Philosophy's a Liar When Your Home is Your Headstone

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*** TW: Mild violence/arguing and mention of suicidal thoughts. *** 

"I love you, too, baby. Stay here with me, please," she whispered in my ear. Her teardrops kissed my neck desperately as they fell; their warm embrace all-too-familiar against my already-flushed skin. I kissed her forehead and pushed some loose hair away from her dark, captivating orbs. 

"I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, babe." I smiled warmly, irritation from straining to hold back tears lingering in my throat. Kissing her softly, I slid my boxers off and helped her get undressed; basking in all her beauty before pulling her soft body against mine again and tossing our clothes into a pile of disarray on the bathroom floor. I touched my nose to hers and couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled, even though she was hurting. "I love you." I squeezed her hands gently as she looked at me and smiled meekly. 

"I love you, too, Billie Joe." She ran her hands over my bare chest and kissed my lips tenderly. 

I held her hand as she steadied herself into the tub, then took my place behind her so she could lean up against me. Reaching behind her, she placed her hands on my thighs gently, rolled her head back against my chest, and studied the cream-colored walls around us as if looking for some kind of sign that everything would be alright. Tears fell silently from her eyes as I wrapped my arms around her waist, letting my head fall forwards next to hers, and I kissed her forehead again. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked, gently running my hands across her stomach. 

"Crappy. Crampy," she mumbled, continuing to stare at the walls. "Like shit." 

I kissed her neck again and ran my hands down her back, kneading her skin gently with my knuckles. "I'm sorry, love. What can I do to help you right now?" 

"Just keep doing what you're doing, please...it feels nice." She paused briefly and tilted her head to the side before speaking again as I continued massaging. "I just don't get it. I thought this time was really going to be it, you know? I've been having so many symptoms..." Her voice trailed off and she inhaled sharply against me, starting to sob. 

"Hey," I protested softly, wrapping my arms around her tightly. "Look at me." Holding her waist, I helped her turn around to face me. She straddled my lap and buried her head in my shoulder. I rubbed her back and let her cry for a few moments before taking her face in my hands and looking directly into her eyes. 

"I feel - I feel like a...failure," she choked out, hiding her face from me. 

"No, no, no..." I held her close and rocked her gently in my arms, making warm, soapy water splash cold porcelain. "Don't you say that. You're a lot of things, Adrienne, but a failure is not one of them," I said softly, gently prying her hands from her eyes and holding them tightly. "You're so strong and beautiful. You know this hurt you're feeling?" I looked deep into her eyes and pointed to her chest, speaking softly and clearly even though my own heart felt like it would shatter at any moment. "That hurt proves you're not a failure. That hurt is from perseverance, and perseverance means you're not a quitter. You can't be a failure because you haven't quit. You hear me?" I pulled her close to me again and rubbed her back, swallowing hard. 

She cried against me and clutched the back of my hair softly, trying to steady her breathing. When she had calmed down some, she spoke again. 

"Do - do you think I just imagined my symptoms or something? Maybe...maybe I was so late because I tricked my body into thinking I was pregnant?" She looked at me through tears for some kind of reassurance. 

"I don't think you were imagining anything, babe. I think this cycle has just been fucking hard on your body." I slid my thumbs under her eyes and pulled her close as she melted into my embrace. 

She sat back up quickly and threw her hands up, splashing water outside the tub. "The nausea, though...the headaches...the sensitivity to smells," she objected, her eyes darting back and forth frantically. 

I nodded empathetically, squeezing her shoulders gently. "You have to remember to give yourself some grace, Adie. We've put your body through so much in the last six years; especially in the last three months. It's been fertility meds non-stop, babe. Maybe...maybe, you know, your body just needs a break?" I suggested, immediately regretting that I even existed. 

My heart sank as I watched all the color in her face drain at my words. I had fucked up. Big time. 

"Adie, I - " 

I tried to speak, but her soft, brown eyes had morphed into black daggers piercing my heart and soul. I couldn't breathe. 

"A break? You think I need a break?" Her voice cracked as she twisted repulsively out of my embrace. "How dare you? My body doesn't need a break, Billie Joe. It needs a baby. Don't you understand? A baby!" Her voice got higher as she spoke, and she was quickly becoming inconsolable. 

I gulped in a sad attempt to get some air into my lungs and reached out for her arm, but she wasn't having it. 

"No, don't you...don't fucking touch me," she sobbed, giving a firm shove to my chest and sending my back straight into the faucet with a hard thud before throwing herself completely off me. 

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't - " I gasped, due partly to the emotion that had overcome me, as well as the fresh pain that radiated throughout my back. 

"Shut up, damnit. Just shut up," she whimpered, standing up hastily and getting out of the tub. Yanking a plush towel from the shower rack, she threw it around her and let herself fall against the wall. 

I pulled my knees to my chest, shaking like a drowned rat, and I felt pathetic crying in front of her like this, but I couldn't take my eyes off of hers. 

"Fuck, I'm so stupid," she cried. "I thought I had your support in this. I thought you wanted this just as much as I did. Now you're ready to take a break. You're ready to give up, aren't you? Just admit it!" She was hysterical at this point. 

"Adrienne, I didn't mean that...please..." I sobbed, and it felt like every last reason for her to ever give me an ounce of respect again was being washed away down the drain and into the abyss. 

"No, just stop, Billie Joe...it's ok," she cried, standing up and making her way towards the bathroom door. "I suggest you leave for a while. I need to be alone." Her breath was shaky and unstable, and for the first time in the last several minutes, she broke eye contact with me. And when she did, it broke me, because I knew that if I no longer had her attention, I definitely didn't have her respect. 

"Do you understand me?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, staring down at the now-water-covered floor. 

"I understand," I sniffled pitifully, not taking my eyes off her. 

Without another word, she left the bathroom.

My body trembled with grief and relief simultaneously as she left me there alone in the lukewarm water. Grief; because nothing in the whole world hurt worse than this, and relief; because now I could let go and ugly cry alone without making a further fool out of myself in front of her. 

Closing my eyes, I held my face in my hands, and for a moment, I wished that all the heaviness I felt in my heart would just sink me. 

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