out of place even as I sat all alone and facing the thought of spending the night alone in here.

I always made time for Ashley, I always had; it was hard sometimes and I’d always felt bad when I couldn’t spend as much time as I wanted to, but that was the trade-off for the lifestyle I had. She knew that, and she’d told me she understood that.

And it’s not like I didn’t pay her any attention – we always talked, and on a day off I liked nothing better than cuddling up with her on the couch and watching a movie or going out to dinner together. And it’s not like the sex wasn’t still good. Granted it wasn’t happening as often or as creatively as it had in the past but I figured that was maybe because we were both just busy with other things and everybody says the sex cools down after you’re married, so I’d never given it a second thought.

I let out a sigh, before grabbing my pillow and a couple of blankets and heading back towards the living room. I couldn’t sleep in our bed alone, it just didn’t feel right. So I made up the couch and then stripped down to my boxers, not caring to put my clothes into the laundry hamper that sat just beside our closet doors.

Maybe Dan was right, maybe I was being stupid. But that didn’t change the fact she didn’t trust me. Relationships are built on trust, how could ours last this long without it? How come I didn’t know she didn’t trust me?

I kicked myself then. I knew she trusted me, I’d known since we were teenagers. I looked over onto the mantel, seeing the picture of the two of us as teens; it had been taken by one of her friends down by the lake. It didn’t take long for me to get lost in the memory as I closed my eyes, attempting to make myself comfortable on the couch.