Mrs. Independent: Part Two

Chapter Three: Couch Talk

Chapter Three: Couch Talk

The next thing I knew, I was standing in my office in New York City.
I needed to get away, but I didn't want the rest of the family to know about it. The building is empty because it's well after midnight, and I'm sitting at my desk with my feet propped up, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.
When I was twenty six years old, that man became my confidant. He was the person I went to with everything. He's held me while I cried, celebrated with me, watched my company grow from a national thing to a worldwide thing. He was in the room for all four deliveries. He's been there every time one of the kids get sick, he's been there while I've been sick. He is enraging because he knows exactly how to get me to talk to him. When I lost my best friend, he was there. He has always been there. He's the one and only person that has gotten me to open up since everything with my past.
He's always told me that I'm not the person everything thinks I am.
But now he's saying he doesn't want Emma to be like me. Why? Why doesn't he want her to be like me?
I feel like everything is slipping out of my grasp.
And he knows. He knows my worst fear is to turn out like my parents.
Because they were happy, and then I ended up in rehab and told them I was moving, and from there, everything went downhill. Now my Mom is living in an apartment in the city and my Dad is in the suburbs with a wife, helping her raise her thirteen year old daughter.
My Dad has a new family, and my Mom is alone. They argue with me and my two siblings over who gets to see us on what holiday, and every year we have to split it, and I'm the punching bag. If I can't come at a certain time but Claire and Liam can, it's my fault.
But Josh's parents come for the holidays, and it's like I'm getting dragged back and forth. I bear the weight of it so my siblings don't have to. I bear the weight of it so my kids don't have to.
And my worst fear, one that haunts my nightmares, is ending up like my parents.
But now my husband said something that contradicts everything he's ever told me.
It contradicts everything all the way back to my abortion.
It contradicts everything he's said to me in the last sixteen years.
And I feel like I'm trying to hold our relationship together in my head but it's slipping through my fingers.
We made a pact as a couple, an agreement, that no matter what the circumstance, no matter how bad it gets, we don't sleep until things are better again.
With tears streaming down my face, I pull my eyes from the ceiling to the clock on the wall.
2:14AM
My body is screaming at me to put my head down and go to sleep, but I'm not going to break the pact.
And if I do, I'm going to wake up in tears, in an office full of my employees.
I don't think so. That's not a good idea.
I run my fingers through my hair and flop my legs from the desk the floor, forcing myself into an upright position.
I need to go home.
I grab my purse and stand up.
I exit the office and lock the elevator behind me, walking out to the street.
My Escalade is sitting in the same parking spot that my Mercedes used to sit in out front of the building.
I wipe my tears and walk over to the Escalade, unlocking it.
I get the car and shut the door, resting my head on the steering wheel.
It's cold enough to make my nose numb, so I reach over and start the engine, pulling out onto the streets of New York.
When people say the city never sleeps, they're not kidding.

______

The porch light is on when I get home around four thirty in the morning.
I sit there and stare at the house, the memory of what happened flashing through my mind again.
I take a deep breath to keep myself from crying and kill the engine. I grab my purse and get out, locking the car. The horn chirps, and I walk through the cold air to the front door.
It's unlocked, even though it's never unlocked at this hour.
When I push the door open, the warmth of the house engulfs me. I shut the door quietly and lock it. The sound of the lock sliding into the wall ricochets around the foyer.
When I turn around, Josh is standing by the entrance to the living room, watching me.
Our eyes lock and a thick silence takes over the air. I can hear myself breathing, and the silence is so strong, my ears are ringing.
I pull my sweater around me, looking down at the ground. My hair falls from behind my ear and I tuck it back into place.
I have a dull headache, and my mouth and throat are dry because I cried away a lot of water. My eyes are stinging and I'm so tired, it takes effort to keep them open.
Silently, I walk past him to the kitchen, and I hear his footsteps behind me.
I open the fridge and grab a water bottle. I attempt to unscrew it, but my hands just slide around the cap, the grooves of the plastic lid scraping against my hand.
I try four times to get it to unscrew, but it won't.
I could be immature about the situation and just not drink water, but instead I look at Josh. He holds his hand out for the bottle and unscrews it in one try.
He hands it back to me with the lid off, setting the cap in my other hand. His fingertips are warm against my cold palm, and I wish we weren't fighting because I could really use a hug right now.
"Thanks." I mumble.
"You're welcome." He answers quietly.
I take a few sips of it and screw the cap back on.
The house falls into silence, and I vaguely hear Lucy snoring in the living room.
Josh is wearing sweatpants and a black long sleeve shirt, and I envy him for how comfortable he looks.
I was in a skirt and a button down earlier for work, and I changed right into jeans.
I'm ready to put on pajamas.
I clear my throat.
"I'm gonna go upstairs." I say quietly.
He nods slowly.
"Are you going to bed?"
I know if I told him yes, he would be really upset.
That goes against, like, the code of conduct of our marriage.
Breaking a pact that we've had in place for fifteen years? That's unforgivable.
"No." I whisper. "I'm just going to change. I will come back."
"Okay."
I leave my water on the counter and walk past him.
Just as I reach the entrance to the hallway, he speaks up.
"Kath?"
I stop, turning back to him.
"Yes?"
"I, um." He sighs slowly. "I love you."
He looks upset, so I force a small smile.
"I love you, too."
With that, I walk out of the room, making my way upstairs.
I feel disgusting.
I go into the bathroom and remove my clothes, sighing when I'm wearing nothing.
Jeans are so uncomfortable.
I stretch and grab a makeup wipe, removing all of it from my face, and then I remove my contacts too. My hair has some product in it and there's no way I'm going to bed like this.
I walk over to the shower and turn the dial.
I wait until the water is hot enough to where it's almost hot enough to burn me, and then I step under the spray, feeling my muscles relax.
I sigh, shutting my eyes as I soak my hair.
I stand there for a moment and then grab my shampoo, filling my palm with it.
Every shampoo bottle says to use a dime sized amount, but I don't know anybody on the planet that actually listens to that.
I lather my hair with the shampoo and let it sit there a moment before rinsing it out.
Afterwards, I lather my hair with conditioner.
I leave it in as I wash my body and shave my armpits, and then I rinse my body and all the conditioner.
I stand there for another minute or so, and then I shut off the water and get out, grabbing a towel.
I wrap it around my body and wrap another one in my hair.
After a moment, I remove the towel from my body and dry myself off completely.
I walk out of the bathroom to my dresser, grabbing a fresh pair of panties, black simple ones, bikini style. I get red white and black plaid pajama pants, and pull on a black tank top.
I start shivering, hissing under my breath.
It's so damn cold outside, no amount of heat in this house can make dressing after a shower peaceful.
I pull on gray socks and towel dry my hair viciously. I brush through it and dry it again, and keep doing that until it's mostly dry.
I put my towels in the hamper and walk over to my closet, shaking from how cold I am.
I dig through my things until I find a gray sweatshirt that says Boston Massachusetts in blue letters.
I pull it on, shoving my icy hands into the pockets.
I brush my teeth and then turn off the light in the bathroom and the one in the bedroom, grabbing the fuzzy gray blanket on the end of Josh and I's bed. I shut the bedroom door and make my way back downstairs.
My purse is sitting on the kitchen counter and the moment I walk in, Josh gets up off the couch and comes back to the kitchen. The blanket is wrapped around my shoulders. I grab my phone and shove it into the hoodie pocket, and pick up my water bottle off the counter.
I walk over to the couch, setting my water on the coffee table, alongside my phone. Josh sits down where he was, and I sit down too, leaving half a cushion of space between us. I pull the blanket over my body, resting my head on the back of the couch. I'm turned sideways facing him, my legs tucked next to me.
The TV is off, and Lucy is laying on the ground, but she hops up on the couch next to me and I reach behind me to ruffle her ears.
She sighs and goes back to sleep.
I guarantee she's pissed off that Josh and I aren't sleeping. She wants to go into our room because she sleeps there every night, too.
I force myself to turn to Josh, and we both stay quiet.
He isn't shivering. He doesn't even have socks on.
The man is always an oven.
We stay quiet for a few minutes, the memories of earlier playing over and over in my head.
And finally, I say what I need to say.
"What you said to me earlier was a punch to the face. You brought up my abortion in front of the kids. You mentioned the drugs. You said you didn't want Emma to be like me. I mean, do you still think I'm like that?" I pause. "And you said I was stubborn and annoying. That's just hurtful. I know I called you and dick, and I'm sorry for that."
His eyes remain on me.
"I didn't mean it the way you took it." He whispers. "I know you're not that person anymore, but that girl is a part of you. She made you into who you are today. Unfortunately, I did mean it. I don't want Emma to be like you. Like that version of you. But you now? The woman who owns a billion dollar company? That's who I want her to be. I want her to be strong and independent. I want her to know when to say no. I don't want her to struggle for money. I want her to be her own person. I don't want her to be the teenager that you were, and I'm sorry if that upsets you, but it's the truth. I'm not going to lie to you."
I pull the blanket closer around me.
"When you said that you didn't want her to be like me, I thought you meant me now. I thought you...I thought that you thought I'm just like what my family thinks I'm like. Because let's face it, they will always think of me as that girl. We both know that's why Liam doesn't come around. I see my niece's for holidays and that's it. You have always been the only person who ever believed in me. When you said what you said, I thought it was all a lie."
He shakes his head.
"No, I never meant for it to come out that way. I know who you are. Even when I found out you lied to me about who you are, I never once thought you were a bad person. I just...was hurt because you lied. But I knew not so deep down that you were still a good person. I knew you had your reasons for lying."
"I should have given you a chance to explain instead of just blowing up. The way we handled things tonight..." I shake my head. "We made a huge mess. We were...we were immature."
"I agree." He whispers.
We're both quiet for a minute, and he sighs.
"And...sweetheart, you are annoying." He says. "You are so annoying, sometimes you make me crazy. You poke me and talk during movies and you grab my ass even though you know it makes me uncomfortable. You're annoying as hell, but that's one of the reasons why I love you. And you are stubborn, you say it all the time."
I sigh.
"I know, I'm probably the most stubborn human to ever exist."
"Yeah, you probably are." He says. "But I love you. Love isn't about...the good things. Love isn't about loving you for your personality and the way you look. That's not what makes a successful marriage. While yes, I love you for your personality and the way you look, I also love you for how annoying and stubborn you are. You wouldn't be you if you weren't those things. I love you despite who you were when you were a teenager. I love you despite the bad things. That's what makes a good relationship. I'm sorry for saying those things rudely. I was being an asshole, and honestly? You called me a dick and I deserved it."
I laugh tiredly, and then I yawn.
"I love you, too." I say. "But I still shouldn't have called you a dick."
"Sometimes we say things we don't mean when we're angry. People say the truth comes out when you're mad, but I honestly don't believe it. When I was a teenager, I would fight with my parents and tell them that I hated them, even though I didn't. I just hated them in the moment for whatever we were fighting about."
"Well still, I'm sorry." I say.
"It's okay. I'm sorry too. For everything.
"It's okay." I reply softly.
We sit in silence for a few moments, and then he sighs.
"As for Emma...I'm aware I blew that situation out of proportion. It's hard enough for the kids being teenagers and trying to figure out things while their bodies are going through so many physical and hormonal changes. I remember it. I remember sitting in class and smelling somebody's armpits and realizing it was me. I know it's hard on them, and it's our job as their parents to guide them through it. She deserves the right to accept what's happening to her. She started her period, so of course she can get pads. She can eat chocolate and cry over things that aren't sad. She can shave, and get bras. It's part of growing up."
I nod tiredly.
"That's what I was trying to tell you." I say softly.
"Of course she can get that stuff." He says. "But Katherine, I need you to understand that Emma is my baby girl. She will always be two years old in my mind, and though I'm willing to accept her growing up, letting her wear a bikini at ten years old just makes me uncomfortable. I'm not okay with it. I would never ask you to agree to something that you aren't okay with. We need to come to some sort of an agreement with this. This parenting stuff is hard enough. It's easier as a team."
I sigh slowly.
"I agree. She's just as much your daughter as she is mine. The parenting thing is a team job, and we need to be on the same page. If you aren't comfortable with her wearing a two piece, when will you be comfortable?"
"When she's eighteen." He says.
I give him a sad smile.
"Sweetheart, that's unrealistic."
He sighs, frowning at the space between us.
"Thirteen." He says finally. "When she's thirteen. Any time sooner is too young."
"Okay." I say. "Thirteen. But when she turns thirteen, you can't turn around and tell her you're not okay with it."
"I won't. I'm sure I'll complain to you on the side about her growing up too fast, but she won't hear me complain." He holds up his pinkie. I move my hand out of the blanket and link my pinkie with his.
"Okay. We can tell her in the morning."
He nods in agreement.
"What about dating?" I ask. "She starts middle school next year."
"No. Absolutely not." He says. "Dating can wait until she's four hundred years old."
I laugh gently, shaking my head.
He smiles tiredly.
"Alright, how about sixteen. Is that fair?" He asks.
"Sixteen sounds fair." I nod.
He holds out his pinkie again, but I don't link mine with his.
"You know if Emma can't date until she's sixteen, the same thing applies to the boys, right?" I ask. "It's sexist to let them date earlier just because they're boys."
"I know. Sixteen for all four."
I nod, and this time when he raises his pinkie, I link mine with his.
"Now, as for them having sleepovers, they are not happening if the opposite sex is there." I say seriously. "I don't care what the circumstance is, and I don't care how many other people are going to be there. If Emma is at her best friends house and the girl has a brother, that's okay, but she's not going to a huge sleepover with a few girls and a couple of guys where they're all friends. They'll play seven minutes in heaven and before you know it, she's knocked up. The same thing applies to the boys. The only way that's happening, is if it's happening under our roof."
"I agree one hundred percent." He says.
I raise my pinkie this time, and he links his with mine.
The house falls silent and I'm still cold.
"When you left, where did you go?" He whispers.
"Work." I say.
"You went to work?" He asks.
"Yeah. I didn't want to involve our family." I shrug.
He nods in understanding.
We fall into another silence.
I shiver again, and then I yawn.
"Do you want to watch friends?" He offers.
"Is that even a question?" I ask.
He smiles and reaches for the remote, turning on the television. He changes it to Netflix and starts a random episode.
"I'll be right back, I have to pee." I say.
"Okay." He says.
I walk to the bathroom outside of the living room in the hallway by the dining room and do my business. I wash my hands and dry them shivering because the water is freezing, and then I go back to the living room.
Josh took the queen sized fluffy gray blanket and covered himself with it, and he's stretched across the couch.
The theme song starts as I grab my water, taking a few sips of it. I put it on a coaster and then turn to my husband. I move the blanket he took from me and sit down with my back against his chest.
He shifts, putting out his arm, and I lie down in front of him with my whole back against his front. He pulls the blanket over me and I rest my head on his arm. His other arm locks around my waist, and I shift around for a few seconds until I'm comfortable.
After about two scenes, I realize there's no way in hell I'm staying awake for this whole episode.
I roll over so I'm facing him, and he removes his eyes from the screen to my face.
I press my right hand against his cheek and tilt my head up so my lips meet his in a slow, soft kiss. He deepens it slowly and I can feel so much emotion between the two of us.
After a minute or so, I pull back and then peck his lips.
"I love you." I whisper.
"I love you more." He murmurs, lifting his hand on my waist to brush my hair away from my eyes.
"I love you most." I say back.
He smiles, so I give him one last kiss, and then shift my body on the couch.
The heat from his body is like a furnace under the blanket, and I feel myself stop shivering. I inhale the scent of pine and mint and it smells just like home. I bury my face in his chest and shut my eyes, falling asleep to the feeling of his heart beating against my forehead.

______

The end of this chapter made me so happy okay
~Sam