by Ava Catori
We clasped onto one another, holding on tightly, almost afraid to let go. As our mouths met, I had no doubt that what was happening between us right now would push us to the next level of our relationship. It was magic, pure magic, and as he came inside of me, his hips still moving, I wrapped my thighs tightly around him, forbidding his release. I needed him to stay as long as possible, soften inside of me, and only then I’d let go. I was afraid if he pulled out, he’d never do it again. I knew he would, and knew this moment would happen again – but for right now, everything was right in the world.
Tears of joy slid down my face. I hadn’t felt so relieved in a long time, and with everything inside of me, I said a prayer of thanks, grateful that my marriage was going to be okay. I honestly didn’t know at one point, but I knew now. We’d get through this, and we’d get through anything else we encountered – as long as we did it together.
I didn’t know what Austin was thinking, but he was smiling and naked beside me. That was enough.
“That was amazing,” I said softly, looking at my husband, my beautiful husband. I never once lost my desire for him, and only worried he’d lost it for me. It was obvious now, it was there all along. There were simply clouds in his way. I hoped the clouds would stay gone, I didn’t think I could handle those gray days anymore. I missed this, missed us. Having him back, even just for a little bit, was like breathing life back into our relationship.
The way we looked at each other, talked to each other after that night, we had renewed intimacy, and that reflected through everything we did. It was like a weight had been lifted. What was once a dark corner of our marriage, light filtered through, lifting the depression. We felt like a true couple again. We weren’t pretending, just going through the motions, we were truly healing.
Austin had issues time to time, but the more we were together, the less prevalent it seemed. It seemed to restore his confidence. Once he let go of that fear – knowing I’d be okay if he couldn’t get fully hard, as long as he showed me he cared and desired me, it seemed like less and less of an issue. Without communication, we’d shut down, but the more we discussed it, the easier it became. With his confidence coming back, and our love life improving, we felt stronger than ever.
The one thing he was still having a problem with, was his concern that he’d never feel normal again. While we’d tackled this issue and beat it, he held onto the fact that he might never be completely stable. He’d learned coping mechanisms, he had medication that helped with the anxiety, but through it all, there were still days he felt broken.
Ryan was his saving grace, and his purpose for pushing forward. Watching him with our son, I knew he’d be okay. I just wished he could see what I saw. All he knew was that some days were still a struggle, and they grew old and tiresome. There were less bad days, and more good days, but we had new challenges to overcome. When his father grew ill, everything changed.
Chapter Nine
The call came unexpectedly; it was bad news. Austin went straight to the hospital. It was his least favorite place to be, but he knew he didn’t have much time. His father was rushed by ambulance after what appeared to be a heart attack. On further testing, he’d not only had a heart attack, but on falling cracked ribs and punctured a lung which was making breathing difficult. It was all too much on his body, and organ after organ was shutting down.
With a firm do not resuscitate order – there was no life support. There were no second chances, and slowly a life faded from existence.
When Austin brought his mother home, I saw the fearless woman crumble like a tower of blocks. She was the shell of the strength I’d seen before. Her pale, slender form showed her internal panic. Her husband was gone. Her skin was almost transparent, and her veins had never been as obvious. The highway of blue lines snaked across her face, neck and hands. She looked at me with dull, dead eyes, and no expression.
I pulled out a blanket and sheets and made up the sofa, so she’d have a place to rest. Austin sat with her in silence all night. I told them both how sorry I was, and then left them to grieve together. One of us needed sleep. We had long days ahead of us.
When I woke with Ryan, I crept down the stairs. His mother stared at me with tear stained cheeks, her eyes bloodshot from spending the night crying. She had nothing to say.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Austin who was now passed out on a chair nearby.
She didn’t say anything, simply nodded. My heart broke for the woman, she couldn’t hide the agony she was in, and sat stunned, staring ahead.
Heading to the kitchen, I juggled Ryan on my hip, to start the coffee. I didn’t think caffeine was the right choice, so I pulled the instant decaf out of the cabinet. It was something, but at some point, Austin’s mom would need to sleep. On second thought…I put the coffee back and pulled out the tea bags. I brought it out as an offering, “Mrs. Sharpe,” I said quietly. She’d never asked me to call her Mom, or even by her first name. Even marrying into the family, I was an outsider in her eyes. The only good thing I’d done is given her a grandson.
“Can I hold him?” She asked, and set the tea on the table beside her.
“Sure,” I said, praying she had the strength to hold onto a wiggling infant. Thankfully, he was content to snuggle.
“How’s my precious boy?” She asked, kissing his forehead. She had a heart; I’d just rarely seen it.
“Does Maggie know?” I asked hesitantly. Ryan’s sister had her own life that rarely seemed to overlap with theirs these days.
“Yes, she’ll be here in time for the service,” she said, not offering up more.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” she paused, “thank you.”
I almost passed out. She’d never once thanked me before, but I hated it was under these circumstances.
Austin stirred and then found a new position. It was going to be a long day.
**
After the service, life was supposed to go on as normal, only it didn’t. Austin spiraled back into a depression, understandably so, and his mother decided to stay on a bit longer. Only in her need to stay busy and distracted, she started taking over more and more of our household. I didn’t want to step on her toes, after what she’d been through, but her usual crass ways were seeping out, and it got more difficult to hold my tongue.
I didn’t feed my family proper nutrition, and I dressed like a slob, and the housework was lacking, but with her here now she’d handle things as they should be. I tried, really I did – but now she was in my home, trying to run our lives, and while she’d just dealt with the traumatic loss of her husband, I was in the process of losing the sanctuary of my home.
Austin didn’t want to be in the middle of it, and didn’t say anything. As far as he was concerned, with his mother helping around the house and with Ryan, it took pressure off of me. Only he didn’t see me drowning; my own depression sneaking up on me. With my mother-in-law here more times than not, I didn’t know where my happiness lived anymore.
She took a leave of absence at work and was considering retiring – to move in with us. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There was no way she was living here – no way in hell.
Her plan was to sell the house, and use it to fund her retirement, but that meant staying with us permanently. Austin was beside himself, wanting to be there for his mother, but knowing it would jeopardize our marriage. There wasn’t going to be an easy answer here, and he knew it.
The fights that grew out of our new circumstance put a wedge firmly in place. I was asking Austin to choose, and all he could see was his once strong mother, wilting like a picked flower. He was convinced I was able to handle this, and with a few ground rules in place, and the understanding that it was my home and respect would need to be mutual, we made the unfortunate decision to let her move in with us. I was tortured that he’d made his choice, and at this point, unless I was moving out – she was moving in.
She
made a peace offering, knowing I wasn’t a fan of the idea, and asked me to call her Caroline. Really? That’s the big peace offering? I swallowed my pride, what little bit I had left, and greeted her with a smile. It made me sick, the idea of her living here. There was a wall between Austin and me already with everything going on, and this would make it near impossible to tear down.
Where we’d once healed, we’d broken apart again. I was selfless he said, taking her in – when he knew damn well I wasn’t given a real choice. I was bitter and angry.
Caroline slept in Ryan’s room, after we set up a bed for her. She woke with him in the mornings, and while it was nice to sleep in a bit, I missed seeing his sleepy face first thing on waking. She found a reason to function in Ryan. She fed him, dressed him, bathed him, and sang to him.
She doted on him, but pushed out the time Austin and I spent with him. I’d go to get him, and she’d jump in, “Let me do that.” I know she thought she was being helpful, but I felt like she was stepping on my toes, taking over my life. I selfishly wanted my child back to myself.
Dinner was served by the time I got home, and Heather was no longer watching Ryan. I wanted to be thankful, but as the days and then weeks wore on, I started to feel useless. What did they need me for, if she was doing everything?
Money was handled, food was cooked, and my boys were taken care of. Chores were done, and by the time I got home from work, there was nothing left to do. I should have been grateful there was less to do, but it didn’t work that way. Instead I fell into a funk, feeling replaced.
In a weird twist, Austin seemed stronger. It was like he felt the need to take care of us all finally. I wish it had kicked in earlier, but he had his own issues to deal with. He was finally serious about finishing his classes and starting his apprenticeship. He was so close, that I really believed he’d make it this time.
I was happy for him, but as he was getting stronger, I was taking a long desperate slide to an emotionless depression, and sat in shades of gray more than color these days. Contentment seemed a far reach, and happiness was gone.
My second pregnancy couldn’t have come at a worse time. All I could do was cry, feeling trapped in my situation. What should have been a joyful moment was anything but. I dwelled in the reality of my home life, and tried to find the happiness in what was happening.
When I was ordered on bed rest, it was the moment Caroline’s presence felt like a blessing. I couldn’t have done it all by myself, wouldn’t have been able to, and in some weird way, I made peace with the fact that she was here – at least for now. We even started to talk a little bit, and the walls of hostility that had been there for so long, finally started to come down.
In the hours of being housebound together, Caroline finally spoke to me like a person. She spoke of missing her husband, and what her pregnancies were like, and as she opened up to me, seeing I wasn’t the enemy, something changed. We were nicer to each other, and a pseudo-friendship formed. We were no longer at each other’s throats, but accepted the other into our lives. I wouldn’t have guessed this was a possibility, but here I was about to have a second child, and Austin’s mother had finally accepted me, knowing how much I loved her son.
We realized with a new family member on the way, the house would be getting even more crowded. Caroline was sharing a room with Ryan. We decided we’d find a new alternative before I delivered, though packing and moving through pregnancy was going to be tiring.
Combining our resources, and with a Veteran’s loan, we were able to qualify for a small house with a yard, that offered an additional bedroom and bathroom. As my belly swelled, we started the process of packing and moving our home. It was a fresh start, and as I waddled around trying to settle into the new residence, I thought back on how much things had changed since I first met Austin.
The rush of excitement, realizing I was in love, Austin’s deployment, our marriage, his Post-traumatic stress disorder diagnosis, our first child, his father’s death, his mother moving in with us, and now a second child on the way. No wonder my head was spinning – in the last few years, so much had taken place, that there was barely any room for us to work on our relationship.
With everything taking priority, I realized we’d put ourselves on the backburner. It was time to fix that, and rediscover what we once had, or we’d be forever in a shuffle of putting our relationship last.
After our daughter was born, I made the commitment to myself to tackle this head on. I wasn’t taking no for an answer, as I desperately wanted my husband fully back in my life.
Austin’s apprenticeship was going well, and his confidence was climbing. His mother and I had found balance, and our new angel Brianna was here. Pretty soon, Austin would be starting his own business, and I’d be back to work. With Caroline here to help with the kids, we’d found a pattern that finally seemed to give everybody what they needed - time, space, and respect.
Chapter Ten
When Austin suggested a long weekend away, I was nervous and excited. It would be our first time away from the children, but Caroline was so good with them; I knew they’d be okay. He suggested we return to the bed and breakfast down at the beach – the one we’d visited before. I’d been hoping to rekindle our spark, and this seemed like a great place to start.
The only thing plaguing me was my softer shape. I hadn’t lost the baby weight yet, and my tummy was looking pouchy. I didn’t feel very sexy, but I missed my husband terribly. I’d have to get over my current body issues, and be grateful for time alone with him.
Like a bad habit, sex fell out of our patterns again. We hadn’t been intimate as much as we’d like recently, between his mother living with us, the children, and our own internal stress. I was given the okay by my doctor that I was clear to have sex, but while there was a piece of me that was happy, it was almost like it was a safe excuse as to why we avoided it. With a valid reason, we couldn’t place blame.
I knew a lot of it had to do with stress, because we were barely active through my pregnancy, or before that with his father’s passing, his mom moving in, his Post-traumatic stress issues, and medications he was dealing with…and well, I wasn’t exactly making a big deal to invite him into our bed with open arms.
It was now or never. We make a calculated attempt at getting things back on course, or they’d continue to spiral out of control.
I figured if he wanted me enough he’d make the effort, but it takes two and I certainly didn’t welcome those advances for a while. Not like there were a ton of them, but it just wasn’t my priority. I’m as much to blame here as anyone.
We had a chance, and we were both ready to take it.
Pulling up to The Sandcastle, Austin parked the car on the pebbled driveway. I smiled seeing the familiar bed and breakfast. It was as charming as I remembered, and flashing back to our previous experience, I felt like this was the perfect choice for the weekend.
The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable; I think we were both enjoying the peaceful drive with light music playing. With two kids, quiet was treasure these days. We hadn’t been talking much anyway, not to point out the obvious, but we had a divide between us and desperately needed to bridge the gap.
“Watch your step,” he grinned, before getting out.
“What are you saying?” I said, cautiously climbing from the vehicle. “At least this time, I managed to stay on my feet,” I smiled.
Gathering our bags from the trunk, we headed inside. Tripping up the stairs, I fell and burst out laughing.
“Not again?” Austin shook his head, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just…yeah, I fell up the steps.” I said sheepishly.
“Last time we were here, you tripped getting out of the car,” he laughed. “You’re a handful. Still learning to use your feet? Most people trip down stairs, not up them.”
I grinned at my husband, and righted myself. “Let’s go, Romeo.” I was a natural catastrophe on my own feet sometimes.
Greeting the owner,
we were shown to our room. I smiled walking through the doorway, remembering our past visit. We were so in love. I’m still in love, but it’s different. Stress, children, money, his mother, it’s taken a lot out of us lately. I hated how detached we felt half the time. We were going through the motions, and if we were lucky we’d share a romantic moment eventually. Being back here reminded me how great it could be. I wanted that back. I wanted the passion.
There was a mixed bouquet of fresh flowers on one of the tables. Going over, I inhaled deeply, taking in the mix of floral fragrances. It was one of the little special details of the room, real flowers rather than some green plastic or silk plant so many places rely on these days.
We slowly unpacked, talking about nothing in particular. It wasn’t awkward, but there wasn’t the same rush to get naked and busy as there once was. Instead, we relaxed discussing what we could do while we were here. We’d grown into a mature relationship, one with marriage and kids, and one where the lust had dwindled. It was obvious as we sat in the room made for loving.
We used to be in such a hurry to get undressed and snuggle under the covers together, and yet today there was no rush. There were simply two people looking at one another, hoping to rekindle a lost spark. There was hope, but also a bit of faded glory, realizing how far we’d let things slide.
I wanted him to wrap his arms around me, tell me how much he’s missed me. What was once a comfortable silence became awkward.
“Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” He was scrambling, trying to kill the dead space between us.
“Sure, I’d like that,” I said. What happened? I was ready for time alone, and now here we are, and we’re like two teens on a first date, uncertain what to do next. I thought it would be as easy as flipping a switch, but something was missing.
The sand was soft on my feet, and as he reached over to take my hand, I smiled at the familiar feel of his hand in mine. There was a sense of security, telling me we were still connected even though we were struggling to find our way. Lately, I wasn’t sure. I mean, I know we were committed, but otherwise the spark we once shared was so dim most of the time it was hard to see. Was I being fickle, holding out for what we used to have? I knew I’d have to settle for what we are now.
