Throwback

by Zeia Jameson

  Doing household chores with a baby strapped to my chest.

  Making dinner for Jeremy, just to put it in the fridge for him to eat later.

  I shouldn’t make him dinner every night, right? He’s a big boy. He can fend for himself.

  But I feel guilty. About everything. If I think about not making him dinner or not doing that last load of laundry or not cleaning the dishes in the sink, I feel guilty. I can’t even really explain why, but I do. And I feel guilty about how I’m raising Amelia. Am I doing it right? Is it enough? I have no clue about a lot of things, and God forbid I ask Rosalie. I get schooled about how perfect of a mother she is. And I know she doesn’t do it to be mean. Her intentions are good. But I don’t really give a crap about what kind of shampoo she used on Jeremy when he was a baby. Half of the things she suggests do not even exist anymore or have been overshadowed by something more technologically advanced. And then of course I feel guilty for having negative thoughts about Rosalie’s advice because I know she’s only trying to help.

  I just wish Jeremy was here. He keeps telling me that as soon as this project is done, his workload will slack off and he’ll be home more. He assures me that it’s only a few more weeks.

  I can do this a few more weeks. I can tough it out.

  But I’m so tired and when you are as tired as I am, things break down on a mental level. No concentration. No memory. And very little ability to just tough it out. I’m on the verge of a meltdown. I can feel it. And I’m scared and worried because I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t have a plan nailed down to be strong until Jeremy can jump into the trenches with me. I’m afraid of what might happen if I hit that point. That point of where I can’t take anymore and just lose it.

  Let me point out that I would never, ever do anything harmful to Amelia. That is not what I mean at all. I love that baby girl way too much to ever hurt her. She is the light of my life and the most precious little person ever created. It amazes me to watch her learn everything. How to blink and coo and how to control her arms and legs. You would have thought I was watching scientists split atoms when Amelia learned how to roll from her stomach to her back. I hooted and cheered and cried like I had just witnessed a miracle. But the fact of the matter is that I had witnessed a miracle. Amelia is a miracle. One that I thank God for every day. Watching her learn how to live is genuinely the most amazing experience of my life.

  But there are some moments when I have a glimpse of what Nancy may have gone through. The difficulties of having to care for someone and relinquish your own wants and needs. The drugs and alcohol gave her an outlet and an excuse not to give a fuck about my wellbeing. I’m terrified about whether I’ll ever reach that breaking point. The point where I’ll pick up a bottle of something and drink it until everything is blurred and my worries and guilt fly out the window. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since Amelia was born. At first, because I was nursing but then because I was afraid that one may lead to two which would lead to too many if I drank when I was stressed. I’ve done that a few times before. Like the time I drank half a bottle of Jim Beam when I wanted to tell Jeremy to leave me because I didn’t think I deserved him. I know I can’t do that now because for one it’s stupid, but also because I have a baby. A baby that needs me and I can’t just hide away in a room with a bottle and check out. I’m a responsible adult now with a husband and a child and I have to be a pillar. Stand strong. Suck it up.

  But dammit, all I want to do is crumble.

  It’s a Friday. Amelia and I have eaten dinner. She’s bathed and in bed and I’m praying she’ll sleep at least a few hours.

  Have I mentioned just how little that kid likes to sleep?

  I’ve tried everything. She has the most comfortable mattress I could find. A snuggly blanket. Lullaby music. Lavender bedtime lotion. Blackout curtains on her window. Soft, footie pajamas. A twelve hour, no leak diaper (that we’ve yet to be able to prove its claim), a binky and a teddy bear. If I could buy the kid ear plugs and an eye mask I would, but I assume that since they don’t make either of those items in infant size, it’s probably frowned upon.

  I’ve put Jeremy’s dinner in the fridge and am cleaning the kitchen when I hear the locks on the front door turn. I’m startled at first but then I peek around the corner and see Jeremy. I dry my hands off and run to him. “You’re home!” I plant my lips on his. I feel like I haven’t seen him in a month. I’ve seen him, in passing in the middle of the night. He usually sleeps on the couch when he gets home until I get up with Amelia and I wake him and drag him to bed. But I haven’t had a conversation with him for...weeks? We talk through texts. A quick “love you, miss you” or “omg look at what Amelia is doing now”. I honestly can’t believe he is standing before me right now, in the flesh.

  Wait. Am I dreaming? I reach out to his arm and pinch him gently.

  “Ow.” He smiles. “What was that about?” he asks while rubbing his arm.

  “Just want to see if you are real,” I smile back, “make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

  He pinches me back playfully, “You’re supposed to pinch yourself, I think.” He winks.

  “Oh right. Well, no matter. You are real and I’m not dreaming. I’m so glad you are home.” I hug him and I don’t want to let go ever. “I made you dinner. I just put it in the fridge.”

  He leans down and kisses me. “I don’t care. Is Amelia asleep?” He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him and he walks toward our bedroom.

  Our clothes are off in seconds. I’m lying there on the bed completely exposed and I suddenly feel very insecure.

  When’s the last time I washed my hair? Or shaved my legs? Or shaved my...

  “Livy? You ok?”

  I look Jeremy in the eye and nod. It’s been quite some time since Jeremy and I have had sex. I certainly didn’t expect him home so early tonight or I might have groomed myself better. I feel like a wooly mammoth and not very sexy at all. For some reason my left hand instinctively slides down to my stomach and grazes over my stretch marks.

  Jeremy is kissing me and I blank out. My mind completely leaves the scene. I’m supposed to be elated that my husband is home and we are naked together. However, not only has my confidence in my body waned, but my mind, as tired and attention deficient as it’s become, is thinking about a whirlwind assortment of other things. Not one of them is sex.

  ***

  28

  Jeremy

  I haven’t had sex with my wife in two months.

  Yes. Let me repeat that.

  I haven’t had sex with my wife in two months.

  I’ve thought about having sex with her at least a hundred times every day. Sometimes, more often than I’d like to admit really, I have to excuse myself at work for privacy to attempt to satisfy the desire I have for wanting to have sex with Livy and not being able to.

  I miss her so much. I want to take this opportunity to make up for all the time we’ve spent apart. I often question whether opening my own firm was a good idea. It’s been lucrative, yes, but I am never home. I told Livy this current project was rounding down to an end. However, I can’t promise that the next project won’t be bigger and more involved. I love my company and the work we do, but it’s killing me inside to be away from Livy and Amelia. I feel like I made a selfish decision and put myself before Livy. Of course, I didn’t know we would be expanding our family at the time I made the decision. But I did know I’d be working a lot more. I knew I would be spending less time with Livy going in. And now we have a baby girl that is growing faster than I ever imagined and Livy is doing it all on her own. And I feel like an asshole for that. But I really don’t know what I can do about it right now.

  I tried all day to get everything squared away so that I could get home before Livy went to bed. Coming through our front door to see her smiling face and feeling her arms around me made my head spin and my body instantly aroused. I carry her to the bedroom and get us both undressed as quickly as my hands allow.

  I
’m hovering over her, impatiently, and trying to make solid eye contact with her. I want to be inside of Livy more than I want to take another breath right now, but I want her to look at me. I want to see the look on her face. I want to see her eyes. I miss her eyes.

  “You ok?” I ask. She seems a little too pensive for our current predicament. But she looks at me and I see her beautiful eyes. She gives me a small grin and a nod. I lean up and give her a long, sensual kiss. I want her to feel just how much I’ve missed her. I make my way over to her neck and eventually down to her chest. My head is clouded with lust and all I want to do is have sex with my wife.

  My brain shuts down and another part of my body takes control. Before I realize what is really happening I am pushing my way inside of her, eagerly wanting the release I’ve fantasized about for so many days.

  The fantasy to have sex with my beautiful, sexy wife.

  I am looking at her beneath me. Her eyes are closed and her brow is wrinkled, as if she’s trying to concentrate. I need to slow down and help her get there too. She probably needs and wants this as much as I do, perhaps even more. But the thoughts about what I could do to make her writhe in pleasure and the look on her face from past encounters sit in my imagination and before I’m able to make any moves to bring her along for the ride, my body revolts against me and I feel everything rushing to one central location.

  And I’m done.

  Fuck.

  Livy never even made a sound. Not one moan or whimper of pleasure.

  The fantastic sensation I had moments ago quickly subsides and I immediately feel like an asshole.

  Livy’s eyes are still closed. I kiss her gently. “Babe. You ok?”

  She opens her eyes and looks at me. I can’t tell exactly what emotion is lying behind her gorgeous green pupils but it’s far from satisfaction.

  I have to make this right. I kiss her again while I formulate a plan but just as I’m about to put that plan into action, Amelia squeals through the monitor. Livy puts her hands to each side of my face and looks at me. She smiles but, it’s weak. “I need to go check on her.”

  I try to read her eyes once more but I can’t. I resign and simply nod in response. I move over to let Livy up. She grabs a t-shirt, throws it on and walks out the door.

  ~~~

  I wake up, lying on top of the comforter of the bed. Naked. The blanket that usually takes residence on the back of the sofa in the living room is covering about half of my body. I lift my head and look around. Livy is not in bed with me. I jump up and throw on some boxers and sweatpants. Livy is in the living room, lying on the floor next to Amelia who is laughing at a stuffed animal that’s playing music. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost 4:30 in the morning. “What are you guys doing up so early?” Livy looks up at me and blinks as if she’s trying to stay awake. “We’re always up this early. I’m almost used to it. Amelia hates to sleep.”

  Livy and I had gotten into a routine where I would come home, eat my leftovers, fall asleep on the couch so that I didn’t disturb Livy sleeping, Livy would wake me up around 1 or 2 and we’d go to bed together, us both being so tired that all we did when in the bed was sleep. I had offered several times to feed Amelia at night. At first, Livy said that it was just too cumbersome to try to pump during the day in order for me to be able to feed Amelia and let Livy sleep. Then, after Livy was done with nursing, I offered again and she told me that it was less of an effort to just get up and feed Amelia than it was to try to wake me up first to go feed her. Once I was asleep in the bed, I was dead to the world until my alarm went off. I couldn’t help it; I had always been a hard sleeper. I told her I felt bad about that but she waved it off and told me not to worry about it. She said I needed sleep more than she needed help because I had to get up and run a company all day, every day. When she told me that, I thought I detected a hint of passive aggressiveness in her voice, but I didn’t think on it too long. Livy wasn’t a passive aggressive person. She was always very direct and to the point, so I let it go and assured myself that I was mistaken.

  It had never dawned on me that Livy and Amelia got up so early in the morning. I suppose I just assumed that they got up around six or six-thirty, only a short time before I got up at seven. Livy never divulged that information to me until just now and I guess I just never thought to ask.

  I sit down on the floor beside her and move my hand through her hair. “Have you slept at all?” I ask. She nods, “I did. After I checked on Amelia, I came back to the bedroom and you were already asleep.” She looks over at me and smiles. “You were on your stomach and taking up the entire bed. I took a moment and stared at that gorgeous ass of yours and then I covered you up and came and slept on the couch. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want bother you.”

  At that moment I was riddled with guilt. Because what I felt like she should have said was, “After your three minute performance, where only one of us got off, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with you. I’d rather sleep uncomfortably on this ratty old couch than share a bed with you, you prick.”

  But, she did care enough to give me a blanket, so I guess maybe that’s not what she’s actually thinking.

  I clear my throat, “I uh...I’m sorry about last night. I was so excited to see you. To be with you. To be naked with you. It’s been so long. I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you too,” she says. “So much. And I know it’s been a while, but honestly I think I’m so tired that I just can’t get into it like I used to. It’s not the same as it was before Amelia was born. My body feels and looks different. I don’t feel sexy. My hygiene these days is sub-par at best. I don’t even know how you can even look at me and get excited to have sex.”

  Her words break my heart. She doesn’t think I’m an asshole. She thinks I shouldn’t be attracted to her. I pull on her arm, attempting to get her to come over to me. She responds and complies. I wrap her up in my arms. “Hey. I wouldn’t care if you quit shaving completely, banned deodorant from your medicine cabinet and took a daily bath in pig shit and skunk spray. You would still be my beautiful, sexy, amazing wife, who gave me this adorable little chunky baby girl. I love you, Livy. All of you. And if you could only imagine how many times a day I think about you naked, you wouldn’t doubt your sexiness for a second.”

  Livy turns her head and looks up at me. “Pig shit and skunk spray? Oh you are so full of shit. But I get your point. Thank you.” I kiss the top of her head. “Now, I want you to go get some sleep. As much as you want. Then, I want you to take a long, hot bath. Relax. Take your time. Amelia and I will hang out, eat a bunch of junk food and watch some R rated movies. And I’ll call Mom later and see if she will come over and stay with Amelia while you and I go out to dinner or something. Whatever you want to do. What do you think?”

  “Amelia usually eats at six. And then every four hours after. Eight ounce bottle of formula plus baby food, which is in the freezer. To thaw it out, you put the container halfway into hot water for about five minutes. There’s apples, bananas, carrots, peas...” She’s looking up at the ceiling, thinking, listing the food on her fingers. “Hey.” I grab her hand. “I got this. We will be fine. You go sleep.” I kiss her again, this time on the mouth. “Go. I love you. You need sleep. You need to reboot.”

  She nods her head. “I love you too. Thank you. For what you said and for being so sweet. You are a pretty awesome dad.” She looks down at the floor. “I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you too. Both of you. I promise as soon as this project is done, I’m taking a break.”

  “That sounds nice. I can’t wait.” She stands up from the floor. “You two have fun,” she says, as she heads to the bedroom and closes the door behind her.

  I can’t wait to spend time with her tonight. I’m hoping I can reach in and pull out the old Livy. My Livy. Pre-Amelia Livy. I need to reassure her that everything is going to be ok and work out in the long run. I know it’s not something I can do in one conversation over dinner, but I’m ho
ping it’ll at least be a start.

  ***

  29

  Livy

  I slept for eight hours. Straight through. When I woke up, at first I panicked. I had forgotten that Jeremy was home and spending time with Amelia. Then the memories of the early morning conversation came back to me and I exhaled. I looked over at the bedside clock. It was ten minutes until one o’clock in the afternoon. The comprehension that I had been sleeping in the middle of the day was difficult to drink in. I stretch my arms and yawn and throw my feet over the side of the bed. I feel so rested. Recharged. Better than I’ve felt in quite some time. I stand up and move to the door to go check on Jeremy and Amelia. I don’t hear any playing or crying. I don’t hear any noise at all and once again panic begins to set in. I open the bedroom door only to be relieved a second time. I am looking at the most precious sight I have ever witnessed. Jeremy is sleeping on the couch with Amelia sleeping on top of his chest. She’s lying on her stomach and one of her chunky little cheeks is pressed against his chest, enough so that her mouth is forced open. Her lips are pressed outward like she’s making a fish face. And there is a little bit of drool coming out of the side of her mouth and spreading onto Jeremy’s skin. My heart melts. I very quietly search for my phone and take a picture. Then I head back to the bedroom and run a bath, just as Jeremy instructed. I’m going to go all out. Pedicure. Manicure. Eyebrows. Facial. Deep hair conditioning. I’m going to shave places I haven’t shaved in months. I am going to come out of this bathroom smelling like peaches and looking like sin and I am going to spend a long, sexy evening with my husband. Maybe we’ll get wrapped up in one of our random strange conversations like we used to. We haven’t done that in forever.

  I miss that.

  I miss him.

  I miss us.