"I love you, but…"
For as long as Audrey could remember, that was the way the phrase always went.
From a young age, she was very aware that things would have been easier on her mother if she didn't exist. She was reminded of it every time she went looking to her mother for affection. And she did have to go looking for it, because her mother was usually too busy or too tired to stop and acknowledge her daughter all on her own.
Many of Audrey's earliest memories involved feeling like a burden. She cost them money when she outgrew her clothes or her shoes, she sometimes needed to ask for help with her homework when her mom had been working long shifts and just wanted to rest, there was the trouble of arranging childcare when she was too young to be left at home alone, and a whole lot of other problems as well.
Hearing those things was something she came to expect after those first three words. So Audrey learned quickly to think that love and finding faults were connected. They were always connected. They had to be, as she'd never known one without the other.
When she got older, the first three words of the phrase became something she never heard at all.
Even so, she found no shortage of men who would tell her the flaws they saw in her. She learned that she wasn't smart enough, or charming enough, or interesting enough. The one thing people did seem to think she was good for was her looks. And even then, she'd had her self-esteem torn down enough times that she became afraid to leave her apartment without her hair perfectly set and her face made up enough that she could hardly see herself underneath.
But she would always remind herself that this was the way it was supposed to be. She never liked the way she felt when she was with these men, but the thought of being alone felt worse. So she always stayed with them, always clung on to the relationship until they were the one to break it off. And when they called her names or insulted her, she tried to hope that maybe it also meant that they cared.
"Do you love me?'
She would never know what had possessed her to ask the question.
She knew better than to ask anything of him. Opening her mouth at all only ever seemed to make things worse. But they'd lasted longer than most of her relationships, long enough that she was allowed to refer to him as her boyfriend. It wasn't something that happened often for her, but it didn't feel like it had changed anything. And that night, she couldn't quite keep her feelings in as she watched him head for the door as soon as he got what he wanted, leaving her feeling sore and used and unwanted.
She just wanted someone who would stay. Why didn't they ever stay? She desperately wanted was someone who would spend the whole night there with her, not because they wanted something from her, but just because they liked her.
But he didn't even answer, only turned around briefly, looked her up and down, and scoffed. The answer was clear as day. Of course he didn't. She only managed to keep from sobbing long enough to wait for the door to slam behind him.
"I love you."
Her favorite way to hear it was when he'd just woken up in the morning, his hair tousled and his eyes not quite focused, and she knew that he couldn't even see her clearly because he hadn't put his glasses on yet.
What she liked most of all was that, aside from when she said it back, it was followed by nothing but silence. The first time she'd heard it from him, she'd stood there and waited, knowing the rest would surely be coming. In a moment, he would tell her what she had done wrong, or what she needed to change. But that part never did come.
And in those mornings, she could feel a warm glow inside as he nestled in closer to her, not quite ready to shake off the sleep and already starting to drift off again. Having a husband was even better than she ever imagined. He was always still there in the morning, even when she worried it would all turn out to be a dream that was too good to be true. And when he told her those three words, it never came with a complaint, or a criticism, or even an expectation of anything in return. He just wanted her to know.