April 7th
April 12th

April 12, 2000
Things improve, we move on.

-

- i figured you weren't interested my my belly again -

Things are hard. Life is painful. My belly continues to grow. Then husband tries to make things less heavy, it works, and I return to my empty apartment for another waiting day. I've done the math, I see Adam for a total of 28 hours (average) a week. This was not supposed to be permanent. Nor was I asked how I felt. Decisions were made and Sarah was left to cope. Sarah was left to cook and clean. Sarah was left to gestate a stranger all by her lonesome.

On the evening of the 10th, I begged Adam to come home a little early and surprisingly enough, he did. He climbed the stairs near 7:00 and proceeded to fall asleep on our couch after a discussion of what I should cook for dinner. I grilled eggplant and cooked up the turkey, boiling water for the whole wheat angel hair pasta. Things could have been left at that, getting me out of the kitchen in under an hour.

Instead, Adam had said that a spinach salad with sautéed eggplant and mushrooms in garlic sauce sounded good. He said it sounded good. I stood for an hour and a half to finish the entire dinner. I was, regardless of the sleeping husband, thrilled to have him home before I was falling asleep. I was looking forward to dinner and love and all things marriage. I fixed his plate and mine, plated the salad and went to wake him up. After doing so, he ate the pasta.

"What, you don't want anything else? You're just going to go back to sleep?"

"I never said I wanted anything else."

"You said it sounded good to you, what else does that mean?"

"It just means that it sounds good. You should've asked if I wanted it."

So I flew into a rage. I had vacuumed. I had scrubbed on my fucking knees in the bathroom so that our floor wasn't covered in god knows what, and our bowl was minty fresh. I put the duvet on our comforter all by myself, which is a pain, and I cleaned the cat hair off the couch. I washed last weeks dishes that he had promised to wash. I vacuumed the litter closet that had also been a part of last weeks promise. I scrubbed the stove and the kitchen floor. I got that raspberry stain out of the linoleum. I have a lot of spare time now.

I wanted to sleep too. But I wanted to have dinner with my husband, and if we both thought that more than sauce and pasta sounded good I had no qualms about cooking it. I'm not martyring myself over ragu. It's the point if he had said he didn't want it, I could've spared myself the trouble. Plus the "I said it sounded good, not that I wanted it," was such a manipulative four year old statement to make that I couldn't believe it came out of Adam's mouth.

He than began his favorite pastime, telling me why we don't get along now and why it's my fault. I couldn't take it so I went to sleep, it wasn't really that early for me now, near 9:00.

The next morning I got up, showered and dressed then woke him for his shower. While he was in there, me still being hurt and angry, I asked him if he wanted to finish what he was going to say. He replied that he didn't care to get into this morning. I refused to be Ms. Happy just because he wanted to play act the blissful couple.

We never called each other during the day. I went home. Watched the cooking channel. Stretched out. Drove to Taco Bell and ate a 7 layer burrito and a taco supreme, all right, and another bean burrito with sour cream. Then I went home and got in bed near 8:00. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to have the same argument that we have every night.

"Why can't you be home?"

"Do you honestly have to work a 75 hour work week?"

"Why won't you tell me where you're hiding our money?"

"Do you have to work weekends too?"

"Who did I marry?"

"What kind of choices have I made for my life, what have I done?"

"You don't want to take care of me."

"Where has your compassion gone?"

"What happened to the plans we made together? When did your mind change and why didn't you share it with me?"

"I don't blame you for not wanting to come home, I wouldn't either."

"This will just have to be my pregnancy and that's that."

"If you aren't excited just fucking lie to me, can't you handle that?"

I could go on, but you people have the gist of it. Not a day goes by that I don't cry from deep in my chest. Little kid crying, drooling with my eyes squeezed shut and my mouth screwed into abstract art shapes. Mostly when I'm going to sleep. Then I wake up and start the entire thing over again.

I decided to volunteer somewhere in the afternoons and Saturdays. I thought this was hilarious... I'm going to escort women through protesters into the local women's group health center. Most are going for check ups, but they get as much shit as the girls getting the abortions too. I can't wait until I'm showing, carting around a big fat belly, what could a protester possibly say to that? I don't want one, but god forbid I try and stop you from having one.

Anyhow, I watched the sun go down and listened to a large dog bark shrilly across the alleyway. There was some sort of dinner party going on a few doors down and the laughing made me cry. I felt like such a fucking pussy, but I have no handle on it.

When Adam came home near 10:00 I was just about asleep, but didn't feel like getting up and pretending to not be hurt or angry at him still. So instead I pretended to sleep. It wasn't long until I wasn't pretending.

Roundabout 4:45 this morning, I woke up sick to my stomach and went into the bathroom. On the sink was a bouquet of stargazer lilies, Indian roses and huge white roses, some purple stuff that I can't ever name and a cabbage rose. There was also a card, bearing a message I don't want to share with anyone else and a box of beautiful chocolate eggs. After I was through being sick, or it was through with me, I crawled back to bed. I was up for the day by then. Apparently so was my husband.

"Do you like them?"

I do, but I don't want the fact that he bought me something to erase the fact that my life now is beyond my control and the man I'm living with isn't the same person I married. I want him to understand and change the way things are. I want everything marriage. I push all these things aside, which is no easy task. I feel even now like I could have chosen the other path. Instead;

"I do."

"I picked them myself... I mean I picked them out.."

"No, I thought you roamed the hills in search of the perfect blossoms."

We laugh. I'm continuing to struggle, but still laugh.

We lay in bed for over an hour before the alarm goes off. Then we continue the cycle. I shower and dress. He showered last night so he leaves before me after real kisses. I'm instantly alone again for another 24 hours.

I brought the flowers to work, wanting to see them all day. I call him to tell them how incredible they smell. We are happy. We have all things marriage on the surface.

I leave work soon, in an hour or so. I'm going home to vacuum and clean the cat hair off the couch. The dishes from the evening of the 9th's dinner are waiting for me to wash them and I have to clean out the refrigerator in preparation for my trip to the grocery tomorrow.

Everything is still exactly the same.

Except I have flowers and chocolate. Funny thing, I can't eat the chocolate for another month.

So I have flowers. And housework. And bebe makes three.

Yesterday | Tomorrow | Email | Main