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“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Do you want me to leave? What do you want me to do, Ridley? I’ll do anything but please just don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out. Just give me a minute.”
SITTING AND STARING.I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s funny, I don’t think I’ve taken this much time to just consider life, since well, ever. I’ve always been on the go. I’ve always believed I think better on my feet so to speak. But sitting here looking out into the night and truly going through my thoughts and feelings, I’m a bit overwhelmed.
Everything that’s happened over the past two months comes crashing in on me. The confusion I experienced when I was served the divorce papers, the moment in the bedroom when Madison told me she didn’t love me anymore, the nights I’ve spent watching Callan at soccer practice and his games, realizing from the beginning my son was unhappy but not knowing exactly what to do about it. All of my attempts to win back the one woman, besides my mother, I’ve ever truly loved. All these thoughts and moments come rushing back and fuck if it doesn’t make my stomach turn.
The storm passed through, the rain all but gone, left puddles on the stone porch outside. We step outside, searching for the soul cleansing rain can offer, our shoulders touching as we sit on the edge of the built-in benches surrounding the outdoor kitchen. The sun’s setting to the west, lighting up the sky in purple and pink streaks.
Madison gave me close to twenty minutes outside by myself as she called Nathalie to tell her she wouldn’t be home tonight and to put Callan and Noah to bed for her. I certainly wasn’t wild about Nathalie watching the boys after she filled my wife’s head full of bullshit, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Like tomorrow. I’ll definitely be talking to her tomorrow and letting her know she’s to keep her “single mommy” thoughts to herself next time.
As we sit there in complete silence, both our thoughts scrambling to make sense of where we go from here, I know we won’t be perfect because both of us have faults deeper than we care to admit, but I like my faults with her.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness here, Ridley,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “I’m asking for a chance, I guess.” Her hands fidget in her lap. “Maybe we could go on a date one night and remember why we fell in love.”
I can’t help my laugh, but this time it’s not bitter. “We tried that, remember?”
She knows what I’m referring to. Sedona and the shit show that was.
She nods, trying to remain calm, despite me being a jerk. “I know, but I want us to try again.”
Her face is etched in regret as she watches me, waiting for the denial she thinks is coming. When she closes her eyes, I want to pry them open again just so she can see what she put me through. But in some ways, she already sees it. It’s why she’s here, asking for me not to give up.
Her voice wavers when she says, “I mean it. If this isn’t what you want, I’ll give you the divorce, and we can work out a parenting plan,” she admits in that slow, drawn-out voice she has when she doesn’t like what she’s saying. I’m still hung up on the pretense of what she did, filing for divorce to get my attention when it really doesn’t mean anything. Regardless of the contents of the papers or what Madison wanted to prove, it’s still just a circumstance, one that opened my eyes to a lot of things.
I can’t be that angry with her. In a sense, and I don’t even like saying this, but I feel guilty she felt the need to resort to this, as if somehow I had something to do with it, and sadly I did. I’m her husband. She should have felt comfortable coming and talking to me.
I understood just like everyone else when you make a mistake, you’re usually harder on yourself than anyone else. And I know Madison. She probably spent every night these past few weeks trying to tell me what really happened.
“If you did this to get my attention, why did you say you didn’t love me?”
The color drains from her face. Maybe she knew I’d ask this eventually because even now those words remain in my head. I’ll never forget the way they punched my chest that night. Silence looms between us for a moment, my stomach churning with fear and anxiety.
“I didn’t mean it.” She bites her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I just… I wasn’t sure what to do at that point. I panicked and said what I thought would get your attention.”
My face clouds with uneasiness. “Do you want this? Do you want there to be anus?” I ask, my stomach dipping for the unknown.
“Yes. I do.” The words are said with such affection I don’t doubt her.
I can feel my heart in my throat, much like the day she served me with the papers. “Then we try.”
MADISONAND I SLEEP on the floor in the new house that night. Well, I don’t know how much sleep is achieved, but we lie there and talk.
Sitting on the floor beside her, I wait for her to wake up and watch her sleep a little while. The sun is up, the morning sunlight warming me. I haven’t turned on the air conditioning yet, but damn, I need to soon.
When Madison finally does wake, she looks at me warily. Sitting up, her eyes shift from mine to my body and hands, searching my face for answers. I do the same, only hers don’t offer anything but the evidence of a rough night.
Now here we are. Two hearts, two souls, one outcome.
“I want to be married to you,” I say, leaning into her slightly, my hand on her cheek again. “I never wanted the divorce. I want you and Callan and Wolverine.” Madison lets out a laugh, her body shaking in the process. My hand moves to her stomach. “And this baby.”
Tilting my head and kissing the side of her neck and then her lips, I’m showing her exactly what I mean, the way I know how. Sex.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m just being honest here. It’s been like a fucking month.
“I’d say I’d like to knock you up again, but I already did that, so let’s just fuck on the floor and christen the house.”
She laughs, her hands on my shoulders pulling me into her. “You haven’t changed, have you?”