look away from him after that. His gray eyes are showing that faint hint of green. He squeezes my hand, which is tiny in comparison to his. He brings his other hand into view and shows me what it was he was looking for in his jacket a minute ago. Slowly and deliberately, he slides the wedding band down my ring finger, restoring it back with its rightful owner. I begin to cry harder because tonight I’m so confused. I wrap my arms around his neck and he holds me closer.
I have a lot of confusion about his love for me, but what I have never been confused about is my love for him. I love Cal. That’s it. There’s been nothing I’ve been able to do to stop loving him yet. No matter how angry or how frustrated I get. He knows the exact moment, to do the exact thing to make me fall in love with him all over again.
I close my eyes feeling at peace in this instant. For this moment I’ve gone back in time when I used lay in his arms, when he made me feel like it was just the two of us in the world and nothing in between us.
While I have this moment—this peace—I’ll sleep and worry about the rest tomorrow. I finally feel myself drifting to sleep, wrapped in Cal’s arms. And at least for this night, the couple in the picture that I turned down earlier doesn’t feel so far away.
***
Why do I stay? It’s a simple question, really. Why don’t I just leave? I have no children with him. We’re married, but divorce is so easy and common these days. Why do I care so much?
These questions run through my mind as I stare at the ceiling. The same ceiling I used to look up at every night when I was a little girl. The teenaged dreamer is now a woman. I glance at the ring on my finger and it commands my attention, not because of the gorgeous princess cut yellow diamond, but what it once stood for.
It’s supposed to be a symbol of our love, trust, and commitment to one another. When I made those vows, I knew without a doubt that we both had those things.
I love him, but my trust in him has waned. I sometimes doubt his commitment to me, our commitment to make our marriage work. I’ve taken off this band easily because the things it stands for—I don’t believe in anymore. Still, time after time I allow it back on.
Why is it that when Cal isn’t with me, I miss him so much it’s worse than physical pain? Why is it when I see his eyes, sometimes I swear I see a side of him he won’t allow me to fully know?
His eyes—I think I fell in love with his eyes. They reveal so little and so much. Sometimes I look into them and they’re vacant, cold, and void. Yet there are moments when there is something kind and warm looking from behind them.
His mystique used to excite me, drawing me in, too intriguing to let go. Now the fact that my husband is still a mystery to me is frustrating, and it makes me realize his mysteries are now just secrets that he won’t trust me with, and I grow more resentful of that every day.
I’ve allowed myself to stay because there are times like last night where I madly, deeply in love with him all over again. Other times, I feel like I barely know him at all. I’m afraid that I’ve wrapped myself up in him for so long that it would be hard to stand on my own. The realization of that is sickening, and a part of me blames him for that. I know I let this happen. I’ve allowed this icy exterior to take over and change who I am. It started out as a way to deal with him, to keep from feeling sad, lonely, and insufficient. It started out as a temporary defense mechanism, but now it is a cornerstone of the woman I’ve become.
It’s morning. I’ve been laying here for a while, not able to sleep, still trying to figure things out. I feel Cal wake up, and the mattress rustles as he sits up. I roll over to look at him. He glances at me, yawns, and begins grabbing his clothing scattered about on the floor.
“Morning,” I say, quietly resting my head on my arm. He puts on his boxers and shirt, but he
I have a lot of confusion about his love for me, but what I have never been confused about is my love for him. I love Cal. That’s it. There’s been nothing I’ve been able to do to stop loving him yet. No matter how angry or how frustrated I get. He knows the exact moment, to do the exact thing to make me fall in love with him all over again.
I close my eyes feeling at peace in this instant. For this moment I’ve gone back in time when I used lay in his arms, when he made me feel like it was just the two of us in the world and nothing in between us.
While I have this moment—this peace—I’ll sleep and worry about the rest tomorrow. I finally feel myself drifting to sleep, wrapped in Cal’s arms. And at least for this night, the couple in the picture that I turned down earlier doesn’t feel so far away.
***
Why do I stay? It’s a simple question, really. Why don’t I just leave? I have no children with him. We’re married, but divorce is so easy and common these days. Why do I care so much?
These questions run through my mind as I stare at the ceiling. The same ceiling I used to look up at every night when I was a little girl. The teenaged dreamer is now a woman. I glance at the ring on my finger and it commands my attention, not because of the gorgeous princess cut yellow diamond, but what it once stood for.
It’s supposed to be a symbol of our love, trust, and commitment to one another. When I made those vows, I knew without a doubt that we both had those things.
I love him, but my trust in him has waned. I sometimes doubt his commitment to me, our commitment to make our marriage work. I’ve taken off this band easily because the things it stands for—I don’t believe in anymore. Still, time after time I allow it back on.
Why is it that when Cal isn’t with me, I miss him so much it’s worse than physical pain? Why is it when I see his eyes, sometimes I swear I see a side of him he won’t allow me to fully know?
His eyes—I think I fell in love with his eyes. They reveal so little and so much. Sometimes I look into them and they’re vacant, cold, and void. Yet there are moments when there is something kind and warm looking from behind them.
His mystique used to excite me, drawing me in, too intriguing to let go. Now the fact that my husband is still a mystery to me is frustrating, and it makes me realize his mysteries are now just secrets that he won’t trust me with, and I grow more resentful of that every day.
I’ve allowed myself to stay because there are times like last night where I madly, deeply in love with him all over again. Other times, I feel like I barely know him at all. I’m afraid that I’ve wrapped myself up in him for so long that it would be hard to stand on my own. The realization of that is sickening, and a part of me blames him for that. I know I let this happen. I’ve allowed this icy exterior to take over and change who I am. It started out as a way to deal with him, to keep from feeling sad, lonely, and insufficient. It started out as a temporary defense mechanism, but now it is a cornerstone of the woman I’ve become.
It’s morning. I’ve been laying here for a while, not able to sleep, still trying to figure things out. I feel Cal wake up, and the mattress rustles as he sits up. I roll over to look at him. He glances at me, yawns, and begins grabbing his clothing scattered about on the floor.
“Morning,” I say, quietly resting my head on my arm. He puts on his boxers and shirt, but he
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