by R. S. Medina
"What are you doing here?" I ask him. "I thought you were staying at your parents until we got some perspective."
Finn stands up, and he's towering over me. "If you haven't forgotten, this is my house too, Blair. I can be here if I want to." And he stomps off to the bedroom.
Now that I'm sure that Olivia is okay, I settle in. I take my shoes off and put my purse away. Olivia is playing with some toys and eating Cheerios off the ground even though we put them in a bowl for her. I just let her do what she wants—it's not going to kill her.
Finn comes back dressed in his running gear. I can't help but check out his legs even though I want to punch a fucking hole through his chest for his attitude. He places his ear buds in his ears and speaks loudly to me. "I'm going for a run," he says.
I just nod. He heads out. I start trying to figure out what to throw together for me and Olivia for dinner, when the front door opens. I look expecting it to be Finn, but it's Chazz.
"Hey," I say, dejectedly, not in the mood for company. I'd rather strangle Finn and then take a long nap. But he went for a run and I'm left finding something to cook for our daughter. Thanks for the help, I scream internally at Finn sarcastically. I hope he can telepathically hear how pissed I am. I hope it gives him a headache.
"What's up?" she asks, going straight to the fridge. She opens it, scavenging for something to eat or drink. There isn't much in there. I haven't had much time to grocery shop. Instead, she pulls a glass down from the cabinet and pours herself some water from the tap. She takes a sip and leans against the counter.
"Not much. Trying to find something to feed Olivia for dinner," I tell her. "Would it make me a shit mom to buy her a fucking happy meal from McDonald's?" I sigh. I don't want to be that parent.
"Feeding her one happy meal isn't going to make you a bad parent," Chazz laughs. "In fact, that poor child has been deprived. I can't believe you haven't bought that poor girl chicken nuggets."
I nod, emotionally exhausted from my day. "Chicken nuggets for dinner it is, then!" I say. I try not to think about how unhealthy McDonald's is. There isn't one fruit or vegetable in there. At least Olivia will be fed. I'll do better tomorrow.
"So what's going on with you and Finn? Dad won't tell me, but I know Finn was sleeping over there. What's up," Chazz says, no-nonsense.
I sigh. I don't want to go into this with her. She might be my best friend, but she's Finn's sister. I don't know what to tell her.
"We got into a fight, and he left," I say simply. I can tell though that answer isn't going to appease her by the serious look she gives me. She waves her hand at me to signal more information.
"About...?" she prompts. She puts her empty glass in the sink.
"I don't even remember," I admit. And I know that it sounds petty and stupid, but it's the small things that end up adding up and weighing the most. It's the small things that can have the most impact. And to be honest, our issues aren't even small issues. It's big issues piled one on top of the other.
Finn has never been good with change. He loved being a Marine, and when that was taken away from him, he was lost. That, on top of his PTSD that he refuses to get help for, on top of having to move home and adjust to civilian life, on top of having a new baby, on top of not being attracted to your wife anymore. One of those things can be hard enough to deal with by themselves. In fact, looking at all those problems listed like that makes me shocked that we have remained intact and together this long. It's an accomplishment. Maybe we are a little bit stronger that I thought we were? Or are we just too stubborn to let something die?
"That's fucking stupid," Chazz says. I can't disagree. But she's also not married to her brother.
"You know Finn," I remind her. "He has a temper. When we both get heated like that, shit goes south." She nods and raises her eyebrows in agreement like she can't argue with that statement.
"Still," she says, pursing her lips. "He loves you. And you love him. Stop being fucking stupid and make this work. You guys have Olivia. It will get better."
I sigh and look at her. "It's not that simple. I wish it were, but it's not. Finn won't go to counseling. And I can't make him get help if he doesn't want to help himself."
Chazz walks across the kitchen and takes my hand in hers. She looks up at me. "Blair, he loves you. Don't give up on him just yet. He needs you. I know he acts like a hard ass and says he doesn't, but he does. Don't let him push you away," she says softly. "I know he's a dick and hard headed. But you guys will get through this. And you'll come out stronger than ever. Don't give up just yet. Don't let him move back to Dad's." She squeezes my hand. Then her face lights up. "Take tomorrow night off from being responsible adults. I'll watch Olivia for you guys. Go out, have a date. Spend time together. You guys need it," she says encouraging me to agree with her.
I squeeze her hand back. I know she's right. If we have any hope of saving this marriage, we need to try and find ourselves as a couple again.
I guess the real question is, do Finn and I still have something worth saving?
Present
I still haven't heard from Blair, and I'm freaking out. Nothing is going to make this ache go away. I fucked up. I scroll through my messages trying to figure out a way to backtrack, to fix this.
I've got nothing.
I see Stephanie's last text.
Should I go over? Last time didn't do me any good. Is it wrong to keep fucking my ex-best friend's girl? I mean, she was my girl first. He did the same thing to me. I shouldn't give a fuck, right?
Whatever, if Blair doesn't give a fuck enough about me to put me out of my misery, I'll put myself out of my misery.
I text Stephanie. She immediately responds.
Stephanie: Come over in five. I'm putting the baby to bed.
I drive over and sit outside her apartment complex. I check my phone. Still nothing from Blair. Should I text her again? See if she responds?
I see Stephanie peek out her window and look for my truck. When she sees it, she steps out of her front door to wave me up. I get out.
Time to fuck my way to numbness.
Present
I hold my breath as I creep out of Olivia's room, praying to God that she doesn't sense me leaving the room and wake up. I don't release the breath until the doorknob clicks shut and I know I truly made it home free without waking her up. She did not want to go down easily tonight. I think she missed her daddy too much, which breaks my heart. I can't keep them apart. But I also can't imagine giving up custody of her if Finn and I did split. I can't imagine life without her being in it all the time as much as she drives me crazy and makes me tired. I wouldn't trade her for anything.
Finn is sitting on the couch playing a video game on the Xbox. He has his headset on, and he's talking to some old military buddies who are gaming with him. We haven't had a chance to talk since he decided to come home. I'm shocked he's here, and I'm not sure what this means.
I sit on the couch and wait for him to say something, not wanting to be the one who has to broach the subject first, but I will. Chazz asked me not to give up on him, and I'm trying not to, but I'm so torn. I am tired of being the one who is carrying the weight of this relationship. I'm not a pack mule. And if I were, I'd be breaking under the weight of all our problems.
Someone once told me that marriage was a fifty-fifty partnership. Well, that was some bullshit. Marriage is definitely that—at least not my marriage, and it never has been. At times, it has been fifty-fifty, but not always. Sometimes it is seventy-five to twenty-five. And a few times, much like this rough patch or whatever you want to call it, it's 100 to his zero.
And to be fair to Finn, there have been times where Finn had been there to carry the weight of our relationship when it was too much of a burden for me to carry. I have checked out of our marriage mentally. When I was grieving the loss of our baby when I miscarried, Finn carried my weight. He was there while I moped and sobbed, and threw a fit. Finn tolerated my angry
spells and my outburst, and my intolerance for other pregnant women when I was torturing myself and blaming myself for the loss of the babies we wanted so badly.
"Finn," I say softly. He looks at me sideways and then mutes his microphone. He pulls one headphone off his ear but keeps playing. His fingers speed over and tap the buttons on the controller as he responds.
"Yes?"
"Thank you for when you put up with me when we lost the babies," I say quietly. "I don't think I ever thanked you for that," I say looking at him.
He's silent for a minute. He looks confused, but he accepts it. He nods uncomfortably and keeps playing. If he's not going to pay his full attention to me, though, I'm not going to waste time on talking to him. I want to have a serious discussion about whether or not we are ending this because I'm still as torn as ever. But we need to figure out where we are going. It's time.
Present
When I wake up in the morning and roll over, I'm not at all shocked to see that I am in bed alone, even though Finn was home last night. I don't want to move from under the covers because the house is cold. Finn must have turned the air conditioning down last night.
I force myself out of bed and hurry to shrug on my furry robe, and walk into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee before Olivia wakes up and I have to get ready for work around her schedule.
Finn is asleep on the couch in the living room, with his back toward me. He's curled up since his legs are too long to be stretched out, and he's under my brown furry throw blanket that he claims to hate. I feel kind of guilty that he felt he had to sleep on the couch all night. I would have wanted to sleep in my own bed, and I know that the couch isn't all that comfortable. I bet his back is stiff.
When Finn hears my footsteps in the kitchen, he rolls over and looks at me. He stretches and yawns and sits up, not saying anything. I walk to the counter and start pouring water into the coffee pot.
"Want some coffee?" I ask him, trying not to be too loud. If Livy hears people up, she'll want to get up too. She can be a light sleeper, and she's an early riser. I swear sometimes that she's not my kid. I'd sleep all day long if she let me.
"Yeah, thanks." He says, his voice still thick with sleep.
The coffee pot starts sputtering to life, and it's not long before the aroma of coffee is wafting through the kitchen. There is no better smell in the world better than coffee first thing in the morning—except maybe for bacon, but I don't have time to cook a full on breakfast this morning.
"You didn't have to stay on the couch," I mention to Finn, pouring two cups of coffee. He doesn't say anything. I start stirring creamer into my coffee. Finn drinks his black, and I don't know how he does it. Finn calls my coffee diabetes in a cup. I can't argue. My coffee is usually more creamer and sugar than actual coffee. I walk him his cup of coffee, and he thanks me, sitting up with the blanket around his shoulders.
I head back to the bedroom to start getting ready for work. Surprisingly, Finn stands up, the blanket falling from his shoulders and onto the couch and he follows me into the bedroom, wordlessly. I'm not sure what to say, so I just keep getting ready. If he has something to say, he will say it. I start applying makeup while he watches.
"Blair?" he says uncertainly. I look up at him through the mirror. He's sitting behind me on the bed.
"Yes?"
"I really want us to work out. I know I haven't been the easiest to deal with, but I don't want to separate or get a divorce. That's not what I want," he says, clasping his hands together. I turn around to stare at him after I'm done applying my makeup.
"Are you sure?" I ask. I'm surprised. Finn doesn't ever admit defeat. He doesn't apologize. Finn is stubborn. I'm truly a little shocked.
"Yes, I'm sure. I still love you. We just need to get through this," he says, looking me in the eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'll go to counseling. I'll get my shit under control," he adds. I scan his eyes for any trace of bullshit, but I don't see any.
"What brought this on?" I ask, tilting my head. I'm too shocked and confused by this sudden change of heart that I don't know how to feel.
"I talked with my dad..." he says slowly, looking down. "And I know that I need help," he admits, bowing his head. I get up and walk over, kneel in front of him and take his hands. He continues, "I know I'm struggling with PTSD and depression. I don't feel like myself. I'm not sleeping well. And I've been taking it out on you," he admits. He finally looks up at me. Our eyes meet. "I'm sorry, Blair." His eyes scan mine. "I really am. I'm sorry. And I'll go to counseling, whatever you need me to do to prove that I'm working on things. I can't lose you or Olivia. I need my girls."
I look at him for a minute and stand up. I feel like shit. Guilt is consuming me, and I feel like my stomach is filled with rocks. I want to throw up. I turn my back to him to try and pull my shit together. I don't want him to see my face because he's always been able to read me so well. I suck in a deep breath and hold it. How could I do this to him? I'm the worst kind of person imaginable. He's been fighting demons I can't even imagine, and here I am fucking around with another man behind his back. It's inexcusable.
I have to tell him. There's no other option. If we are going to work out, there should be honesty for there ever to be true progress, right? Plus, this guilt will eat at me until I snap.
"Well, I have something to tell you," I say, slowly. I take another deep breath. "If we are going to stay together," I say, "I have to give you full disclosure..."
Why do I suddenly feel like there is no air in the room? My heart is pounding.
"Ok," Finn says hesitantly. I turn to look at him.
"There's someone else," I say in a rush. I let out the breath I have been holding. But it feels good to admit it and get it off my chest. I feel a little lighter, like I'm making the right choice.
Finn just sits on the bed, staring at me, his face expressionless.
"What?" he asks in disbelief.
"I met someone, but nothing has happened," I say, hesitant. I fidget with my hands. Now I'm second guessing myself.
I can see the anger surfacing in Finn's eyes. I can see the wheels turning in his mind. Fuck. I start backtracking, quickly.
"It's not as bad as you think," I insist, rapidly trying to defuse the situation. "We've texted here and there. It's mostly just letting him call me beautiful and stuff. I just liked the compliments. Nothing else has happened, I swear," I insist.
Finn lets out a deep breath. "That's it?" he asks.
"Yes, nothing else has happened," I maintain. But like a traitor, my mind conjures up the memory of thinking about Tristan. Of the orgasm I had, hearing Tristan moan as I rode him. Tristan placing a soft kiss on my forehead when we finished. I can't help thinking about the truck. If Finn knew... he would lose it.
Finn takes another deep breath to prepare himself for the next question he's about to ask.
"Who is it?"
I look at him, frantic. I'm not going to tell him. I can't. If I tell him that I've been talking to Tristan, he will freak out, no doubt about it. Finn knows I have history with Tristan, and that history will make it worse.
"Is that really important?" I ask desperately. I see him stiffen a little bit.
"Yes, Blair, it is important." he says, his tone making me feel stupid.
"Look," I say, "I messed up. I stepped outside of our marriage. He told me I was beautiful and pretty, and it was nice to feel wanted. But that's all it was. I promise." I walk to him and take his hands in mine. "I won't let them say stuff like that to me anymore," I vow. "We are going to make things work," I say, and then I bend down and kiss him on the forehead. I can't leave Finn. We've been through too much together. He is so broken. He needs me. I can't leave him and break up this family.
I take a step back and look at my phone. "I have to go, I'm going to be late for work," I tell Finn. "But I love you. We will be okay. We will get through this."
He nods, not looking at me. And I head to grab my k
eys and purse. Finn follows me to the front door, not saying a word. I gather my stuff, freaking out internally.
Did I make the right choice by telling him? My conscience feels a little bit better. Yes, I lied to him, but it's a white lie, right? I know a lie is a lie, but I told him the important part. I should have picked a better time to do this so we could talk more, but I'm kind of glad that I get to escape.
I walk to the door and stand on my tiptoes to give Finn a peck on the lips. I'm trying to distract him from what I just told him, but I don't think it's working...
"Oh! Don't forget, Chazz offered to watch Olivia tonight so we can go on a date. Drop Olivia off at Chazz's before I get home from work," I remind Finn. He nods, distant. His mind is somewhere else. But what can I do? Maybe the time I'm at work will be good. It will give him time to process.
Now I just have to tell Tristan I can't talk to him anymore. The idea kills me. He's like a drug, and I don't want to give him up either.
Present
I watch the clock for when Blair is supposed to be home from work. Time is crawling so slowly because I can't stop thinking about what she said to me before she left for work. I'm obsessing over it. It's like a leaky faucet. The thought is always there, at the back of my mind, dripping every few minutes, reminding me it's there.
