Love Me More

by R. S. Medina

  I don't say anything. I want Billy to shut the fuck up with his comments about Blair, but it's just easier to let Billy say his piece and move on. He gets weird and territorial when it comes to chicks, and I don't feel like letting him pout all day when I tell him Blair was my girl and never his. I pull out my phone and check to see if she's accepted my requests yet. She has, and she read my message I sent her on Snapchat.

  I start scrolling through her Instagram feed. I'd say ninety percent of her pictures are of her daughter. The rest are selfies or pictures she's taken randomly. There are a few pictures of who I assume is her husband. He's tall and looks severe. He doesn't smile much. I take another swig of beer to distract myself from a twinge of jealousy. I pull up a picture of her and her daughter. The picture highlights her blue eyes perfectly. They remind me of the ocean. Her eyes have always been my favorite part of her.

  I double tap that picture and the "like" heart pops up on the screen.

  Past

  I haven't showered or eaten, but I finally started bleeding. Instead of taking the pill the doctor offered me to help things along, I opted to abort naturally, although I cringe when I think the term "abort." I felt like it would help me to let my body process the baby and grieve like I was supposed to. It took a few agonizing days. I hated my body for not doing the one thing it was supposed to do–keep that tiny baby alive. And for my body to take that long to realize it had failed was frustrating.

  I don't know how Finn managed it, but he didn't go to work today. Instead, he has laid in bed, stroked my hair and watched movies on Netflix with me all day. He pulled our bedroom curtains closed to block out the sunlight, and he cocooned us in a wall of pillows and a pile of soft blankets. He hasn't pressured me into talking. He's just let me lie here and cry. He's brought me food and heating pads and medicine when my cramps got too unbearable. But I want to feel the pain. I want to punish myself for losing the baby. To feel it physically like I do mentally.

  I appreciate his understanding. But I hate that he's not grieving with me. It was his baby too, but I feel so alone in this sorrow.

  Finn wants to try again as soon as possible. And I understand, but it makes me feel like the death of this baby didn't matter to him. This baby mattered, damn it. But there is a yearning I can't explain, the deep, painful ache and desire to be a mother now. I feel like my womb physically aches with the lack of a baby. I can't shake it.

  No one prepared me for how bad this was going to hurt—mentally and physically. It's funny. I'm not going through childbirth, and this shit hurts. My stomach is cramping, and it's a constant reminder of what is happening. The pain to my heart is debilitating. The only thing making this okay is Finn sitting here stroking my hair. He knows how much I love my hair to be played with and hasn't complained to do so all day.

  Past

  It's been a couple of months since Blair lost the baby. She's doing better and has moved on, for the most part. She still has her bad days where she's angry that we haven't gotten pregnant again, but part of me wonders if it's meant to be right now. Maybe there's a reason we haven't gotten pregnant? I mean, what if I'm not meant to be a dad? Honestly, the idea of becoming a dad is terrifying. I don't know how to be one, not the way Blair knows how to be a mom. It seems like that shit is instinctual for her.

  My day started off roughly after Blair and I fought this morning. She forgot to put water in the coffee pot, so the coffee wasn't ready. When I pointed that out, she snapped at me. She's particularly crabby lately, and when I called her out on being irritable with me, she started bawling—at the drop of a fucking hat. I just rolled my eyes. Okay, crazy. It must be that time of the month.

  To add to that, all she wanted to do was sleep yesterday on my day off, which was irritating. We were supposed to see a movie for date night, but she asked that we stay home and rent a movie instead. Maybe she's not coping with losing the baby and not getting pregnant again as well as I thought she was?

  I drove to the base and walked into work today a little pissy about the coffee and fight. To add the fucking cherry on top of this shit storm of a day, I was told by my commanding officer that my platoon is deploying, and soon.

  We usually get more notice, but when we get the call, we go. I'll be deploying in a month. Oo-fucking-rah. Now I get to go home and tell my already devastated wife. Can we not catch a fucking break? This will be my second deployment. Blair handled the first deployment well, but part of me is worried about how she will handle this one with the obvious depression she's experiencing. I'll be gone, so our family planning plans will be pushed back even farther, and I know she won't be thrilled.

  I slam my car door after pulling into our driveway, and that doesn't make me feel any better, so when I close the front door, I slam that too, so hard the windows rattle. When Blair hears the door, she comes flying down the stairs with more energy than I've seen in a while. Her cheeks are flushed, and she's smiling.

  "How was your day?" she asks breathlessly, wrapping her arms around me. She steps onto my black steel toed boots like she always does, and pulls herself up on her tiptoes and stretches her short body to kiss me. I peck her on the lips warily. I'm not sure who the fuck this Blair is because the Blair I left this morning was an emotional mess. I didn't think I'd be coming home to this happy-as-shit, perky Blair.

  "It fucking sucked," I say, hanging my car keys up on the key rack next to the door. She hops off my boots, and stands wringing her hands but smiling. She's super fidgety. She's up to something.

  "I got some bad news today," I say, not looking at her. I walk to the kitchen and sit down on a chair at the table to start taking my boots off.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," she says, following on my heels. "But if it makes you feel any better, I got some good news today," she says, trying so hard not to bounce up and down. She does not have a poker face. When she gets excited about something, you can read it all over her face and in her energy.

  "Okay," I say, too exhausted to care about anything trivial she wants to share. I know I'm going to have to destroy her when I tell her about the scheduled deployment. "You first," I tell her. I know she won't be able to contain herself.

  "Okay," she says, and the smile she gives me almost makes me forget how shitty today was. She can be adorable. She bounces over to the other side of the kitchen, and says, "I got you something," smiling so hard her face is lit up.

  I look around, not seeing anything different. "What is it?" I ask, not sure what she's talking about. I finish unlacing my boots and set them to the side, stretching my toes out. It feels good to be out of those boots.

  "Look in the oven," she says, so full of energy she's literally bouncing on her heels. She can't contain herself. "Go look," she says, pointing to the oven. It's not on. I'm too exhausted for games, but I pull myself out of the chair and walk over to open the oven.

  And in the oven, there is a full pack of hamburger buns still in their plastic package.

  "Blair, what the fuck is..." I say, pulling the buns out of the oven and holding them up.

  Buns. In. The. Oven.

  Holy fuck.

  I spin around, and she's grinning from ear to ear, her beautiful straight teeth showing. She's bouncing up and down, hands clasped together.

  "Blair, are you pregnant?" I ask in disbelief.

  She nods, laughing.

  "I didn't realize I was late until after you went to work today," she says, laughing. "It explains all the exhaustion and crying!" she says, springing to me and draping her arms around me. "I'm about four weeks along," she says proudly. She's radiant.

  I'm too shocked to wrap my arms around her.

  We're pregnant.

  And I'm deploying.

  Which means I probably won't be here for the birth and makes the news I'm about to deliver to her even harder.

  Present

  I'm trying to wrangle Olivia and simultaneously put away groceries—she's not making this easy today. I'm totally breaking a sweat trying to keep her occupied
and from pulling out all my pots, pans, and Tupperware, while simultaneously putting all my groceries away. She wants me to hold her, and she's almost crawling up my leg while also pulling my pants down.

  Just as I'm righting my pants, the front door opens, and Chastity, Finn's sister enters.

  "Oh, thank God you're here!" I say as I walk toward Chazz to pass Olivia off. Only Chazz would walk in without even knocking to announce herself. Olivia is super excited to see her Aunt Chazz and starts kicking her little arms and legs trying to squirm her way to her. Apparently, Miss Olivia doesn't think I'm getting her to her aunt fast enough.

  Chazz holds her arms out to take Olivia and smiles. "Is my favorite niece acting like a little shit today?" she asks with a laugh. She flips her long, ombre-colored hair over her shoulder so Olivia won't pull on it.

  "You have no idea," I admit with a sigh, frustrated after trying to unload and put up groceries and deal with her. How do I not have fucking amazingly sculpted arm muscles after wrestling a baby all the time? This is totally unfair. My arms and shoulders should be ripped because I broke a huge sweat trying to carry groceries and juggle Olivia. When did she get so heavy?

  "You're getting so big!" Chazz says to Olivia as if reading my thoughts. Olivia is squirming to be put down, but Chazz just keeps bouncing her around and playing with her, trying to keep her distracted as long as possible to give me a small reprieve. Olivia just doesn't know what she wants to do with herself, and we are all paying the price for it. Teething is a bitch. At least she waited to get home from the store to act like this. It's the little things, right?

  I walk back into the kitchen and continue putting away groceries while Olivia is preoccupied temporarily—who knows how long this respite will last. I don't even bother to make sure everything in the pantry is organized, as long as it's put away before Olivia wants my attention again.

  "So what are you doing here?" I yell from the kitchen to Chazz.

  Chazz comes around the corner with Olivia in her arms. "I came to raid your closet. I wanted to borrow that cardigan you wore last week."

  "You know where my closet is," I tell her, giving her permission. She's always borrowing clothes, which is surprising because she is way more stylish than I am. But it's not like I can fit into most of them after my pregnancy, anyway. I should probably get rid of or donate them, but I keep telling myself that I'll wear them again. Chazz turns to go to my bedroom, and I hear her come out a few seconds later with the cardigan and a skirt in her hand.

  "I'm also borrowing this," she laughs, turning to show me. I just nod. "So how is everything with my brother and you?" she asks. She knows how hard things have been lately. As my sister-in-law, she's the closest thing I have to a sister since I don't have any siblings of my own. She has also grown to become my best friend.

  "Eh. I'm not sure," I say shrugging. "I think part of him wants a divorce," I admit, although I'm not sure that's true. He's not trying to leave, but he's definitely not trying to stay.

  "Well, I mean, it's never ideal, but you guys could make it work," Chazz says. "I'm sure he doesn't want a divorce, though. When Mom and Dad divorced, it was hard on him."

  "I know, but I can't really relate," I say. "My parents are still together."

  "Hopefully, this is just a rough patch, and you guys can make it work," Chazz says with a hopeful tone in her voice. She loves Finn, and she loves Olivia and me. The last thing she would want is for Finn and me to divorce.

  "Is he still looking for a job?" she asks.

  I nod. The job search isn't going well. When Finn got medically discharged from the Marines, he was heartbroken. Finn was in for five years, but he was a Devil Dog through and through. Finn was ready to be a lifer, to make the Marines his career. It was his career, his life. And he wasn't ready to give it up, but sometimes we aren't given a choice. After three nearly back to back deployments in the Middle East, I guess his behavior was so erratic that even his command couldn't overlook it. He was given mandatory orders to be evaluated, and he was diagnosed with PTSD, which meant he was medically discharged. His transition to civilian life has been... hard, to say the least. I'm almost certain he's struggling with depression, although he would never admit it. Admitting it would be a sign of weakness, and Finn is never weak. Finn's view on depression is that you get your ass up and work out to feel better. His motto leaves him in excellent shape, which I appreciate, but sometimes it's just not enough to work out and feel better.

  Part of the problem is that Finn was sure that his military experience would transfer well to civilian life, but nothing is working out for him here in the civilian life. Jobs haven't been easy to come by, and Finn is too proud to subject himself to fast food or jobs that you get as a teenager.

  "No one will call him back," I add. "And my job isn't making enough to support us, so money is a super touchy subject right now."

  "Well, if there is anything I can do to help, let me know." Chazz offers. Chazz puts Olivia on the ground and Olivia bolts straight for me. Who knew toddlers could crawl so freaking fast? Chazz scoops her up before she can start pulling on my pants again.

  "Guess who I ran into today?" I ask, changing the subject.

  "Who?"

  "Tristan," I say dramatically. I watch for her reaction.

  "No fucking way!" Chazz says, surprised. "Tristan, as in your ex, Tristan? Oh, my God! I thought he wasn't in town anymore? Was it awkward?"

  "No, not really. It was great to see him. He asked me to have a drink with him sometime," I admitted.

  "Um, you're married," Chazz reminds me like she's already judging me. She's very protective of her brother.

  "No shit, I didn't say yes," I respond a little bit defensively. I don't tell her that I didn't have a chance to answer or refuse the invite, or that a tiny, inconsequential part of me wanted to say yes, but I wouldn't have. She's already up in arms about another man encroaching on her brother's territory. I can see the warning in her eyes.

  "How do you think Finn will feel about all this?" Chazz asks, raising an eyebrow.

  "He probably wouldn't even fucking care," I say, feeling a little bit bitter. I've always wanted him to be at least a little jealous. "He's the least jealous person I know," I admit. "Nothing makes him jealous. It's like he doesn't even care."

  "He cares, I'm sure," she tries to reassure me, her eyes kind. If anyone knows how her brother can be, it's Chastity.

  "No, he doesn't. One time his best friend hit on me at one of our house parties, and I told him, and he didn't do or say anything about it. He just shrugged it off. What the hell? If it were me, I'd freak out and be insanely jealous!"

  When I told Finn that his best friend had made a pass at me while he was drunk, Finn got quiet, and after a moment shrugged and told me, "Oh well, you told me," and never brought it up again. I mean, I know it was Finn that I went home with at the end of the night, but still, if it was my friend making a pass at my husband, I would do more than just shrug. But then again, I care more, and I'm also insanely jealous and protective of what is mine.

  Chazz shrugs. "Are you going?" I can tell by her nonchalance, she's on fire with curiosity, and silently daring me to go. She knows I won't.

  "No. I mean that would just be wrong and weird, right?"

  "Right," she agrees, relieved with my answer.

  "God, my dad wanted to kill him for breaking my heart," I reminisce. "Dad was pissed. Dad overreacted, though. He totally embarrassed me!"

  "Nah," she dismisses, "he was just protecting you. You've always been a daddy's girl." Chastity and I became close after Finn and I started dating. We spent nearly every day together when Finn was in boot camp. She has spent more time with my family and me than my husband has. She might as well be my dad's daughter as well. She's heard all of our family stories—it's like she was there for all of them.

  "Yeah, but having the whole school find out that your dad threatened your boyfriend because he broke up with you for not sleeping with him was so embarrassing. People tho
ught I was such a prude."

  "Oh, whatever," Chazz says, acting like I'm overdramatizing the situation. I wasn't, but whatever. Tristan had shown up at my house after breaking up with me, and Dad answered the door. Apparently, someone had let it slip to my father that I was heartbroken because Tristan broke up with me because I wouldn't put out. I don't know if that was the real reason or not. But Dad was outraged.

  Whatever Dad said was enough to make sure that was the end of our relationship. Dad must have put the fear of God into him because we stopped talking, and we both moved on and started dating other people. Dad threatening Tristan ended up being the talk of the school. And people wanted to know why my dad threatened him. Of course, people found out that the rumor was we broke up because I wouldn't put out. Small towns and small high schools are awful.

  In high school, you can't win. You're either a prude for not sleeping around, or a whore for sleeping around. I guess, for me, I made the right choice. I'd rather be a prude.

  "You're obviously not a prude anymore," Chazz says tickling Olivia, making Olivia squeal in delight.

  "Speaking of being a prude, I haven't been laid in like three weeks," I admit, sadly.

  "What? Why not?" Chazz asks incredulously.

  "Finn won't even touch me. He told me the other day that we fight too much to even want to have sex," I admit. Chazz has never had a problem talking about my sex life. She always jokes that she compartmentalizes with me. When it's just me and her, I'm not with her brother. I'm just a girlfriend, talking about sex and regular marriage issues. It's great though, because my best friend also has insight into my husband and has known him since birth, and often knows him better than he knows himself, so she gives great advice. It's the best of both worlds.

  "Has he ever stopped to consider maybe you guys are fighting so much because you're not having sex?" Chazz asks.