older, I overheard my aunts. They were saying my mom committed suicide. That she’d battled depression ever since my dad walked out on us.”
“You’d think after what my parents did to me, I wouldn’t want to get married and have kids, but I do. I want to love my family the way my parents should have loved me. Just because they were terrible parents, doesn’t mean I have to be.”
My heart is beating so loudly, it pounds a wild drumbeat in my ears. I know where he’s going with this. I know. And though some part of me realizes he’s making perfect sense, another part of me is terrified. What if I turn out to be a terrible parent?
“You’re afraid,” he continues, “and I’m sorry my family has been pushing us too hard to get married, but at least we know they like you. If they didn’t like you, believe me,” he says, chuckling, “they’d be trying to break us up, not marry us. I don’t want you to feel rushed. It’s just….” His voice cracks, and he pauses for a long moment. “You’ve made it clear you never want to have a family with me.” He whispers loud enough so I can feel his pain resonating in each word. “I’m hurt by it. I don’t understand, and I know it’s not an excuse for the way I acted tonight, but I keep thinking you’re going to break up with me soon anyway.”
I gasp and turn toward him. Break up with Andrés? The thought of losing him causes a hollow, empty ache in my chest. Andrés is my life.
“I don’t want to break up with you. Not now. Not ever.” I shake my head as my eyes pool with moisture. Just when I thought I’d cried out every tear. “I’ve already told you why I don’t want kids.”
He leans so close, we are only a few breaths apart. He frowns as he wipes a tear from the corner of my eye. “Did you ever think about what I want?”
Did I ever think about what Andrés wants?
Did I?
The answer hits me like a bullet to the chest. No. Not really.
That’s when I realize I’ve been behaving like a selfish bitch toward the best guy I’ve ever known. I didn’t need to respond to the topic with such disgust. I should have at least listened to what Andrés wanted. Maybe I’ve been trying to ignore or deny it, but it’s clear to me now Andrés badly wants a family.
I still wish he wouldn’t press to have this conversation so early in our relationship. Maybe six months of dating is a long time for his family, but I don’t think so.
“Andrés,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I’m only twenty-one. I don’t know what I’m going to want in five or ten years. Right now, I just want to finish school.” I think about that stupid psychology class that could possibly prevent me from graduating this semester. “I’ve got final exams coming up and so much work to do….” My voice breaks and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand why we have to fight over this now.”
“I’m so sorry, mija.” He kisses my cheek a few times, then the lobe of my ear. “Can you forgive me?” he says as he kisses my neck.
I respond involuntarily, rolling onto my side and arching into him. He wraps his arm around my waist and continues to trail kisses down my collarbone.
Some part of me doesn’t want to forgive him. Another part of me doesn’t want to forgive myself. All this time I’ve had my reasons for not wanting a family, and I haven’t given much thought to what Andrés wanted. Of course, he’d want something more from our relationship. Of course, he’d eventually want to settle down and have kids.
A wave of shame washes over me for not considering his feelings, and something clenches my heart like a vice, a much deeper, darker feeling I don’t want to acknowledge. But it’s there, hovering at the recesses of my mind, threatening to overwhelm me with grief: the thought that one day we may have to go our separate ways. I don’t want to lose him. Not ever. But can I bring myself to give him what he wants?
Just as
“You’d think after what my parents did to me, I wouldn’t want to get married and have kids, but I do. I want to love my family the way my parents should have loved me. Just because they were terrible parents, doesn’t mean I have to be.”
My heart is beating so loudly, it pounds a wild drumbeat in my ears. I know where he’s going with this. I know. And though some part of me realizes he’s making perfect sense, another part of me is terrified. What if I turn out to be a terrible parent?
“You’re afraid,” he continues, “and I’m sorry my family has been pushing us too hard to get married, but at least we know they like you. If they didn’t like you, believe me,” he says, chuckling, “they’d be trying to break us up, not marry us. I don’t want you to feel rushed. It’s just….” His voice cracks, and he pauses for a long moment. “You’ve made it clear you never want to have a family with me.” He whispers loud enough so I can feel his pain resonating in each word. “I’m hurt by it. I don’t understand, and I know it’s not an excuse for the way I acted tonight, but I keep thinking you’re going to break up with me soon anyway.”
I gasp and turn toward him. Break up with Andrés? The thought of losing him causes a hollow, empty ache in my chest. Andrés is my life.
“I don’t want to break up with you. Not now. Not ever.” I shake my head as my eyes pool with moisture. Just when I thought I’d cried out every tear. “I’ve already told you why I don’t want kids.”
He leans so close, we are only a few breaths apart. He frowns as he wipes a tear from the corner of my eye. “Did you ever think about what I want?”
Did I ever think about what Andrés wants?
Did I?
The answer hits me like a bullet to the chest. No. Not really.
That’s when I realize I’ve been behaving like a selfish bitch toward the best guy I’ve ever known. I didn’t need to respond to the topic with such disgust. I should have at least listened to what Andrés wanted. Maybe I’ve been trying to ignore or deny it, but it’s clear to me now Andrés badly wants a family.
I still wish he wouldn’t press to have this conversation so early in our relationship. Maybe six months of dating is a long time for his family, but I don’t think so.
“Andrés,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I’m only twenty-one. I don’t know what I’m going to want in five or ten years. Right now, I just want to finish school.” I think about that stupid psychology class that could possibly prevent me from graduating this semester. “I’ve got final exams coming up and so much work to do….” My voice breaks and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand why we have to fight over this now.”
“I’m so sorry, mija.” He kisses my cheek a few times, then the lobe of my ear. “Can you forgive me?” he says as he kisses my neck.
I respond involuntarily, rolling onto my side and arching into him. He wraps his arm around my waist and continues to trail kisses down my collarbone.
Some part of me doesn’t want to forgive him. Another part of me doesn’t want to forgive myself. All this time I’ve had my reasons for not wanting a family, and I haven’t given much thought to what Andrés wanted. Of course, he’d want something more from our relationship. Of course, he’d eventually want to settle down and have kids.
A wave of shame washes over me for not considering his feelings, and something clenches my heart like a vice, a much deeper, darker feeling I don’t want to acknowledge. But it’s there, hovering at the recesses of my mind, threatening to overwhelm me with grief: the thought that one day we may have to go our separate ways. I don’t want to lose him. Not ever. But can I bring myself to give him what he wants?
Just as
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