All Your Perfects
Page 40
“We can get back to that, Quinn. I know we can.”
He’s so hopeful when he says it. And naïve. “How?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that question. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel broken. Everything broken in our marriage stems from me, and he can’t fix me. I’m sure if he could somehow fix our sex life, that would be enough to appease him for a few more years.
“Do you think we should have sex more often?” Graham almost looks offended by my question. “That would make you happier, right?”
He traces an invisible line on the table, looking down at it until he begins to speak. “I won’t lie and say I’m happy with our sex life. But I’m also not going to pretend that’s the only thing I wish were different. What I want more than anything is for you to want to be my wife.”
“No, what you want is for me to be the wife I used to be. I don’t think you want me as I am now.”
Graham stares at me a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Is it so bad that I missed it when I was convinced that you were in love with me? When you would get excited to see me? When you wanted to make love to me because you wanted to and not because you just wanted to get pregnant?” He leans forward, pegging me with his stare. “We can’t have kids, Quinn. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I didn’t marry you for the potential kids we might have had together one day. I fell in love with you and I committed to you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I cared about when I said my vows. But I’m starting to realize that maybe you didn’t marry me for the same reasons.”
“That’s not fair,” I say quietly. He can’t insinuate that I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known he couldn’t have kids. And he can’t say he still would have married me if he’d had that knowledge prior to our marriage. A person can’t confidently proclaim what they would have done or how they would have felt in a situation they’ve never been in.
Graham stands up and walks to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and I sit silently as he drinks it. I wait for him to come back to the table to continue the conversation, because I’m not ready to speak again. I need to know everything he’s feeling before I decide what to say. What to do. When he takes his seat again, he reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. He looks at me sincerely.
“I will never put a single ounce of blame on you for what I did. I kissed someone who wasn’t you and that was my fault. But that’s only one issue out of a dozen issues we have in this marriage and they are not all my fault. I can’t help you when I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” He pulls my hand closer and cradles it between both of his. “I know that I have put you through hell these past few weeks. And I am so, so sorry for that. More than you know. But if you can forgive me for putting you through the worst thing imaginable, then I know we can get through the rest of it. I know we can.”
He’s looking at me with so much hope in his expression. I guess that’s easy to do when he honestly believes him kissing someone else is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
If I weren’t so outraged, I would laugh. I pull my hand away from him.
I stand up.
I try to suck in a breath, but I had no idea anger settled in the lungs.
When I’m finally able to respond to him, I do it slowly and quietly because if there’s anything I need for Graham to understand, it’s everything I’m about to say. I lean forward and press my palms against the table, staring directly at him.
“The fact that you think what you did with that woman was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me proves that you have no idea what I’ve been through. You have no idea what it’s like to experience infertility. Because you aren’t experiencing infertility, Graham. I am. Don’t get that confused. You can fuck another woman and make a baby. I can’t fuck another man and make a baby.” I push off the table and spin around. I planned to take a moment and gather my thoughts, but apparently, I don’t need a moment, because I immediately turn and face him again. “And I loved making love to you, Graham. It’s not you I didn’t want. It was the agony that came afterward. Your infidelity is a walk in the park compared to what I experienced month after month every time we had sex and it lead to nothing but an orgasm. An orgasm! Big fucking deal! How was I supposed to admit that to you? There was no way I could admit that I grew to despise every hug and every kiss and every touch because all of it would lead to the worst day of my life every twenty-eight fucking days!” I push past the chair and walk away from the table. “Fuck you and your affair. I don’t give a fuck about your affair, Graham.”
I walk into the kitchen as soon as I’m finished. I don’t even want to look at him right now. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been and I’m scared of what it did to him. I’m also scared that I don’t care what it did to him.
I don’t even know why I’m arguing issues that are irrelevant. I can’t get pregnant now no matter how much we fight about the past.
I pour myself a glass of water and sip from it while I calm down.
A few silent moments go by before Graham moves from the table. He walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter in front of me, crossing his feet at the ankles. When I work up the courage to look at his eyes, I’m surprised to see a calmness in them. Even after the harsh words that just left my mouth, he somehow still looks at me like he doesn’t absolutely hate me.
We stare at each other, both of us dry-eyed and full of years’ worth of things we should never have kept bottled up. Despite his calmness and his lack of animosity, he looks deflated by everything I just yelled at him—like my words were safety pins, poking holes in him, letting all the air out.
I can tell by the exhaustion in his expression that he’s given up again. I don’t blame him. Why keep fighting for someone who is no longer fighting for you?
Graham closes his eyes and grips the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He cycles through a calming breath before folding both arms over his chest. He shakes his head, like he’s finally come to a realization that he never wanted to come to. “No matter how hard I try . . . no matter how much I love you . . . I can’t be the one thing you’ve always wanted me to be, Quinn. I will never be a father.”
A tear immediately falls from my eye. And then another. But I remain stoic as he steps toward me.
“If this is what our marriage is . . . if this is all it will ever be . . . just me and you . . . will that be enough? Am I enough for you, Quinn?”
I’m confounded. Speechless.
I stare at him in utter disbelief, unable to answer him. Not because I can’t. I know the answer to his question. I’ve always known the answer. But I stay silent because I’m not sure I should answer him.
The silence that lingers between his question and my answer creates the biggest misunderstanding our marriage has ever seen. Graham’s jaw hardens. His eyes harden. Everything—even his heart—hardens. He looks away from me because my silence means something different to him than what it means to me.
He walks out of the kitchen, toward the guest room. Probably to get his suitcase and leave again. It takes everything in me not to run after him and beg him to stay. I want to fall to my knees and tell him that if on our wedding day, someone had forced me to choose between the possibility of having children or spending a life with Graham, I would have chosen life with him. Without a doubt, I would have chosen him.
I can’t believe our marriage has come to this point. The point where my behavior has convinced Graham that he’s not enough for me. He is enough for me.
The problem is . . . he could be so much more without me.
I blow out a shaky breath and turn around, pressing my palms into the counter. The agony of knowing what I’m doing to him makes my entire body tremble.
When he emerges from the hallway, he’s not holding his suitcase. He’s holding something else.
The box.
He brought our box with him?
He walks into the kitchen and sets it beside me on the counter. “If you don’t tell me to stop, we’re opening it.”
He’s so hopeful when he says it. And naïve. “How?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that question. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel broken. Everything broken in our marriage stems from me, and he can’t fix me. I’m sure if he could somehow fix our sex life, that would be enough to appease him for a few more years.
“Do you think we should have sex more often?” Graham almost looks offended by my question. “That would make you happier, right?”
He traces an invisible line on the table, looking down at it until he begins to speak. “I won’t lie and say I’m happy with our sex life. But I’m also not going to pretend that’s the only thing I wish were different. What I want more than anything is for you to want to be my wife.”
“No, what you want is for me to be the wife I used to be. I don’t think you want me as I am now.”
Graham stares at me a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Is it so bad that I missed it when I was convinced that you were in love with me? When you would get excited to see me? When you wanted to make love to me because you wanted to and not because you just wanted to get pregnant?” He leans forward, pegging me with his stare. “We can’t have kids, Quinn. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I didn’t marry you for the potential kids we might have had together one day. I fell in love with you and I committed to you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I cared about when I said my vows. But I’m starting to realize that maybe you didn’t marry me for the same reasons.”
“That’s not fair,” I say quietly. He can’t insinuate that I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known he couldn’t have kids. And he can’t say he still would have married me if he’d had that knowledge prior to our marriage. A person can’t confidently proclaim what they would have done or how they would have felt in a situation they’ve never been in.
Graham stands up and walks to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and I sit silently as he drinks it. I wait for him to come back to the table to continue the conversation, because I’m not ready to speak again. I need to know everything he’s feeling before I decide what to say. What to do. When he takes his seat again, he reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. He looks at me sincerely.
“I will never put a single ounce of blame on you for what I did. I kissed someone who wasn’t you and that was my fault. But that’s only one issue out of a dozen issues we have in this marriage and they are not all my fault. I can’t help you when I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” He pulls my hand closer and cradles it between both of his. “I know that I have put you through hell these past few weeks. And I am so, so sorry for that. More than you know. But if you can forgive me for putting you through the worst thing imaginable, then I know we can get through the rest of it. I know we can.”
He’s looking at me with so much hope in his expression. I guess that’s easy to do when he honestly believes him kissing someone else is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
If I weren’t so outraged, I would laugh. I pull my hand away from him.
I stand up.
I try to suck in a breath, but I had no idea anger settled in the lungs.
When I’m finally able to respond to him, I do it slowly and quietly because if there’s anything I need for Graham to understand, it’s everything I’m about to say. I lean forward and press my palms against the table, staring directly at him.
“The fact that you think what you did with that woman was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me proves that you have no idea what I’ve been through. You have no idea what it’s like to experience infertility. Because you aren’t experiencing infertility, Graham. I am. Don’t get that confused. You can fuck another woman and make a baby. I can’t fuck another man and make a baby.” I push off the table and spin around. I planned to take a moment and gather my thoughts, but apparently, I don’t need a moment, because I immediately turn and face him again. “And I loved making love to you, Graham. It’s not you I didn’t want. It was the agony that came afterward. Your infidelity is a walk in the park compared to what I experienced month after month every time we had sex and it lead to nothing but an orgasm. An orgasm! Big fucking deal! How was I supposed to admit that to you? There was no way I could admit that I grew to despise every hug and every kiss and every touch because all of it would lead to the worst day of my life every twenty-eight fucking days!” I push past the chair and walk away from the table. “Fuck you and your affair. I don’t give a fuck about your affair, Graham.”
I walk into the kitchen as soon as I’m finished. I don’t even want to look at him right now. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been and I’m scared of what it did to him. I’m also scared that I don’t care what it did to him.
I don’t even know why I’m arguing issues that are irrelevant. I can’t get pregnant now no matter how much we fight about the past.
I pour myself a glass of water and sip from it while I calm down.
A few silent moments go by before Graham moves from the table. He walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter in front of me, crossing his feet at the ankles. When I work up the courage to look at his eyes, I’m surprised to see a calmness in them. Even after the harsh words that just left my mouth, he somehow still looks at me like he doesn’t absolutely hate me.
We stare at each other, both of us dry-eyed and full of years’ worth of things we should never have kept bottled up. Despite his calmness and his lack of animosity, he looks deflated by everything I just yelled at him—like my words were safety pins, poking holes in him, letting all the air out.
I can tell by the exhaustion in his expression that he’s given up again. I don’t blame him. Why keep fighting for someone who is no longer fighting for you?
Graham closes his eyes and grips the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He cycles through a calming breath before folding both arms over his chest. He shakes his head, like he’s finally come to a realization that he never wanted to come to. “No matter how hard I try . . . no matter how much I love you . . . I can’t be the one thing you’ve always wanted me to be, Quinn. I will never be a father.”
A tear immediately falls from my eye. And then another. But I remain stoic as he steps toward me.
“If this is what our marriage is . . . if this is all it will ever be . . . just me and you . . . will that be enough? Am I enough for you, Quinn?”
I’m confounded. Speechless.
I stare at him in utter disbelief, unable to answer him. Not because I can’t. I know the answer to his question. I’ve always known the answer. But I stay silent because I’m not sure I should answer him.
The silence that lingers between his question and my answer creates the biggest misunderstanding our marriage has ever seen. Graham’s jaw hardens. His eyes harden. Everything—even his heart—hardens. He looks away from me because my silence means something different to him than what it means to me.
He walks out of the kitchen, toward the guest room. Probably to get his suitcase and leave again. It takes everything in me not to run after him and beg him to stay. I want to fall to my knees and tell him that if on our wedding day, someone had forced me to choose between the possibility of having children or spending a life with Graham, I would have chosen life with him. Without a doubt, I would have chosen him.
I can’t believe our marriage has come to this point. The point where my behavior has convinced Graham that he’s not enough for me. He is enough for me.
The problem is . . . he could be so much more without me.
I blow out a shaky breath and turn around, pressing my palms into the counter. The agony of knowing what I’m doing to him makes my entire body tremble.
When he emerges from the hallway, he’s not holding his suitcase. He’s holding something else.
The box.
He brought our box with him?
He walks into the kitchen and sets it beside me on the counter. “If you don’t tell me to stop, we’re opening it.”
