Once the blinders came off and I saw everything for how it truly was, I knew that I had to leave. Graduation day came and I was packed up, having made peace with my decision to let go of the man who had once stolen my heart. Then everything changed and my world was rocked to its foundations. Two lines on a white stick would forever tie me to Tim Willis forever. One year later, here I am with a baby and living with a man that I really think only puts up with me.
I don’t regret my daughter, Alyssa, for a minute. However, she deserves a father who holds her, talks to her. She deserves to be loved by him. I have racked my brain trying to figure out what I have done to make him so indifferent; how I could possibly make things better for us. Nothing has worked. I am horrified that this is how I will spend the rest of my life. Unhappy. Empty. Lonely and aching for a void to be filled that only grows larger by the day.
This should be a happy time for Tim and I. Today makes three years since our first date. I have spent hours making sure everything is perfect. Our apartment is spotless and his breakfast is hot and ready on the table just as he steps through the door after working all night at a local factory. Taking a deep breath, I muster every ounce of strength I have left to meet his eyes. My hope is that the man who had once made me feel so special will be able to see how unhappy I am. If he loves me at all, he couldn’t possibly want that, right?
“Morning, Tim.”
“Yep,” he mumbles, dumping his lunch box and jacket to the chair. Passing me, he walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He is never talkative when he comes off the night shift. Just one more thing I miss. Tim and I used to spend hours every night talking. Eventually, it became less and less. Now, I can’t remember the last time he actually heard what I had to say without becoming defensive or irritated.
When the door opens, I quickly dismiss my thoughts as he eyes the table. “Breakfast, huh?” he asks, taking a seat.
“Happy Anniversary, Tim,” I smile, sitting down beside him.
“Oh, is it now?” Shrugging, he digs into his food. The smile that was on my face fades, just the tone in those four simple words and what little hope I had drains from me.
“I thought we could talk,” I force out, swallowing hard. I am determined to say something, anything, to try and explain how I feel.
Tim drops his fork to the plate and looks up at me. He exhales loudly, frustration radiating off of him in waves. “What is it?”
“It’s just,” I start, my hands twisting in my lap nervously. “Are you happy with this? With me? I mean—”
“Of course I’m not happy with you,” he snaps, interrupting me. “Do you think I enjoy coming home from working all night to a dirty house and an inquisition from you.” His reply is cold. “I’ll make it really easy for you so you can understand. If you want me to be happy, you’d clean the sink in the bathroom and mop this damn floor. It’s like you enjoy living in filth.”
Telling him that I mopped last night before I went to bed wouldn’t matter, so I don’t argue. The fact that I bleach that sink every morning before he comes home is irrelevant. Nothing is ever good enough. Standing up, I walk over and scrape my untouched breakfast into the disposal. “If you weren’t hungry you shouldn’t have fixed the plate. Wasting my hard-earned money on food you didn’t even eat. You are bound and determined to piss me off today, aren’t you?” he scolds before downing his juice.
“I’m going to check on the baby,” I inform him as if it matters.
“Hey,” Tim calls out making me stop in the doorway. I turn expectantly, meeting his eyes. “If you’re going to go pout, at least admit it. Fuckin’ baby,” he bites out hatefully, “You act like such a goddamn child. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re even worth all the trouble.”
My jaw drops in shock at the venom in his words. Why do I let him talk to me that way? What would he say if I stood up to him just once? My fists ball at my sides, my frustration boiling over. Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes. “Kiss my ass,” I mutter, turning my back to him. “Prick.”
The chair scrapes across the floor, screeching loudly over the tile. “What the fuck did you say?” he asks angrily. “Sounds like you’re lookin’ for a fight this morning.”
My knees shake at the intimidating tone that is meant as a warning. This fight would not solve anything. Shaking my head, I take a second to breath and force myself to calm down. “I said leave the glass, Tim. I’ll wash up the dishes later.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles behind me. “Make sure you mop, too. What kind of mother would let this place get so disgusting?” he growls. Shoving around me, he storms into our room, slamming the door behind him so hard the floor vibrates beneath my feet.
Hurrying into the nursery, I let the tears fall. I won’t dare cry in front of Tim; that would only fuel his fire. I bend to every request, comply with every demand, but still it is never enough. I could beg him to open up to me, but he has this wall up and I am the last person he will let in. It has been months since he has even used my first name when talking to me.
Today was going to be the turning point in our relationship. Our talk was supposed to make things better between us. It hadn’t though. I was naïve to think anything is going to change that. It is foolish to keep putting everything into a one-sided relationship that I didn’t want any more than he did.
Looks like today is a turning point, after all.
Hindsight is a dirty little bitch. Why is it that true understanding and realization are so much easier to grasp after the fact? Looking back, everything should have been clear; especially the day Alyssa was born. Of course Tim didn’t say sweet things to me after giving birth to our daughter. My pleas for him to hold her or sit with me may as well have fallen on deaf ears.
“I don’t cuddle or whatever the hell it is you’re expecting from me. This is what you wanted.” He gestures to himself and the baby, then shakes his head. “Get used to it,” Tim barked before leaving the room.
He did not come back until they released us to go home. I was devastated. What kind of man feels nothing for his newborn child and the woman he claims to be building a future with? Hell, I have seen him high five a complete stranger at the pool hall.
“Good morning, Princess.” Lifting her from the crib, I cuddle her in my arms. “How is my beautiful girl this morning?” Her gassy grin begins to lift my mood immediately.
After Alyssa is changed, I settle into the rocker to feed her. As she latches onto my breast, I try to relax and tune out the blaring television from across the hall. I feel like a single parent most of the time. Sadly, I have grown used to doing everything myself. If you had told me this is how my life after college would be, that my degree would be sitting unused in a frame in the closet, I would have laughed at you.
I expected a happily ever after. Wrong. No glass slipper or charming prince here, ladies. I settled out of fear, and now I am completely miserable. My heart sinks. What kind of example am I setting for my daughter? I can feel all the best pieces of me slipping away with each passing day. What will happen when the last of me disappears forever, leaving me just a shell of my former self? I just don’t know anymore.
Clearing his throat, Tim steps into the doorway wearing just his boxers. The low slung blue cotton against his tanned skin is like candy for the eyes. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help taking in the view.
Yeah, I stare even if he is an asshole…
“Hey.” His eyes drift down to my exposed chest and the baby as she eats. “For fuck’s sake,” he groans in disgust, yanking a hand through his dark brown hair. “Cover yourself up.”
Looking away, in an attempt to mask my hurt, I pull a blanket over us. Once again, Tim’s comfort and happiness is more important than anyone else’s. “Sorry, Tim. What do you need?”
“Come here when you’re done with the kid,” he replies, then walks back into our room. I hear him flop onto the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking. The flicker of his lighter tells me he is smoking inside the
apartment again.
Once I have finished feeding the baby, I turn on her mobile, and lie her back in the crib. “I’ll be back later, sweet girl,” I whisper as her eye lids begin to droop.
Walking into the master bedroom, I brace myself. It’s safe to assume I am about to get an ear-full about whatever is eating at him at the moment. Tim is sprawled across the bed on his back, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. “How ‘bout some?” he asks, patting the mattress with one hand.
Now there’s a seduction scene...
“Tim, we really should talk.”
Pushing up on his elbows, he jerks his chin in the direction of his dick. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk. I want you to get your ass over here and take care of me so I can go to sleep.”
Knowing five minutes of sex is better than a thirty-minute argument that will only wake the baby, I walk over to the bed, and lie down next to him. I don’t say no, even though I don’t really want this. Sometimes giving in is the easiest way with him. Picking battles in an effort to avoid the eggshells, so to speak.
Pulling our brown comforter over us, he grips my hips. The moment he touches me, I know this is a mistake. Tim pushes my shirt up over my head. His mouth sucks and bites roughly at my nipple. “Wait,” I blurt, pushing against his chest. “I can’t even see, Tim.”
“Who gives a shit. This isn’t about you anyway.” Fumbling around, he pulls my underwear to the side. No connection and no intimacy. This is all about his release. My face is completely covered by my shirt when he plunges into me. The force of his hips cause the blanket to twist and bunch up, covering me as well. I’m an empty vessel that Tim is simply using and he doesn’t even respect me enough to look me in the eye while he does it.
The monotonous in and out, in and out, does nothing for me. Not like that matters to Tim. He said it himself; this is all about him anyway. It always is and I see now that it always will be if I continue to stay in this mess. I try to let my mind drift to happier times with him; but there are few, very few, that he hasn’t ruined lately with digs at me.
I was so determined to make this work. I had even convinced myself that my pregnancy was a sign that we belonged together. So I stayed, and put all my faith into Tim. Waiting patiently for him to open up to me and be a father to our daughter. However, Tim never acknowledges her unless she is in his way of getting what he wants. He looks at her like an inconvenience. I don’t know what more to do, but in my head I am screaming.
This can’t be all there is for me in life, can it?
My mind continues to drift until he finally stills above me. “Shit, you could at least move or something,” he grunts, rolling off me. “Fucking you is like bangin’ a goddamn corpse.”
“Sorry,” I answer, rolling out of bed and righting my clothes. “I have dishes to do,” I add in a hushed tone with my eyes to the floor.
Dammit, stop being so fucking weak, Rachel! Quit apologizing to this asshole!
“You better keep that kid quiet. I should’ve been asleep already,” he says coldly as I close the door.
Once I clean myself up, I finish the dishes. By the time I put the last plate in the drainer, my anger and resentment is boiling over. I can’t bear the cold way he is with me any longer. It is as if he is repulsed by me. Like he hates me. Though he has no problem looking over it the moment his dick gets hard.
While I was pregnant with Alyssa, I overheard him talking to his buddies one night about his ex. “A guy can get it up for anything with a willing hole.” He then continued to tell them how he kept her around just for regular sex. The thought still makes me ill, but yet I stay. Why?
I wish I could turn it off. That I could stop feeling anything for the man he once was. All the constant rejection wouldn’t hurt so badly. My self-esteem is destined to die a slow and painful death if I stay on this hamster wheel. This is no way to live.
The phone rings, making me jump. Quickly, I fumble for the receiver so it doesn’t wake Tim and cause another argument. “Hello?”
“Rach…” A sob chokes out of my sister, Kate’s, voice making my blood run cold.
“What’s wrong,” I ask, pacing the length of the kitchen. My mind begins to spin, overloaded with the possibilities of what could be wrong.
“Dad is sick.” Three words that no one ever wants to hear rattle me to the core. I collapse into the chair beside me, as she continues. “He’s been sick for months and none of us knew.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask in disbelief.
“His kidneys are shutting down. Says it’s complications with his diabetes. He’s been sneaking to dialysis for months.”
“Okay, so why is he speaking up now?” I ask, my hands trembling.
Kate blows out a shaky breath, “He only told us today because he is running out of options. Treatments aren’t working as well as the doctor had hoped. He’s dying, Rach.”
“No,” I gasp into the phone. “This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.” My chest tightens at the thought of losing my father.
“He’s refusing to go on the transplant list. Stubborn, old man told us it’s too late anyway. That he’s made his bed, now it’s time to lie in it.”
“That’s bullshit. There has to be other options. A second opinion?” I say, my mind spinning.
“We can’t let this happen,” she sobs into the phone.
“I’m coming home,” I reply without hesitation.
“You are?” she hiccups. Taking a deep breath, I can hear her softly counting to ten to calm herself down.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I force myself to hold it together. My number one priority is getting Alyssa and me home to St. Louis. I need to be with my family. Besides, there is nothing holding me here in North Carolina anymore. Going to the hall closet, I grab our suitcases. Once I quietly pack the baby’s things, I sneak into the bedroom to begin sorting my own.
Tim is wrapped in the comforter long ways across the bed. My heart aches knowing that we don’t have the relationship that I so desperately want. The exact thing my Mom will be giving up if my Dad dies. They are a poster board model of what it looks like to be incredibly in love. Always touching, laughing, and kissing. After nearly thirty years together, they have never lost that playful infatuation with each other. What I have with Tim is nothing like that; why the hell have I been fighting so hard for it?
The thought of walking away seems like the only option now. It’s crystal clear that even if Dad wasn’t sick, I can’t stay here anymore. It is what is best for Alyssa and me. It is time for Tim to know that I have found my backbone and that I refuse to live this way any longer.
After placing our bags by the door, I dress in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. It may be March, but in North Carolina weather is unpredictable. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take a breath and nudge Tim.
Groaning he rolls over, “What?”
“We need to talk and this can’t wait,” I blurt out, knowing that he is pissed that I have woken him up.
Yanking the cover from his face, he glares at me. “You’re waking me up to talk? Oh, this better be fucking important, woman. That’s all I know.”
I take a deep breath, determined not to let him get to me again. This time I will find my voice. “My sister called.”
“What did that bitch want?” he asks, rolling his eyes.
“Dad’s sick. They need me so I’m going home,” I say pushing back the emotions those words bring to the surface. Part of me wishes he would comfort me, to give me one ounce of the love and support I have given him, but Tim won’t do that. I have learned not to expect it anymore.
His eyes harden, his lips pressing into a hard line. “As usual, you’re giving me no notice. You make plans and I’m what, supposed to just roll with it? You damn well know I can’t take time off with such short notice.”
“I know. I also didn’t ask you.” I nod, attempting to hide the sarcasm in my voice. “Everything the
baby and I need is packed, just throw out the rest, I guess.”
“Why the hell would I do that?” he snaps. Leaning up in bed, he glares at me angrily.
This is where I would usually buckle. That all too familiar feeling creeps over me, making me want to recoil and hide.
Lie down, little doormat. Run from the confrontation because you’re too weak to fight back.
I don’t want all the yelling, or the tears. But, the look on his face tells me it is far too late for that now. Taking a deep breath, I cling to every ounce of strength I have and do the one thing I should have done a long time ago.
I let him have it.
“Just facing the truth. You should be thanking me. Hell, I think it’s about time we lay it all out. You don’t want me, don’t need me. Hell, I don’t even think you fuckin’ like me. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time it felt like we were an actual couple. So, I’m giving you a clean break. No awkwardness. No mess. Alyssa and I will be out of your hair.”
He laughs at my outburst. Sitting up in bed, he stares at me in wonder. The comforter slumps around his waist and there was a time when I would ache for him when he looked like this. Not today. The anger has officially bubbled over the surface to a point where I can’t push it back into the bottle and seal it again. I realize that what we had was never love. This is not the same man I started dating three years ago. The Tim that I fell in love with no longer exists. Now all I feel for him is resentment and sadness for wasted time.
“Wow. I thought you were done pouting,” he chuckles. “I thought before took care of that.”
That’s what it always comes back to with Tim. We fight; he calls me a baby, among other things, and then threatens to throw us out. Not even an hour later, he is all about having sex as if nothing ever happened. Nothing ever resolves or gets discussed further. No emotions and there will definitely be no apologies.
Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) Page 16
