he did it when we got married and didn’t tell me.
“It was right after Carter died,” he states, and I stare at him, waiting for more. “I never wanted children. When he died, the whole situation was too fucked up to want a family. I just took care of the issue from the root.”
“Who is Carter?” I ask, because… “Did you have a baby when you were younger?”
My heart breaks for him.
“No. Aren’t you listening to our conversation?” he asks, exasperated.
“You’re not making sense,” I respond.
“Well, I don’t want children. Why would I have a baby? Carter was… It doesn’t matter who he was, okay,” he concludes. “I already knew I didn’t want to be a father, but I did what was best for everyone after he died. While growing up, my grandmother and my grandfather always said, ‘If he had a vasectomy, no one would be having these kinds of problems.’”
I laugh at the irony of this conversation. It’s the first time we are trying to communicate, and I’m learning that this man has been hiding important information from me. I want to ask about his grandparents, Carter, the shit show…but I have the feeling that he will answer, “It doesn’t matter.” Because nothing matters to him—not even us.
“You know what I think?” I ask rhetorically. “I think that you hoped I’d stay quiet and would never ask you for more than you have given me. Maybe that’s been my mistake since we met. You gave me a hand. I took it and gifted you my heart and my soul. You…you never opened up after that.”
“Don’t twist this, Leyla,” his volume is loud, but his words come out shaky.
“Now you’re going to invalidate my feelings,” I challenge him. “That’s how I see it and feel it, Pierce. You gave me a morsel of love. I’m not worth more than sex at midnight, and if I’m lucky, in the morning.”
“What are you saying?”
“I. Want. More,” I almost spell each word, and my voice becomes demanding but not forceful.
“Can’t you be happy with what we have? I mean, why would you want to have a kid? Aren’t you afraid that it’ll come out like your father?”
I gasp and close my eyes, trying to compose myself. There are a few things that trigger me, and that is one of them. I can’t look at him. He knows I live terrified of what Dad did to our family.
And what if I do the same to those who I love?
Every day I work hard to remind myself that I’m not my father, and now, he’s telling me that the one thing I want, children, might end up… I can’t even finish that thought.
“I’m sorry, Ley,” his voice is soft, his body is so close to mine that I can feel his warmth dissolving the fear. “I…you know I lash out with stupidities when I’m upset. I didn’t mean what I just said. This is a hard limit, babe. I know you’re pissed, and I should’ve told you about it. I never meant to hurt you, and now I’m not sure how to fix this—us.”
When I open my eyes, he’s right in front of me. His green eyes are filled with pain. I wish he would tell me more. I’m unsure if I should push him or give us options and a little hope to fix us.
I choose the latter. “What if we adopt?”
He takes a step back, and his jaw twitches. “Okay, this is the part where I have to be hard with you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone, but if you ask for a kid one more time, this is over.”
“You know how I feel?” I mumble. “Like I’ve spent almost three years of my life with a stranger.”
I can’t help myself and start crying, because this is how it ends, and how is it possible that I never noticed that we don’t have anything. “Can we even call this a marriage?”
“Of course, we can,” he answers. “Please, don’t cry, babe. You’re killing me here. I…why are we discussing this nonsense when you know me so well. You’re the only person who knows me.”
No, I don’t, and I don’t even know if I’m in love with you.
I’m in love with the illusion of the Pierce I met years ago. But this guy… Who are you?
We stare at each other for a very long time. My heart is hurting, and I don’t have anything to say that will fix us. It’s