conceive a kid makes me sad. Others, like today, I’m glad because Pierce would miss all the baby’s milestones. He doesn’t even care that I’m not pregnant.
It’s a weird reaction coming from a guy who seemed pretty eager to have a full house when he asked me to marry him. I stopped taking the pill on our six-month anniversary. Nothing has happened yet. My doctor suggested we get tested to make sure everything is working. It could be my fault, since I lost a fallopian tube when my father shot me.
Thank you, Daddy Dear.
The few times I have been able to bring the subject of children into our conversation, Pierce distracts me with sex, leaving me satiated and flustered. Only an infuriating man like him can do both simultaneously.
I want to remind him that he was the one who said we’d have a bigger family, not me. Now it feels like it is the forbidden subject. Or one of many topics we can’t discuss in this house. Sometimes I feel like I live in an imaginary minefield. If I’m not careful with our conversations he explodes—or leaves the room.
It’s past one in the morning when Pierce finally arrives. I don’t want to be that wife, but the first thing I want to ask is if his mistress finally let him go.
I don’t because his only love and loyalty are to his work. Another woman would just be taking his precious time away from his next promotion.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, staring at the table and then at me.
Daisy and Buster begin to jump around him, and he doesn’t even turn to look at me. He offers them a treat and walks with them to the kitchen.
I walk right behind them because I’m over this lack of communication.
“Where were you?” I ask.
“At the office, where else?” he snaps. “I never ask you what you do with your free time. Do I?”
His cold words feel like a blow to my stomach.
Of course, you don’t ask because it seems like you don’t care if I live or die.
“It was our anniversary,” I remind him. “Just thought we could do something together. As a couple. Sure, it’s not Hawaii like last year, but… You don’t care, do you?”
He blinks a couple of times, rakes his hair with his fingers, and sighs. “You have to understand my position at the firm. People are expecting more from me while others—”
“I don’t need a lame excuse. Save it,” I say, waving my hand.
“You don’t give a shit about my job,” he roars. His eyes burn with anger. “This is important to me. If it’s not some helpless or dying animal, you don’t care at all. I need to work harder because people swear I only got the raise for being Mom’s son and not because I work hard. It’s the price I have to pay, Leyla.”
My voice drops to almost a whisper. I look at the floor and say, “Our priorities will never be the same.”
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed with him, the circumstances, or myself. We used to get along so easily. We shared everything. He would talk about some of his cases and even ask for my opinion—not that I know much. Now…there’s only white noise between us.
“I…I’m sorry for fucking up.”
Is he, or is this one of his empty apologies?
I should remind him that most of the employees are part of his family. If anyone is saying shit, it’s his cousins who envy him because he is a better lawyer.
“We…next weekend, it’ll be different,” he promises.
“But it won’t because this is your new pattern. Our new life,” I say, focusing this discussion on us. “You forget, you missed, you can’t…but next time it’ll be different. I spent Christmas alone because you promised your grandmother you’d visit her. You can’t bring me because they can’t accept me. We’re supposed to be a family.”
He tosses his hands up in the air. His nostrils flare. “You can’t ask me to choose between you and them. I’m trying to do my best to please everyone. I’m just one person.”
“Don’t yell at me. We’re having a civilized conversation,” I remind him. “What is your excuse for the baby?”
“What baby?” he frowns.
“We’ve been trying to have a baby, and…well, I’m still not pregnant. The doctor said we should get tested to make sure everything is working,” I explain. “Each time I try to bring it up, you avoid the conversation.”
He exhales harshly and says, “Fine. You want to talk