Brielle
I’m sitting on the sofa as the movie plays on the television. It’s Thursday night-date night-but we’re home. I didn’t get my email invitation this week and that hurt. Sammy is snuggled up beside me while Will is lying on the floor. Julian is sitting in his wingback chair with his book, uninterested in what we are doing.
It’s been a week since we had our fight about marriage and babies, and we haven’t discussed it since. I’m too scared to bring the subject up.
Julian has pulled away from me.; the force field is back up. His heart is locked safely back into the freezer, never to be defrosted. I know he’s scared, terrified that he’s going to be trapped in a loveless marriage again.
But that marriage would be to me, and it hurts that he doesn’t trust me enough to let himself fall.
Maybe he will. Maybe he will come to me any day now, and the two of us can sit and openly talk about it. He can explain why he feels the way he does. But until he does, there’s a huge elephant in the room, in our bed, everywhere between us.
“I’m going out with the boys tomorrow night straight from work,” he says quietly as he continues to read his book.
I turn and watch him until he looks up at me, and I raise a brow in question.
“Mother will have the children, so you can go out if you wish.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
His eyes hold mine. I just want to scream and call him a coward, but I’ll only push him further away.
“I won’t be late,” he says after a moment.
I nod and turn back to the television. The lump in my throat hurts again as I try to hold in my tears. I can’t stand this. Screaming, yelling, or anything would be better than this.
My mind goes to Alina. Is this what she dealt with? The silent treatment?
While he fucked prostitutes on the side.
Stop it.
I close my eyes in disgust. Stop thinking about her. This is different. He loves me. He wouldn’t do that to me, I know he wouldn’t.
Would he?
I kiss Sammy on the head. “I’m going to bed, baby.” I stand. “Goodnight, Will,” I say.
Julian doesn’t say anything.
“Night, Brell,” Will and Sammy call.
I walk into my room, get into the shower, and I cry.
I can’t stop thinking about Alina and worrying that we’re falling into that same pattern. He’s hardly touched me in a week, and we haven’t made love once.
He’s pulled away from me without any regret.
I scrunch my eyes together and let the tears roll down my face. My heart feels like it’s being torn out of my body in slow motion.
Maybe my fairy tale is already over.
“Come on,” I laugh as I run about outside with Tillie at the end of the driveway. It’s 4:00 p. m. and Willow is still at work while Sammy is at his little friend’s until later tonight, after dinner.
Julian came to my bed last night, and we made love. Well, not really. We basically fucked with no emotion attached to it. But I felt like he was sad, too. We laid in silence after we were finished, clinging to each other, as if hoping the other one would take back what they said last week.
I can’t take mine back because it’s true, I do want children. I may not be gifted them by God’s hand, but I want to at least try. I can live without marriage, but motherhood… not so much.
The mailman pulls up and I smile and wave as he hands me the letters.
“How are you today?” he asks me.
“Fine, thanks.” I smile. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“It is, it is. See you later.”
“Come on, Tillie.” I begin to walk back to the house as I flick through the envelopes. Boring, boring, boring. I come to a letter in cream paper.
Julian Masters.
I turn the letter over to see who the sender is.
Dr Edwards.
Rosedale Clinic.
Hmm, I wonder what that is? I continue to look at the letter as I walk back up to the house. I stop to take out my phone and I Google Dr. Edwards, Rosedale clinic.
Dr Edwards is the leading vasectomy specialist in London.
My heart roars, racing wildly in my chest.
No. He wouldn’t?
I run back to the house with the letter in my hand. I put it onto the kitchen bench and stare at it.
My blood is pumping hard through my body as I begin to pace. Why is he getting a letter from this doctor? For fifteen minutes, I stare at it until curiosity gets the best of me and I tear open the envelope.
Mr. Masters,
Thank you for your enquiry this week regarding our vasectomy services. Please find below a quote as requested. Your initial appointment is on the 17th and then the procedure is booked for the 25th as requested.
The words go blurry as tears fill my eyes, and I put my hand over my mouth.
He’s going to have a vasectomy without telling me.
I stagger back in shock.
Oh… this hurts.
I grab the car keys, and I get in the car and with the letter in my hand. There’s no thought as I tear down the driveway.
He wants a fight. He just fucking got one.
I speed to the courthouse with my heart beating wildly the whole journey there. He wouldn’t do this to me. I know he wouldn’t.
He loves me.
Why am I even going to see him when I know that there must be a reasonable explanation for this? Maybe he’s getting a reversal? Yes!
My eyes widen. Yes, of course.
My face falls. No, that’s not it. We used condoms in the beginning because he was scared he was going to get me pregnant. If he’d already had a vasectomy he wouldn’t have been worried about that at all.
My stomach rolls and the tears well again. He’s going out tonight with his friends. I can’t deal with not knowing what’s going on.
I need to talk to him.
I glance down at the letter on the seat, I screw up my face in tears and I sniff loudly.
He wouldn’t.
I stop at the traffic lights and I glance at my watch. Shit, hurry up.
If I don’t catch him as he’s walking to his car, I won’t know where he is, and I am not having this conversation over the phone. I need to see his face when I confront him.
I glance at the car next to me. The lady is looking at my crying face with a worried expression.
No, I’m not okay, bitch.
I shake my head and wipe my eyes with my forearm.
I know this has to be a misunderstanding. He wouldn’t do this to me. Of course he wouldn’t because that would be the end of us and he knows that.
Please don’t let this be the end of us.
I’m not ready to let him go.
Please, please, please, baby. Don’t let this be true.
I turn into the underground parking lot and I drive around until I see his car in his reserved parking space.
He’s still here.
I park my car and get out with the letter gripped firmly in my hand. I glance down at my watch. It’s 4:30 p. m and he’s finished for the day. He should be coming out at any moment. I walk over to his car and lean on it and I wait.
Twenty minutes later, he appears, talking and walking beside another man in an expensive suit. I immediately stand up straight, my racing heart driving me wild. He glances up and frowns when he sees me.
“See you later,” he says to his friend as he walks over to me. His eyes hold mine, and I know he can tell I’ve been crying, “What’s up?” he asks.
I should say something intelligent, or ask a calm question-anything that will help me not look like a complete lunatic-but I just don’t have it in me.
I hold up the letter. “You tell me.”
He frowns, takes the letter out of my hand and reads it. His eyes come back up to my face and he rubs his tongue over his teeth.
“You opened my mail?”
“Tell me it’s not true,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and opens his car to throw his briefcase in his trunk, slamming it shut with an almighty thud. “This is not the time or place to discuss this,” he says calmly.
“Is it true?” I scream, completely losing control.
He puts his hands into his suit pockets and swallows the lump in his throat. “Yes.” I stagger back from him, shocked. “What?” I whisper. Pain shoots through my chest.
He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “I told you… I don’t want any more children.” I stare at him in shock, his silhouette blurred because of my tears. “So you were going to just do this without telling me?” I whisper.
He drops his chin to his chest. “No, I was going to tell you.”
“To make me leave?” I frown.
His haunted eyes rise to mine.
I screw up my face. “You said that you loved me,” I whisper.
“I do.”
I sob loudly, all my control gone.
He steps forward. “Bree, baby.” He pauses. “We… we’re at different stages of our lives. We want different things.”
I frown, the tears still rolling down my face.
Is this happening?
“I can’t give you what you want,” he confesses sadly. “I wish I could. I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I whisper. “You just don’t want to.”
His jaw clenches. “You’re right. I don’t.”
If he hit me with an axe, it would be less painful. I gasp as my chest constricts.
I step back from him. How can he knowingly hurt me like this?
Oh, my God, I need to get away from him.
He steps forward, taking me into his arms, and I screw up my face and let myself cry. My shoulders are shaking violently. “Baby, listen to me,” he whispers into my hair. “I love you. More than anything, I love you. But I can’t go back there.”
“I don’t want you to go back there,” I sob. “I’m not Alina, Julian. Stop punishing me for her mistakes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Anger hits me all at once, and I pull out of his arms. “Well, you have!” I cry.
“It’s my body.” He snaps.
“It’s mine, too,” I whisper. “How could you take away my chance of happiness without even talking to me about it?”