Marital Bitch

by Jc Emery

  Her mouth opens and in a moment of panic, I rush to talk over her.

  "As a friend," I lie and laugh lightly. Through my own voice, I hear hers.

  "I love you, too," she says and then laughs. There's a moment where I think she's serious. Or maybe I'm hearing things. And then it passes and it's gone so quickly that I think it never happened.

  "As a friend," she clarifies. I laugh a little more, forcing myself not to fall apart. I've loved this woman my entire life; and this is what's come of it. A lifetime's worth of disappointments fester in my gut, threatening to spill out. The laughter that comes from her sends my lunch to my throat and I rush from the bed to the bathroom where I expel my breakfast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  (Colleen)

  You want a baby?

  I WANT, MORE than anything, to rewind the last five minutes of my life.

  I want to strike the entire conversation from memory.

  I want out of this house.

  For a split second I had it all. I had a career. I had a beautiful husband. I was in love. Deeply in love. And I was loved in return. And then with three little words, I had nothing. For a split second, Brad loved me. Or so I thought.

  "As a friend," he said just as I had gotten up the nerve to tell him that I love him, too. I must have looked like the biggest idiot.

  And to top it off, it wasn't until Brad was holding me in his arms, asking me if I want a baby, that I really knew what I want and where I belong, and who with. I belong with Brad. I always have, but it seems that I am an idiot because it's only taken me thirty-five years to really believe it.

  Hearing Brad say he loves me was indescribable. I wish I could capture the feeling in a bottle so that I'll always remember it.

  I want out of this room.

  I just want to hide in my misery. I close my eyes and shove my face in my pillow as the tears pour out of my eyes. Soon enough, I move from the acceptable "I'm hurting" cry to the all-out, balls-to-the-wall-ugly-cry. And breathing is difficult; not that I care much about breathing at this moment.

  Brad is in the bathroom, throwing up. I'm kind of annoyed at him for making it there first. I feel sick. I should go and see if he's okay, but my puffy eyes give me away. It's one thing to sort-of, kind-of tell your best friend that you love him. It's another for him to know how much it's hurting you. Eventually, I compose myself enough to yell out and ask him if he's okay and if he needs anything. Thankfully, he doesn't. So I stay in bed and sob.

  I hear the flush of the toilet, knowing he will be out soon, and run to do something about my red eyes. I find an unopened jar of an organic face mask that I just had to buy. I remember buying this at Macy's. It cost me fifty dollars. When I first moved in Brad told me I was beautiful just as I am and I don't need this "expensive crap" and that it's a waste of money. At the time I was annoyed with his judgment, but now, I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it.

  The bathroom door cracks open and I rip the lid off the jar of expensive goop. I dig my hand in and slather it all over my face just in time for Brad to walk down the hall, holding his stomach. His eyes are red, but that’s no surprise. He always gets watery eyes when he throws up. I have no excuse for my red eyes except that I’m in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same.

  “What the hell is on your face?” he asks, inspecting the foreign substance.

  “Face mask,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze. He makes some sort of grunting sound and plops into the bed.

  “Were you drooling, stink?” he asks. I turn to find him looking curiously at my soaked pillow. I laugh it off as best I can.

  “I guess so,” I shrug. “I’m going to go take a shower,” I say. I hear some sort of groan coming from him before I realize the effects of the laxatives haven’t quite passed yet.

  Once I’m alone in the bathroom, with the door shut, I can’t hold back anymore. I manage to turn on the water in just enough time to muffle the sounds of my sobs. I undress slowly, clutching my stomach in pain. This is the same pain I felt when grandpa died, only this feels even worse if that’s possible. Grandpa didn’t have a choice; but Brad is still here. He just doesn’t want me the way I want him. And I can’t even believe that it hurts this much when a week ago I was oblivious to my own feelings. How can it hurt this much?

  I step under the spray of the water and lean my head against the tile, my cries racking my entire body. I’d been trying to be quiet; to cry in silence. I don’t want Brad to know that I’m crying. There’s nothing he can do to make it better anyhow. I can’t force him to love me the way I love him.

  I hear Brad open the bathroom door and I think that I should straighten up and pretend that I’m okay, but I can’t. I scream loudly and throw my arms against the tiled wall. I don’t open my eyes, but I know what he’s doing. He’s coming to save me. He’s always coming to save me. Some obligation I must be.

  “Colleen?” Brad asks, shoving the curtain aside and stepping into the shower. I sob even harder having him in here with me. I can’t even throw my pity party for one in peace, apparently. “Did you get that junk in your eyes?” he asks and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I let my body sink against his solid frame as I continue to cry. He’s fully clothed and now soaking well to boot.

  Before I can protest, he directs the spray to the top of my head. Water runs down my face and he uses his hand to clean my face off. He’s so gentle. He always is. I continue to cry, propped up against his body.

  “Is that better?” he asks. I scream out again, still clutching my stomach.

  “It hurts,” I whine. It does hurt. It hurts like nothing I knew I could feel, if that even makes sense.

  I love him.

  He loves me.

  As a friend.

  He asked me if I want a baby.

  I don’t just want a baby.

  I want his baby.

  “Brad,” I sniffle, trying to calm down my cries. “Why did you ask me if I want a baby?” I can’t stop from crying but I have to ask before I lose my nerve.

  “I’m getting up there in age, pretty girl,” he smooths my wet hair out of my eyes and redirects the spray. “I need to get started on that baseball team and who better to do that with than my best friend?” I feel his lips against the back of my head and the little bit of composure I had falls away.

  “So, my uterus is convenient?” I whimper. His body shakes for a moment. I think he’s getting cold back there but then he goes stiff. His heart is beating fast, nearly thumping right out of his chest. I turn around and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Colleen,” he says sternly, “you are anything but convenient.”

  “Yes,” I blurt out without thinking about it. For once I’m acting on instinct. I’m saying exactly what I want from him and not what I think he wants to give me. Back in high school, I wanted him to ask me to prom, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do it. So when he asked, I acted like such a bitch—my trademark reaction to everything it seems. Thankfully, he’s as stubborn as I am and he didn’t take no for an answer.

  “Yeah?” he asks, resting his chin on the top of my head.

  “Yeah,” I say, “I want a baby.” His chin moves on top of my skull and I just know he’s smiling. I’m not fighting him or questioning him or doubting him for once. There’s a slight nagging feeling in the back of my head telling me that this is a disaster waiting to happen. And it probably is. But then, part of me thinks that maybe it’s not. Our marriage should have been a disaster; but here I am. In love. Our cohabitation should have been a disaster; but here we are. Wanting to have a baby. I know that bringing a baby into this mess is the worst idea imaginable, but this is Bradley Patrick. He said he wants to keep me; and even if he only loves me like a friend, I can live with that. I’d rather have some of him than nothing at all. I can live with being just his best friend and his wife and the mother of his children. The very idea gives me butterflies. He doesn’t have to be in love with me. He just has to keep me
and I’ll be alright.

  “We should get started then,” he laughs and starts to strip. “We only got an hour before we have to be at your parents’ house.” I laugh at the sudden shift in our moods. Adam says we’re perfectly normal, capable human beings; but together, we’re bipolar. I can’t say he’s wrong.

  Brad steps out of the shower and then grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder and carefully walks back into our bedroom where the throws me on the bed. “We’re really doing this?” he asks, a grin on his face. I smile, a blush heating my face.

  “Yeah,” I say quietly, “we are.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  (Brad)

  Colleen has a problem and in rides Brad.

  WE'RE HAVING A baby. Well, we're trying to have a baby. Hell, we might already have one on the way. I have no clue. Apparently, I can't just man up and tell her that I'm in love with her, but I can tell her I want to have a baby with her. This probably says something about me.

  "I can't wait to go shopping for maternity clothes!" Colleen blurts out from across the room. And it is comments like that that remind me how very real our decision is. Talking about having a baby is one thing, but having sex without any protection in order to have a baby is quite another. How did I get into this, again?

  Oh. Yeah. I thought that a baby would make Colleen happy. I know that a baby will make me happy. I know that I want a baby with Colleen, but I have the nagging feeling that this just isn't a good idea. Which all leads me to wonder how far am I willing to go to make her happy.

  "Dude," Colleen says. I look up at her to find that she's got her t-shirt pulled up and she's looking at her profile in the full-length mirror. Well, she doesn't look pregnant yet. "You think I'm already knocked up?" She smiles. I shrug. Damn if I know. I've never knocked anyone up before.

  "You really want to have a baby with me?” I ask her seriously. She drops her shirt and walks over to me. She isn’t smiling, she looks very serious. She places her hands on my cheeks and smiles softly.

  “Bradley Patrick,” she says nary above a whisper. “There is nobody else I’d rather be married to, or have a baby with, or be tied to in such a permanent way.” And what the hell does she mean by that?

  “As a friend, right?” I say, giving her a chance to say something. The words she says don’t sound like things friends say to each other. I should know, I’ve been saying shit like that to her for years and I’ve never said anything close to that to any of my girlfriends. She’s the only one. She’s always been the only one. I thought Heather might have been a good substitute for a while, but she never even came close to being my pretty girl.

  Her face falls. I swear to God she looks like she’s about to cry. “Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask, trying to get her to say what seems to be written all over her face.

  “You’re my best friend,” She leans up and kisses the corner of my mouth.

  “We better go,” I mumble and turn to walk out of the room.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON with you and Colleen?” Dan asks. I take a long pull of my beer and think about that for a moment and I come up with nothing.

  “I have no clue,” I say, “she’s bipolar.” Dan laughs.

  “She’s not the only one,” Charlotte plops down on the picnic bench beside me and snorts at her own comment. She thinks she’s real funny, always has.

  “Where’s my girl?” I nudge my older sister and cock an eyebrow at her. She points across the yard. My niece, Sarah, is pulling on Colleen’s t-shirt and gabbing away. Colleen is talking to her and making her laugh. I involuntarily smile at the sight. She may be a damn difficult human being but she is going to be an amazing mom. I’ve never doubted that.

  “You never come by and visit anymore, little brother,” Charlotte pokes me in my arm. “I guess you’re busy being all married now, right?” I sigh.

  “I guess,” I mumble. She opens her mouth to say something else but is distracted by my nephew, George, who is trying to climb over the back fence and get into a neighboring yard. He’s eight now. What are you going to do? Immediately, she rushes over to him and starts yanking him down. I love that boy.

  “So, what’s really going on, son?” Dan gives me the side eye. “I’ve been a cop for a long time, kid. I know when something’s up.” I look away, doing my best to avoid his question.

  “We’re trying to have a baby,” I mutter, trying to keep Dan from asking anymore questions. The way I figure it is if I’m talking about sex with his daughter, then maybe he’ll drop the subject. No dice.

  “Look,” he leans in and rubs his mustache. “I know this whole marriage thing was supposed to be a joke and a bunch of shit went down, okay? I know you guys didn’t intend to stay married. But my wife doesn’t know; and all she can talk about is how happy she is now that you two are together. When I say happy, Bradley,” he trails off and gives me the most serious expression I’ve ever seen him give anybody—including a suspect. “I mean happy and when she’s happy, Bradley, I’m happy. Don’t make me unhappy, Bradley.” I laugh a little nervously at his statement.

  “How in the hell do you know that?” I hiss. Dan smiles proudly. Darla walks over and hands him a beer. He grins up at her.

  “Here’s your beer, pop,” she says and walks away. I catch the smile he gives her and I just know who the rat is. The rat is Darla. Dan catches my look and straightens up.

  “So, have you told her yet?” Dan sighs happily as he opens his fresh beer.

  “Told her what?” I ask, claiming ignorance.

  “You mean to tell me that you married my daughter and now you’re trying to get her pregnant—“ he pauses, a disgusted look crosses his face as he realizes the conversation he’s stepped into, “and you haven’t even told her you’re in love with her?” I look away from him. He already knows the answer.

  “What, you don’t want me to knock her up?” I try to divert the conversation. He just shakes his head and stands up as my dad walks over.

  “Your son is an idiot,” Dan looks John square in the eye and shakes his head.

  “Yours isn’t any better,” my dad laughs and points to James who is, on a dare from my own mother, chugging two beers at once.

  “Louise probably shouldn’t of drank with that one,” Dan smirks and walks away. My dad laughs and sits down beside me.

  “Is Colleen pregnant?” I’m surprised by his question. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. I stand up and shift my weight from foot to foot. Sensing my discomfort, he stands as well.

  "She ain't knocked up," I say defiantly. My dad cocks his head to the side and looks over my shoulder. I turn around and see what's holding his attention. Colleen. She looks amazing, and there in her arms is Alex. I watch, captivated, as she rubs noses with him. "Well," dad says, "by the way she's looking at that kid, if she isn't pregnant now, she will be soon."

  “Why would you even ask that?” I ask. I know I’m snapping at him, when really he’s done nothing wrong, but damn it. Why the hell is he asking?

  “Calm down, son,” he raises his arms in the air, surrendering. “I just ask because she’s over there asking your mother how long it took her to get pregnant with you and the girls; seems like she wants a baby to me.”

  “Yeah,” I grumble, “she wants a fucking baby, alright.”

  Somehow, it wasn’t clear to me before; but it sure is now. Colleen wants to be a mother. She wants to have a child. Whatever I saw on her face earlier wasn’t what I thought it was. For a moment there I thought I saw love in her eyes. But it wasn’t love, after all. I’m just a means to an end and as her best friend, who better to do the deed?

  She doesn’t want a baby with me, she just wants a baby and I’m a willing participant. I just can’t believe I didn’t see it before now. All of her “attempts” to be a real couple that had my head spinning were, after all, a fucking ploy. What was it she said back in Vegas? She thought she’d be married by now?

  Colleen has a problem and in rides Brad, the ever-willing parti
cipant. I’m sick of it. I just can’t keep going on and giving and giving. I just can’t be her rock when she needs me and a pebble that she trips over when she’s gotten what she wants. She is my entire world. My first memory in life is of her; and every important moment in my life has her in it—my pretty girl—and I want my last moment to be with her as well. But I’m so fucking sick of taking scraps and the little tiny bits that she throws me.

  I’m done.

  “Uncle Brad!” Sarah yells as she runs toward me. I bend down and scoop her into my arms. At the age of seven, she’s getting pretty big. She’s tall for her age, but so skinny; and she has this bright red hair, just like her mom.

  “What’cha doing?” she asks with a toothy grin. I chuckle at her enthusiasm. I’m pretty sure she is the Energizer Bunny, because she never stops going.

  “Just thinking,” I say.

  “Oh,” she says, “well stop it. You look like you have to poop!” A real laugh slips through and I throw my head back. Sarah is never one to think before speaking; a problem which will likely get her in trouble when she gets older. She and Colleen may not share any genetic material, but they are so much alike in so many ways.

  “Who’s that?” Sarah screams and tugs on my arm. I look to the sliding back door and see Vicky of all people coming out. Darla rushes over to her and hugs her. Vicky looks shocked but smiles anyway. I spot Colleen, Alex still in her arms, eyeing Vicky. She’s furious. I watch, alarmed, as Colleen stomps over to Vicky. At the last moment she plasters a fake smile on her face and gives Vicky a dainty hug.

  Oh, so we’re back to that game, again?

  “Brad!” Vicky calls to me, looking terrified as Colleen talks to her about God only knows what.

  “Oh! The pretty lady knows you, Uncle Brad! Let’s go talk to her!” Sarah shouts, pulling me toward a still-stunned Vicky. We walk over and the look of terror fades from Vicky’s face.