Every Wrong Reason

by Rachel Higginson

  Fiona looked a little lost with nothing to hold or scold. Her eyes moved around my entryway and living room, looking for something new or breakable she should put up, out of her children’s reach.

  She had always been remarkably beautiful. Her long hair was a soft, supple brown that fell in the kind of glossy waves that belonged in a shampoo commercial. And her eyes were the same rich, coffee-with-cream hue. She’d put on some weight since having her kids, but it looked good on her. It gave her that curvy, pin-up girl figure. She was one of the lucky human beings that could gain weight in all the right places. Like her boobs. I could never gain weight in my boobs. But you’d better be damn sure that was always the first place I lost it. My body hated me.

  Satisfied with my preventative measures, she turned back around and asked, “But what are we going to do in five minutes when they’ve eaten you out of house and home and they’re bored with the new toys?”

  “Then I have Netflix.”

  “God, you’re good.”

  I grinned at her. “Anything to spend time with you! Do you want a drink? Or a snack?” I started walking toward the kitchen. “I made cookies!”

  “What kind?” She followed after me. “And are they burnt?”

  “Chocolate chip. And half of them.”

  “Give the burned ones to the kids.”

  I laughed at her. “Won’t they notice?”

  “As long as they taste sugar, they will literally eat anything. They’re like locusts.”

  I whirled around and pulled her into a hug, gently keeping the baby out of the way. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you!” We released each other and she took a seat at the table, immediately pulling a few Legos to her so she could fiddle. “But I was hoping you’d put on a bunch of weight. Like at least a hundred pounds. I hate how skinny you are.”

  Knowing she was just being snarky, I ignored her sassy comment. “Yeah, well, divorce will do that to you.”

  “I still can’t believe you and Nick are getting a divorce! It doesn’t seem possible. You guys have always been perfect for each other!”

  Her words stung. There was a silent accusation there that I only picked up because I knew her so well. I focused on doling out the cookies. “Obviously not. We fought all the time. I couldn’t make him happy and he couldn’t make me happy. You haven’t been around us much in the last couple years, Fi. It’s been bad.”

  She let out a patient sigh and reached for more Legos. “Come on, Kate. You know better than that. You guys weren’t perfect for each other because you never fought. You were perfect for each other because you can still love each other even if you’re fighting.”

  “But I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of disagreeing about everything, of always being on the defensive. I’m sick and tired of hating myself.”

  Her gaze snapped up to catch mine and her eyes glittered with the gravity of the moment. “Then stop.”

  “That’s what I’m trying-”

  “No, I don’t mean get a divorce so you don’t have to deal with him anymore. I mean stop fighting with him. Stop being defensive. Stop disagreeing and disrespecting him.”

  I tilted my chin stubbornly. “It’s not that easy and you know it.”

  “It is, Kate. Be in control. Be in control of your words and actions. Take control if it doesn’t come naturally to you. Do something other than throw away a perfectly good man and a perfectly good marriage because you’re tired of going through what every other married couple on the planet goes through.”

  Her words landed with the subtlety of an atom bomb and I wanted to dive into my cabinets for cover. How dare she. “That’s easy for you to say. You have Austin.”

  Her gaze that had been firm yet gentle narrowed dangerously. “You think we don’t fight? Kate, everybody fights. Just wait until you throw a couple kids in the mix.”

  Her words were like a kick in the gut and I physically recoiled. Annie danced around my legs, sensing trouble.

  Fiona pushed to her feet, the chair scraping back against the floor. “Kate, I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head, desperate to keep the tears at bay.

  “I didn’t mean that,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean… Damn.”

  Gigi and Jack giggled and scolded their mom for using a bad word, but she ignored them. She took a few careful steps toward me. Her empty hands looked emptier than usual and the anguish on her face was clear.

  I held Jonah against my chest as if he could rub some baby germs off on me. Maybe if I snuggled with him long enough, held him in my arms long enough, maybe then my body would know what to do.

  Maybe my uterus would wake the hell up.

  “Kate, please,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

  Fiona and I had known each other for a long time and we’d always been straight with each other. We weren’t as close as Kara and I were, but only because we didn’t see each other every day. And Kara and I were childless; we could get together almost whenever we wanted. Fiona didn’t have that kind of freedom. So even if she didn’t know the minutia of my life, she knew all of the big stuff.

  She always knew the big stuff.

  Like how long Nick and I had been trying to have a baby. She was the first person and only person I told when we started trying. I hadn’t been able to hold in my excitement.

  I’d thought it would be easy.

  Fiona had been with me the whole time. Encouraging me. Crying out of frustration with me. Giving advice and suggesting tricks she’d looked up on the internet. And getting furious when I couldn’t stand the failure anymore.

  Because that was what it came down to. Failure.

  What was wrong with my body?

  Why could every other woman in the world get pregnant except me?

  Was this the universe trying to tell me I shouldn’t be a mother? That I was somehow unfit?

  That I was somehow unworthy?

  “God, Kate, don’t look like that.” Fiona stood at my side, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her chin pressed to my temple.

  She wasn’t much taller than me, but at some point I’d bowed my head and tried to curl into myself. I held Jonah against my chest and let the sorrow fill me.

  I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry over this anymore. I’d spilled too many tears and dealt with too much heartbreak.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to cry. It was just that it didn’t fix anything. If crying helped my infertility, I would have had hundreds of kids by now.

  “It’s not fair, Fi,” I sniffled.

  With the tone that only a mother can carry, she whispered, “Life rarely is.” We stood there until Jack needed his mom’s help and Gigi got restless.

  Eventually, we moved into the living room where the kids could curl up with us and watch a movie. Fiona took Jonah back so she could nurse him. I exchanged a real baby for my fur baby. Annie crawled up on my lap and nudged my hand with her cold, wet nose until I stroked her back and scratched behind her ears.

  Gigi eventually fell asleep against my side and Jack wandered back into the kitchen to play Legos again. My friend’s kids were amazing. Well behaved and adventurous. They could be handfuls of chaos, but they were sweet and respectful too.

  In college, Fiona had been a little wild. Even at the beginning of their marriage, she and Austin had loved to go out and party. But as soon as she found out she was pregnant with Jack, she changed. It was like she found her purpose in life, her meaning.

  I watched her grow from sorority girl to super mom overnight and I could not have been prouder.

  I wondered if that was the difference. I wanted to be a mom, but I also loved my career. Nothing hurt more than not being able to have a child, but at the same time I couldn’t imagine giving up teaching.

  I couldn’t imagine not going to work every day or making a paycheck.

  Was that the difference? Was that why Fiona could get pregnant just by ovulating and I couldn’t manage to conceive once, no matter how many books I
read or weird oils I rubbed on my stomach or how many times I tilted my hips in the right position and tracked my cycles like an obsessive maniac?

  Halloween had been the first time Nick and I had spontaneous sex in over two years. We were slaves to the cycle… to the ovulation.

  No wonder Halloween had been so hot.

  “I’m sorry I got mad at you,” I said quietly.

  Fi’s sly smile told me she had already forgiven me. “I’m sorry I was so bossy. I should know when to keep my mouth shut by now.”

  I wrinkled my nose at her. “Babe, if you haven’t learned how to keep quiet by now, I doubt it’s ever going to happen.”

  Her laughter stirred Jonah, who was sleeping against her chest. She stared down at him, rocking him gently to coax him back to sleep. “This will happen for you, Kate. I know it will.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. “I’m not sure it will.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I held up my hand to stop her. “I’m thirty, Fi. And I’m in the middle of a divorce. Who knows when or if I’ll ever meet another guy. And let me just be clear that I am not ready to jump into another relationship. My biological clock is ticking. No, not ticking. It’s on a countdown timer. One that’s attached to a bomb and hidden in the underground parking garage of a mall. The chances of diffusing that thing are slim to none.”

  “So what you’re telling me is you need John McClane.”

  “Or Jack Bauer.”

  “Tom Cruise?” When I gave her a funny look, she clarified, “Mission Impossible Tom Cruise.”

  I laughed, “Yes, that’s what I need. I need Mission Impossible Tom Cruise without the weird religion and couch jumping.”

  “What does it say about you that you knew who John McClane was but didn’t get the Tom Cruise reference?”

  “Nick loved the Die Hard movies.”

  “So does Austin.”

  “It used to be our Christmas movie. Not It’s a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story. No, we watched Die Hard.”

  She grinned at me. “That’s adorable.”

  “Then he’d quote the movie for weeks. ‘Now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho.’” I picked at the seam of my couch. “I’ve actually missed it this year. I can’t make myself watch any of the other stupid movies. I just want Bruce Willis with hair.”

  In a soft, caring voice, she said, “Maybe you just want Nick.”

  Now the tears came. I held them back, but I felt them hot and broken against my eyes. “It’s too late for us, Fi. I promise it is. I know you’re all about rainbows and unicorns, but there is no fixing us. We are beyond broken.”

  I could tell she wanted to say more, but this time she didn’t. She reached out and squeezed my hand and discussion moved to gossiping about everyone we went to school with.

  It amazed me how she was able to keep up with everyone. She was like an internet detective.

  It was actually kind of scary.

  An hour later, Gigi woke up and our quiet afternoon turned to mayhem. Gigi had not woken up happy and Jack was bored with Legos now that his sister was around to bother him. Fiona bundled them all up again and herded them toward the door. We said goodbye and promised to do this again soon.

  It wouldn’t happen for months, but the promise was enough to keep us optimistic.

  “I’ll come to you next time,” I told her. “That way you don’t have to do this again.” I waved at the coats, hats, mittens, boots and other little odds and ends that had taken us twenty minutes, even working together.

  “Don’t you dare,” she huffed. “You would be horrified by the mess. Besides, it’s good for us to get out of the house. I swear to god, sometimes it feels like I’m a prisoner there.”

  “Stop,” I laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

  “It must be why we’re such good friends. We understand each other.”

  I gasped, surprised by her dig. “What does that mean?”

  She just winked at me. She picked up the baby in his car seat and wobbled. “Geez, this thing is heavy.”

  “The thing being your baby?”

  Her eyes went big and defensive, “Yes! He’s huge!”

  “Love you, Fi.”

  “Love you too, K.” She kissed my cheek and gave me a quick squeeze. “I’m not giving up on Nick,” she whispered. “Or you.”

  Then she turned around and yelled at her kids to get in the car before they froze to death. I didn’t have a chance to ask her what she meant by that or why she couldn’t just let us go. She disappeared out the door before I could even formulate a sentence.

  I watched her go with a swirling sense of dizziness. My hands landed on my abdomen and I couldn’t help but feel the fresh, sharp disappointment that nothing had come of my one-night stand with Nick.

  I hadn’t even thought a child was a possibility until he said something in our mediation. I had stopped letting myself entertain the idea a long time ago.

  But I also wondered about my motive for having a baby. What Fiona and Austin had was incredible. They loved each other like nobody I had ever known. They loved having babies too. Their children were born out of love and mutual respect for each other. They were born into a home filled with laughter and affection. They were raised by parents who adored each other.

  When Nick and I first started talking about having a baby, it seemed more a way to fix our splintering marriage than anything else. I had thought a child would force him to grow up… to get a real job. And I was ninety percent sure he’d assumed that if I had a child, I would get off his case.

  But the longer we tried without results, the more I realized I wanted one. I had this hole inside of me… this baby-sized emptiness. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to see the result that would be an even mixture of Nick and me.

  Would he have Nick’s eyes?

  Would she have my good skin?

  I wanted to grow our small household and become something more than just a couple. I wanted to become a family.

  I didn’t know if Nick had felt the same way at the end. Our efforts became tedious and about as unromantic as possible by the end of it. Sex had been nothing more than a chore… a tiresome activity that we were both disappointed with before we ever began.

  And it was really a tragedy. Nick and I had always had amazing sex before we tried to have kids. It was what fueled the first couple years of our marriage. I had been as wrapped up in lust with my husband as I was love.

  But that had dwindled, then died completely when it became about charting and ovulating and doing everything just right.

  I hadn’t realized it until now. Which seemed silly, but maybe I was too caught up in the moment to see the bigger picture.

  God, I hated that we’d lost that heat… that spark that made us want to touch each other all the time.

  But maybe that wasn’t just the infertility?

  Maybe all married couples eventually fell out of lust. My parents had. Not that I wanted to think about that, but I couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched each other.

  Kara and her first husband had. And really fast.

  Fiona and Austin hadn’t… but they had to be some kind of anomaly. They weren’t normal. Sex became boring for most couples. It became a chore whether they had kids, were trying for kids or never had any.

  It was just impossible to stay sexually attracted to one person for the rest of your life.

  I glanced back at the wall in the entryway.

  No, that was wrong. That was a lie. I had never been more attracted to Nick than that night. My skin flushed and heated as I thought about how his body pressed against mine or how his lips felt as he tasted my skin and urged me to give him everything I had. Everything I was.

  But it didn’t matter anyway because it had been a mistake.

  A crazy mistake.

  Even though it was impossible to regret it completely. Mostly because I knew I would never have sex like that again.

  I would never feel that hot again… like my skin was on fire… like his lips
would turn me into unquenchable flames and his touch would incinerate every inch of me.

  By the time I’d cleaned up the kitchen, the table filled with Legos and the living room, I had almost convinced myself that our sex life would have become dull and boring no matter what. It wasn’t the baby. It was life. It wasn’t the frustration of not conceiving. It was marriage and the years passing us by and everything that came between us.

  And I had almost convinced myself to stop thinking about Halloween.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  Chapter Nineteen

  26. I deserve someone who loves me for me.

  When I walked through the door Christmas night, I had never felt lower. Christmas with my parents had been beyond draining. Even though Josh and Emily had been there with the girls¸ my mom had been in rare form.

  It was like she went out of her way to remind me how alone I was. Not that she needed to try very hard. My single status had never been clearer.

  On top of Josh and Emily and their undying love for each other, I had been forced to watch my parents dote on each other.

  Christmas did that to people. I knew that. Even Nick and I had been able to get along on Christmas. But I always thought my parents survived by never touching each other.

  Not this year.

  I set my opened presents down on the kitchen table so I could bend over and greet Annie. “I’m sorry I left you alone all day,” I cooed to her. “I should have brought you with me.” She danced on her cute little paws and licked my palms.

  I picked her up¸ unable to keep from holding her against my hurting heart. A single tear slid from the corner of my eye and I couldn’t figure out why I suddenly felt the urge to cry.

  My parents usually grated against every one of my nerves, but rarely did they reduce me to tears.

  Swiping the back of my hand against the silly show of emotion I didn’t understand, I decided that I was just overemotional. This was the first Christmas I had ever spent alone.

  I was bound to be upset. And confused. And nostalgic. And heartbroken.

  Those were completely normal feelings to have after walking into a dark, empty house with no one to greet me but my dog.