Page 24 of I’m Fine Save Me (The Spiral Duet #1)
Chapter eighteen
Tegan
Six Months Later
I ’m late to pick up Hannah from school and that’s going to make me late for her speech therapy appointment. Frantically moving mail, school paperwork, homework, and work documents, I’m too distracted to look at the screen of my incessantly ringing phone before I answer it.
“Hello?”
“Why won’t your sister answer my calls?” Wayne’s whiny victimized voice taints the airways and I close my eyes in defeat.
You just couldn’t look at the fucking screen. Good job, Tegan. After mentally scolding myself and breathing deeply, I turn to search the living room with my phone remaining against my ear.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you, Wayne. You don’t usually call unless you need something or want to vent to us like we’re your therapists.” I shuffle through the throw pillows and couch cushions until I feel the teeth of my house key. “HAH!”
“You think that’s funny?” Wayne’s whiny tone dissipates and instead his incredulous anger comes through. It kills my victory vibe pretty quickly.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it while gathering my purse and Hannah’s after school snacks. “No, I was looking for my keys and found them. I don’t find it funny that you use your daughters as your therapists instead of going to an actual therapist.”
I can practically hear him trying to do some slow counting. One thing my sperm donor knows well is that I’ll hang up and not answer again if he pushes too far.
“Tegan,” he starts in a more level tone.
“I just called to see if you knew why your sister wouldn’t answer my calls.
The baby’s birthday is coming up and I wanted to find out the details of the party.
I know you girls have parties for your kids, even though I’ve only been allowed at one of Hannah’s. ”
I’m backing out of the driveway with his voice now playing through my car speakers on the Bluetooth. At least now he won’t hear my molars grinding at his idiocy.
“That’s because you decided to provoke mama at that party. Kat and Dani had to get in the middle of it to make you leave Mama alone. Every time she walked away, you went right back at it. It wasn’t fair to Hannah and I’m not about to deny mom an invitation when she does so much to help us.”
“I don’t have the fucking money to help you!” Wayne cries defensively.
He’s your father. You can’t just cut him out of your life.
The voices of Annie, Theo, and a few of my classmates and old friends from childhood all ring in my ears.
No matter how horrible I tell them he is, they tell me that he’s unwell and just needs his daughters to love him. I let out a slow breath and keep my voice even.
“She doesn’t give us money. She babysits so we can have nights out together or she comes by to have dinner.
She’ll either help me cook or she’ll occupy Hannah while I get dinner ready.
Sometimes she’ll handle bath time and bedtime so I can have an hour of quiet to finish assignments, or proof documents for work. Not everything is about money, Wayne.”
I’ve had to tell him so many times.
“You love her more than you love me. I’ve known that since the divorce. You girls don’t have to treat me like some pariah because you believe everything she says about me.” He hisses the words and I can tell he actually believes what he’s saying.
I can’t help the mirthless laugh that escapes me while I stop at a red light and shake my head.
“Please stop calling me. You only call to talk shit about mama or Kat or Dani. You call to tell me how unloved you feel. I tell you over and over again the list of things you could do to be a part of our lives, but you never hear what I say. All you ever hear or see are coins falling or dollar signs flying. Nothing is about fucking money, Wayne! I’m out of debt.
I paid it all off. I even have my social security number flagged to report any activity on it so I know the second something can affect me.
I took care of it because I knew you never would.
Don’t call me again unless you have a real, licensed therapist that isn’t fucking you. ”
I end the call without getting his response.
When I pull into the parking lot of the school, I flip down the sun visor and wipe the tears from my eyes.
It’s probably best that I don’t wear much makeup or I’d look even worse right now.
My phone rings and I send it to voicemail three times before I’m put together enough to walk into the school for pickup.
Cooper comes in from therapy later that evening.
After he had a full mental breakdown at work, he was required to take a two week sabbatical about five months ago.
They wouldn’t let him go back to work until he had an appointment set up with a psychiatrist who could re-evaluate his medication needs.
He hates his mandated monthly therapy sessions. This will be number five and I’ve learned when he’s not in a talking mood.
The first two sessions, he wanted to lose himself in sex, but he was despondent at best. When we talked about it a few days later, he apologized with tears in his eyes, feeling like he’d hurt me. Now he doesn’t seek me out for sex, even after his monthly session.
Sessions three and four resulted in him returning home, taking a shower alone, eating dinner, putting on a decent mask for the bedtime routine with Hannah, and then disappearing into the bedroom without so much as a goodnight.
Like clockwork, a few days after, he would come to me and we would talk it out.
We would have some cheesy at home date night with a movie and snacks, cuddling, and one month we ended up making love until he grew frustrated with his body.
That prolonged release evaded him even with the adjustments to his meds.
That one time put up a block in his mind, so he just stopped trying.
He still holds me, gives me those soft kisses to my temple, my ear, the back of my hand.
He holds my hand while we lie on the couch together, and he’ll join me in the shower just to be close to me.
Cooper just doesn’t try for sex anymore, and the few times I’ve tried to initiate it, he begs me off after a few minutes.
He says he doesn’t want to disappoint me.
I’ve tried to tell him it’s okay. I have reminded him that we have toys, ropes, and cuffs to experiment with. Things we bought but still haven’t actually taken out of the packaging.
He’s just shut down and disconnected himself from it all. I don’t know if trying to talk to him more is hurting him or helping him in a tough love sort of way. I do know that it hurts me every time I see that wall go up and his eyes go void.
Some days, he’s that same guy that lit up like the fourth of July when he saw me dancing in the rain. Most days though– most days he’s either barely there or not there at all.
The doctors say the medication adjustments will take time for us to find what works. A pill for ADHD to help him focus at work, a pill for depression so he doesn’t sink too low, an as needed pill for anxiety when he gets overwhelmed, and a pill to help him sleep at night when he can’t wind down.
It all seems like so much, and between the medications, the therapy, the days-long recovery from therapy, and trying our best to maintain some form of intimacy, he doesn’t act like he’s living. He’s a zombie-like version of himself.
That leaves me to handle Hannah’s exercises for occupational therapy, flashcard practice for speech therapy, her usual daily routines, and feeding the both of them; so I at least know he is eating and she isn’t hiding food in various corners of the house.
I’ve tried to talk to Annie about how lonely I feel in all of this, but she reminds me that Theo has been deployed for most of their marriage, and I should be grateful Cooper is here with me.
A few of my long time friends let me vent frustrations, but they all tell me that Cooper is emotionally abusive and I should consider divorce.
I end those conversations rather quickly. Recently I’ve stopped reaching out to them at all. I’ve opened up more to Chris about myself instead. I’ve explained that my down days involve either drama from Wayne, like today, or I’m just exhausted and alone.
I have had vague conversations with my Demon, but I’ve yet to give him details. He knows I’m married, just like he is. While we don’t know each other’s real names, he knows that my spouse knows what I do online; and that I have a special needs child in grammar school.
Unfortunately, things have gotten a bit testy in that area simply because Chris is possessive.
He praises me and makes me feel good. I’m given instructions on pleasuring myself and specific pictures or videos to send.
It’s hot. Sex, along with all of the carnal experiences that come with it, are things I sorely miss.
Cooper even told me that he’s glad I have someone to “take care of that” for me.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell Cooper I would much rather his hands be on me than mine with only my imagination and Chris’s words to fill in the blanks.
I just can’t break through that wall no matter what I do.
Chris, for all the sexual chemistry we have, and despite all the personal stuff I’ve shared, I’m not a priority. I’ve been pulled into sharing a relationship with his “main” girlfriend, and she’s a bit territorial. I’ve told him it makes me uncomfortable, but he swears I’ll get used to it.
While I’m not opposed to sharing, and I understand that a spouse takes priority, she makes every effort to let me know he’s spending time with her. She tells me I should wait to reach out to him. When the three of us have an active group chat, he will stop responding to me and only respond to her.