Risk and Reward

by Rachael Duncan

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says and I can picture her rolling her eyes. “Well, let me know if you need any moral support during your search. I can be at your house in a few minutes with reinforcements. And by reinforcements, I mean wine.”

  I laugh as I shake my head. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Good luck!”

  I hang up the phone and start the tedious task of searching through fifty-eight counties. After I locate the local news in that region, I do a search of their last name and cross my fingers something comes up.

  The only time I take a break is to eat and take Choco out. My determination increases with each no results found message I receive. By the time I’ve exhausted every source, it’s pitch black outside, my eyes are killing me, and my back is super stiff. Still, I found nothing.

  How is this possible? After searching literally all day long, it’s as if these two people never existed. Something in the back of my mind tells me it’s more than not having enough information to find them.

  SIX MONTHS.

  I’m halfway there.

  In another six months I’ll be able to file for a divorce, but the idea of that doesn’t unburden me like it did before. My mind is on this crazy roller coaster of thoughts and emotions and I’m convinced this is what the seven stages of grief must feel like. There’s no other explanation for why I go back and forth as I reflect on the new path my life is headed toward.

  Images of Nate cross my mind at the most random moments. I’ll be doing something mundane when all of a sudden a memory or a thought will pop into my head. Yesterday I was folding laundry and got up to check his basket, only his basket isn’t here. I guess it’s normal to be on autopilot when completing certain tasks, but as I stood in my apartment bedroom, it took me aback for a second.

  Tonight, I was flipping through the channels and came across ESPN’s 30 for 30 program. I started to record it so Nate could watch it later. Only there will be no later because he doesn’t live here. Things like that make adjusting to my new life difficult, especially when it has me questioning my choice to move on.

  My phone rings, so I get up to retrieve it from the kitchen counter.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey,” Ethan responds. “What are you up to?”

  “Just about to take Choco for a walk.” At the word walk, Choco’s ears perk up and his tail thumps the floor.

  “Want some company?”

  With this weird funk fogging up my head, I want to tell him no, but instead, I say, “Sure.”

  Five minutes later I have my shoes on and Choco’s lead attached. “Let’s go, you lazy bum,” I say to him as we walk out the door.

  Ethan is waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs with a bright smile. His arms are crossed over his chest, but he seems relaxed in his stance as he waits for us to meet him. A small smile spreads across my face when he looks at me. It’s not the same reaction I used to have to him in the beginning. One where butterflies would multiply in my stomach and I’d get jittery just being around him. This is more of a forced smile and I have no idea why my feelings are changing. All I can think is that it has everything to do with letting the past go and not being able to fully move on.

  We walk in silence, the only noise coming from the scurrying of Choco’s paws to find the perfect place to go to the bathroom, and the chirping of the bugs around us. “It’s nice out this evening,” Ethan says, breaking the silence.

  “If you like being in a sauna,” I joke. The July humidity is gross, even after the sun sets.

  He laughs quietly beside me. “What I meant is it’s nice and calm out here.”

  Taking in my surroundings, I get what he’s saying. There are no cars honking or people running around in a rush. With a faint line of orange and pink still in the sky and nothing but crickets to be heard, it’s easy to forget we live in a city. “You’re right, it is nice.”

  “I take it you don’t like your job anymore,” he remarks after a few minutes.

  His randomness throws me off momentarily. “What would make you say that?” We stop walking to let Choco pee on his fiftieth tree. How he’s still able to go is beyond me.

  I see him shrug from the corner of my eye. “You don’t seem as happy as you did when you first started.”

  My head moves from side to side. “It’s not my dream job, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “What’s your dream job then?” He turns his head toward me as we make another stop, and I follow suit.

  My head shakes slowly. “I have no clue.” I sound lost, even to my own ears, but this is how I feel about my whole life right now. I’m a piece of debris lost at sea with no direction as I bounce around with each wave that passes by.

  “What were you doing before?” he asks, genuinely interested in me and my past. I appreciate his effort, but it touches on a subject I never talk about. A subject that left wounds which would never heal.

  “I didn’t work while I was married to Nate.” We start making our way back to my building while my eyes are trained on the pavement in front of me.

  “Was that his choice or yours?” His usual snark whenever Nate is mentioned is absent, making me more comfortable talking to him about this.

  “It was a mutual decision. Nate was very supportive in my goals and encouraged me to pursue whatever I wanted. But he knew I had a hard time finding something I really liked. It’s the reason my degree is in general studies and not something specific. I’m one of those people who like to try a little bit of everything, but dislike it enough to keep from committing.”

  “You’re indecisive,” he comments.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, yes.” The only thing I was ever sure of was Nate, but that’s changed as well.

  “So, you stayed home while you figured out your calling in life?” The condescension I’d expect from his comment isn’t there. Again, he just seems interested in knowing me better.

  “Not exactly. We decided we wanted to start a family, and both thought it was best if I stayed home until our kids got older.” I swallow hard, the ache in my chest growing. “But it never happened,” I say quietly. Ethan doesn’t utter a word, but I can feel the questions oozing off of him. For whatever reason, the flood gates open and I tell him everything.

  “We started trying right after our one year anniversary. I was so excited and couldn’t wait for the day I’d tell him we were going to be parents. I even thought of cute ways to surprise him.” A sad smile forms on my face. “Each month that went by was another disappointment, another failure. It was heartbreaking, and I started to slip into a state of depression. The more we tried, the more broken I became.

  “Nate kept reassuring me that it would eventually happen, but I was losing hope. I also knew I couldn’t go through that for much longer. Then, Nate got promoted and was traveling all the time, and I wanted it less and less. I didn’t want to be a single mom, and that’s how it would have been for us.”

  I feel like I’ve been dunked into freezing cold water. My lungs seize up and my heart hurts with every beat, the residual pain after years of failure resurfacing again. It’s not until a tear falls down my face do I realize I’ve started to cry.

  “Without medical intervention,” I continue, “it wouldn’t be impossible, but really difficult for me to conceive. Once the doctors told me that, I went back on birth control. Nate had long since stopped asking me if I was pregnant or not, probably because of how much it upset me, so I never told him I was on the pill. It was like finally jumping off a cliff. I wasn’t teetering on the ledge, waiting for the news I wanted. For the first time in two years, I could breathe.”

  We get to my building and we stop and I face him for the first time since I launched into my story. “Without the pressure of having a baby, the depression that was setting in finally lifted. I wasn’t suffocating under the never-ending feeling of inadequacy.”

  Even though feeling inadequate receded, other feelings took its place.


  Resentment.

  Anger.

  Bitterness.

  Over time, I directed these emotions onto Nate. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. And that’s the advantage of hindsight. Maybe part of the reason we drifted apart is because of me. Each day that passes, doubts over my decision to leave grow. What does that mean?

  A comforting hand on my shoulder brings my focus back to Ethan. “You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

  “I know.” I give him a small smile that doesn’t reach my eyes because it is my fault. The doctors said so.

  He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. “Don’t worry,” he says into my hair. “I’ll give you lots of babies. As many as you want.”

  I’m thankful he can’t see my face because all the life drains out of it and my body goes rigid. He might think this is what I want to hear, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Once again, it’s too much too soon. My blood pressure spikes almost making me dizzy as I internally freak out. I work hard to school my features and show no reaction when he pulls back. His words are probably meant to reassure, but they do nothing to soothe the pain my empty womb has caused. If anything, it heightens my anxieties over being with him in the first place.

  PINNING MY SANDY blonde hair out of my face, I take one last look in the mirror before I wait for Ethan to come pick me up. My brown eyes are smoked out and my lips are glossed over. Ethan said he was taking me out somewhere nice, so I decided to wear my little black dress with a deep V in the front and body skimming silhouette. As I’m making sure I have everything I need in my clutch, there’s a knock on the door.

  Opening it, I greet Ethan in his button-down shirt, blazer, and dress slacks. He lets out a low whistle as he appraises me. A slow blush creeps across my face. “Damn, my girl looks good.”

  “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

  “You ready?” he asks as he holds out his elbow for me to take.

  I loop my arm through his. “Yep,” I say before he leads me out to his car.

  “Where are we going?” I question once we’re on our way.

  “Just this little place I know.”

  “Very secretive of you, Mr. Peck,” I joke.

  He turns toward me and winks. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Since I confided in Ethan about my fertility issues, we’ve turned a new leaf. Not in a romantic sense exactly, but in a friendship sense. I know Ethan wants more from me. He makes it obvious in the things he says and the way he acts, but I’m content with us being just friends at this point. And if something more develops later down the road, that would be okay too.

  The car stops outside of this rustic looking building with warm lights beaming up the walls, giving it a nice ambience even from the outside. Once we walk in, it’s gorgeous. With natural hardwood floors and matching beams running across the ceiling, it gives off an old world feel while being elegant all at the same time. The lighting is warm and inviting, but the best part is the smells coming from the kitchen. My stomach growls in anticipation.

  We’re lead to our table with white linen and tea light candles in the center. “Your server will be right with you.” We say thank you before turning our attention back to each other.

  “This is really nice,” I say.

  “I’ve only been here once, but it was incredible.”

  The two of us are quiet as we look over our menus and place our orders.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  “That’s random,” I remark.

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  I give it some thought because I honestly have no idea where I’ll be in a few years. But I realize it doesn’t necessarily matter where I am as long as I have one thing: happiness. “Happy,” I reply. “I see myself being happy in five years.”

  Ethan smiles as he looks at me warmly, the light from the candles reflecting off of his green eyes. “Well, I hope I’m the one to help you achieve that.”

  Our food arrives, halting our conversation, and I’m thankful for it. It’s getting a little heavy for me and I’m not ready to talk about our future together at this point in my life.

  The silence stretches between us and I smile uncomfortably around a bite of food when he stares at me expectantly. When I started seeing Ethan, I didn’t want anything serious. The last thing I needed was the stress that comes with getting involved with someone, but that’s where I’ve ended up. When he talks about kids and forever, it’s not fun for me anymore. If I want to keep seeing him, I’m going to have to figure out a way to convey my feelings to him and hope he understands and pumps the brakes a little.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  I give him a tight smile and nod. “Yeah.” I swallow hard and decide now’s the time to be honest. “Actually, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh oh,” he responds with a nervous laugh.

  “It’s not bad,” I reassure him. “It’s just I think we’re on two different pages as far as what’s going on between us.”

  His face remains impassive, making him hard to read. “What page are you on?” he asks, his voice giving nothing away.

  “I want to have fun. I want a person I can have fun with. I don’t want to talk about marriage, kids, and forever.” It’s hard for me to speak up for myself sometimes. I’m always concerned with how my words will affect the other person, but with each syllable that comes out of my mouth, a weight is lifted from my shoulders.

  He nods as if he’s taking it all in. “Okay, so nothing serious, just fun, right?”

  “Right.”

  He nods again. “I can do that.”

  I didn’t realize how stiff I was through our conversation until my shoulders sag and a huge sigh leaves my body. I wasn’t sure how he’d respond, and I’m thankful he didn’t make a big deal out of it and seems to be okay with it.

  The rest of dinner has some residual tension, but we manage through it with light conversation. Once we leave, it only takes about twenty minutes to get back to our apartment complex. After unlocking my door, I walk through it and am about to tell him good night, but he follows me in. My mouth opens to say something, but he beats me to the punch. “Want to have a drink before I go back to my place?”

  My shoulders fall. “Sure.” I’m not a confrontational person. In fact, I hate it, which is probably the reason it took me so long to voice my concerns with him and my unhappiness with Nate. I internalize things, letting them fester until the infection boils over and I snap. I’m close to the snapping point because he obviously didn’t take in a single thing I said at dinner.

  I walk into the kitchen and pour us each a glass of wine. I try to dismiss the way he walked in without an invitation, but I seem to be doing that a lot with him. Anytime he does or says something that crosses my personal boundaries, I brush it under the rug when I know I shouldn’t.

  Ethan is a nice guy, but his eagerness is becoming a turn off. Despite this, I find myself wanting to like him. I’m not really sure why. Maybe my self-esteem that was damaged in my marriage craves what he’s willing to provide; affection and attention. The optimistic part of my brain suggests that he’s just awkward and has no clue how forward he comes across. There’s also the possibility he’s saying what he thinks I want to hear. I hold on to these theories and walk back into the living room.

  I have a seat next to him on the couch, handing him his glass. “Thank you,” he says. I smile in return.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?”

  “It was really good. I’ve never been there before, so thanks for taking me,” I reply.

  His appreciative smile lets me know my response pleases him. “I was full before, but I’m thinking I have room for a little dessert now.” His eyebrows move up and down suggestively, causing me to roll my eyes and let out a short laugh.

  “What? Don’t think I can handle your sweetness?” His nose skims my neck as he inhales. He places gentle kisses behind my ear and down my neck. I
’m frozen, my back rigid and my breaths short. We’ve kissed before, but this feels different. I can’t place my finger on why, but a pit in my gut tells me he expects more than I’m willing to give.

  Ethan must take my lack of response as his cue. He grabs my wine glass and reaches out to put it on the side table. Soon, his hands are moving up my thighs and over my hips before stopping at my waist. They’re rough and cold instead of warm and tender. My heart beats wildly in my chest as he applies pressure and guides me to lie down.

  “Eager are we?” My voice trembles slightly even though I try to keep it light and steady.

  He pulls back enough for me to see the smirk on his face. “I’ve waited a while for this.”

  Before I can respond, he silences me with a hard kiss. I gasp in shock and he takes advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue into my mouth. My tongue lies lifelessly in my mouth as he tries to coax a response. I’m hoping he notices my lack of involvement and stops, but the longer he continues, I realize that’s not the case.

  I pull my head back as much as I can, disconnecting our lips. He doesn’t quit though and uses the moment to pull my dress up over my hips. The harsh movement sends panic rising up my spine. His roughness and impatience alarms me and sets me on edge. I need to find a way to slow this way down. My hand moves toward the hem of my skirt to pull it down, but he intercepts it and laces our fingers together before pinning it above my head.

  His other hand squeezes my waist before traveling along the side of my breast and up to my face. Cupping my cheek, Ethan moves my head for better access as he assaults my mouth, his tongue punishing and kiss deep. I can’t pull back anymore and attempt to push him off of me with my free hand. This doesn’t feel right. This is wrong.

  “Ethan, I—I can’t,” I say once his lips part from mine. With wide eyes, I stare up at him as he admires my body from head to toe, never once looking at my face. The need to cover myself is strong, and I’m still fully clothed.

  Sitting up, he unbuttons his shirt while looking down at me like prey. I swallow hard, trying to find my voice and nerve to be more assertive as he ignores my request to stop. It’s not long before his shirt is off and he’s on top of me again. His bare stomach rests between my bare thighs and I want to purge. “You’re just as perfect as I imagined,” he murmurs against my lips as his hand palms my breast painfully hard.