On and On

I’m getting out of bed for the first time since the funeral, which was four days ago. I haven’t eaten anything, much to Joe’s dismay, he’s made food that I refused to eat, he’s gotten angry and yelled, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’ve only spoken to tell Joe I didn’t want to eat and ask him to leave me alone. The only reason I’m getting up is due to the sickness in my empty stomach.

I find myself heaving over the toilet unable to force anything out but yellow bile, the only thing filling my stomach. I begin coughing back sobs as the burn takes over my entire throat, making it feel raw. I slink into a heap on the cold tile and curl my knees up to my chest taking short, shallow breaths. The house is empty, Joe left to take the kids back to Denise for the day, they spent all yesterday and last night here, but I didn’t pay much attention to them.

I guess Joe got the idea and took them back to her so he could take care of me. As the realization sunk in that I had practically ignored my kids, making no effort to spend time with them when I hadn’t seen them for more than ten minutes in the past week, my cries became harder. At the moment, not only did I feel horrible, I was horrible. A horrible mother, a horrible wife, a horrible person.

I don’t know how long I laid there crying, but at some point I felt two strong arms snaking around me, instantly recognizing them as Joe’s he pulled me close to him, softly whispering in my ear that everything would be okay. I gave him control of my weak body, clutching his shirt and holding on tightly. I felt the softness of the mattress underneath me and his warm body slip in next to mine.

He propped himself up on his elbow and I gave into his soothing voice telling me to breathe, to take deep breaths. He softly pushed the hair away from my face. “Are you alright?” He asked softly. I tried not to look into his pained, worried and tired eyes, knowing that I had caused them to look that way. Instead I focused on his face, his stubble surrounding his mouth and covering his chin and running along his jaw, his disheveled hair, and the dark circles under his eyes.

His appearance was all too much for me and I turned over, not wanting to look at the mess he had become because he was too worried about me to care about himself. I felt him slide off the bed and heard his feet padding down the stairs. I instantly regretted ignoring him, missing the feeling of his comforting presence next to me. I flung my arms over my face, focusing as hard as I could on breathing so I wouldn’t have to think of anything else.

A while later I heard his footsteps climbing the stairs again. I opened my eyes just in time to see his dark hair peek through the crack in the door. He made his way to the bed and held a bowl out in front of me. I let the cheesy aroma filter into my nose, instantly recognizing it as macaroni and cheese. My comfort food. He set the bowl in his lap and picked up the spoon that held the cheesy noodles, slowly trying to bring it to my mouth, cupping his hand under it, careful not to drop any in our bed.

I kept my mouth tightly closed and averted my eyes away from his, not wanting to see the disappointment flash into his eyes. He sighed and I heard the spoon clank back into the bowl and him set it on the nightstand. “Kayden.” He spoke softly. I made no response, the hesitation and pain in his voice enough to make me want to bawl my eyes out. He flipped himself over me so he was laying in front of me, his legs draped over mine, his calloused fingertips lightly rubbing up and down my arm.

“Baby.” He said, his voice low and sweet, “Please look at me.” I took a deep breath, unable to deny his pleading voice and let my eyelids lift open. I was able to see his big brown eyes staring back at me through my eyes, thick with tears. I blinked a few times and he trailed his fingertips up my neck, letting them dance along my face. “Sweetie, I know you’re hurting. I know that.” He said softly. “But please, for me, please eat something.” I stayed silent. “Kayden, you’re starting to scare me.”

I reached up and set my hand on top of his, lacing our fingers together and letting my eyes close. “Please.” He begged again, his voice slightly cracking. I couldn’t look at his pleading eyes anymore, they were making me feel more guilty than I already did. I took my hand from his and set it atop the comforter. I felt him abruptly move and opened my eyes slowly to see him standing above me next to the bed. I was surprised I couldn’t hear his teeth grinding together his jaw was clenched so tight.

“I won’t do it Kayden.” He said, his voice hard, “I won’t.” I let my brow furrow and he leaned over, yanking me into a sitting position and sitting in front of me. “If it was just you it’d be different. I wouldn’t be okay with it—I’m not okay with it.” He shook his head running his hand through his already messy hair, causing it to clump on one side. I wanted to reach out and comb my fingers through it but something told me it wasn’t a good time.

“God damn it Kayden, I’ve tried it all, I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve been here for you, I’ve tried everything I could, but you, YOU have to try. You have to care.” He said sternly. “Now it’s not just you.” He said picking up the bowl of mac and cheese. “You are carrying my child.” He said glancing down at my swollen stomach. “—our child.” He said softer. His eyes caught mine again and turned hard, “I won’t let you hurt it—or yourself anymore. You can hate me, you can yell and kick and scream and fight me—I don’t care—but I won’t let you do it.” He said shaking his head, a stray tear falling down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away “I won’t.” He repeated, much softer, more to himself than anything.

It was like everything hit me at once, how selfish I was being. How I was hurting the child that was growing inside of me, how I had neglected my children, who couldn’t even begin to understand this and more importantly my husband who’d been here for everything and who had done more for me in the past few days than he would ever know by just being next to me.

I gulped, “Joe—I—” He shook his head and picked up the spoon, holding it out to me, “Just eat.” He said, his sad eyes boring into mine. I slightly opened my mouth, never letting my eyes leave his and allowed him to slide the spoon into my mouth. I closed my eyes and savored the taste of actually having food in my mouth and instead of my body rejecting it like I thought it would, the small bite landed on my stomach and I instantly craved more. I opened my eyes only to find that there was already another bite waiting for me. I eagerly took it and within the next five minutes the spoon dropped into the empty bowl.

Without another word, he silently got up and left the room. Figuring he was mad at me for the whole ordeal, I turned over, pulling the blankets closer around my body and curling my knees into my chest. I let the tears slowly slip down my face, knowing I hurt Joe was like a slap to the face, and knowing I made him cry was almost unbearable, but knowing that I had hurt him so bad he didn’t even want to talk to me, much less be in the same room I was in, was killing me.

I thought about McKenna, Milo, and Braden and how much I missed their tiny laughter echoing through the house. I missed hearing them cry, I missed their toys laying everywhere, I missed their early good mornings and their sloppy kisses. I wanted to see them. I needed to see them.

I got up and slowly pushed myself up, making my way to the hall. I listened to silence of the house around me. I made my way down the steps and into the kitchen, that was clean, the bowl that held my macaroni and the pot it was made in left, sitting on a dishtowel to dry. I looked around, no Joe. I glanced up at the small table by the back door and saw his set of keys missing. I walked over, looking out into the garage, hoping he had just left his keys in his jeans pocket, but the new, black, shiny, sleek Range Rover, I had just bought to replace his old one for his birthday was missing from it’s spot next to mine.

It’s funny how your feelings can go from broken to willed to do something, and back to broken and down. I felt my heart sink and glanced around, he left no note. He always left a note, he always called, he always let me know, but he didn’t. I let my head drop, realizing that I had become too much to handle and he needed to get away. In a way I understood, but it still didn’t make it hurt any less.

I trudged back up the stairs, hating the feeling growing in my stomach, the emptiness. I was alone and I hated it. I wondered why he had just left. Maybe he had a plausible reason, maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion, maybe I was just too emotional at the moment so I was paranoid. Maybe. But, maybe I AM too much too handle, maybe he just needed to talk to someone, he did that, he probably went to see Nick or Kevin. Then something unwanted forced it’s way into my head, maybe he went to talk to her just because she’s so easy for him to talk to.

My stomach churned at the thought and I pushed it away, he couldn’t…he wouldn’t…he promised…I was just emotional…that’s all. I fell onto our bed, sprawling out and throwing the covers over my body, “Everything’s fine.” I whispered to myself, but something inside me didn’t believe one word that left my mouth.