AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not yet anyway.
Fuck!
What the fuck is he doing calling my mother? Yes, I've been purposely ignoring his calls. But I have enough on my plate to deal with now, I don’t need to add worrying about my husband who needs a good fucking punch to the damn face.
Fuck him!
I know my mom is only trying to help. According to my dad, my mom accepts every call and visits him as often as she can, even taking him baked goods and little gifts. She fucking spoils him and is making me look bad. I'm the one that's supposed to be visiting him. Yet I haven't seen him once in nearly three months.
My mom and I agree on most things, but when it comes to my husband and my lack of communication with him, she doesn’t agree with my tough love approach, and I don’t blame her. A wife should be there for her husband during the bad times and good.
Unfortunately, I can’t be what he needs right now.
"How was the group?Did you actually attend?" Dr. Reynolds asks the first question to start our session.
"Yes, I went last Monday, and it was nice."
"Why didn't you attend yesterday?"
"I met a woman in the group. Not just any woman. She's the wife of someone I used to know," I explain, causing her to raise a curious eyebrow. I watch silently as she flips to a new page in her notebook to write something down. "And this woman is why you didn't go yesterday?"
I roll my lips between my teeth, thinking of what to say next. I may sound childish for missing the group just because of Karina, but knowing who she is now, I know we will not be able to continue a friendship. There's no way.
I choose to answer the question honestly. "Yes. I didn't want to see her again. Not so soon, at least." Dr. Reynolds urges me to continue, so I do. I tell her all about my history with Dean, how his wife is part of the group, and how I saw him again over the weekend for the first time in eleven years, and now he's designing my building. A building that he drew up the initial designs for when we were younger, and it's even at the exact location he chose for me on my ninth birthday. I tell her everything about Dean… well, almost everything.
When I finish speaking, for the first time since I’ve known her, she's speechless. She writes several things in her notebook, and I watch her brown eyes twinkle. A faint smile curls on my lips at the fact that I opened up to her.
"How did you feel when you saw Dean again after all this time?" she finally asks after several silent minutes.
"I felt like nothing had changed. It felt like he was still my Dean, and we were kids discussing our future together."
She nods, her curls bouncing from the movement. "But he's not your Dean anymore. He has a wife and a future with his wife. And you have a husband. Speaking of which, are you still ignoring his calls?"
Fuck. I don't need the reminder that I have a husband.
"I know… but it feels like he'll always be my Dean. I gave my soul to him at a very young age." I look down at my hands in my lap, twiddling my thumbs together. I don't bother responding to her question about Declan.
"Perhaps your feelings for him were reignited because you're lonely. Declan has been away for a while now and seeing a man you used to love made your subconscious realize that you're feeling lonely and confusing those feelings." Fuck. Why does that make so much sense?
Maybe she's right. But that can't be true, can it?
Actually, yes, it can. She's right. She's a hundred percent right. I'm lonely, and seeing Dean and Karina together reminded me of how lonely I actually am. I miss romantic dates and intimate moments. They seem to have a happy and healthy marriage, and perhaps it's made me a little envious. I smile brightly, choosing to believe what she's saying but knowing deep down that it's the furthest thing from the truth.
"Declan will be home in two weeks. I think he's what I'm missing." My first lie of the day. I don't miss him. I don't miss those moments with him. Not anymore. There was a point in time when I was happy and loved being married. I loved my husband and my life, but that piece of me died a year ago.
The day I buried my baby boy was when I stopped loving my life.
"I think so too. Have you spoken to him? Do you plan to work on your marriage once he returns home?" she presses. I shrug my shoulders.
"We haven't spoken in nearly three months. He's called, but I've ignored every call. I'm not ready to speak to him."
"Do you think your marriage is redeemable?"
"I don't know. We need to discuss and figure out a lot when he does get home."
"Perhaps you'll rethink attending couples therapy. It can truly help you two." I nod, no longer wanting to continue with her chosen topic.
I hate talking about Declan. I hate talking about my marriage. I hate talking about most things about my life. I prefer to keep myself busy with work because I hate dealing with or thinking about anything else. If I allow myself to stop thinking about work, then I begin to think about the hole in my heart—the emptiness.
