Chapter 2: Married
Our first year of marriage I'd like to remember as the Year of the blissful newly wed. Now, the reason I say this is, because the bliss of the marriage bed often gives way to a blossoming honeymoon period filled with wonder in that first sexual encounter after the bride's voluminous wedding gown falls to the floor as man and wife give themselves unreservedly to their passions. Of course, these wonderful moments of deep intimacy are strongest early in the marriage. However, this is common knowledge for those who enter a marriage contract, but if you happened to miss out on this important detail, I feel it my honorable duty to point it out to you. Now back to my story: Our lives had blended so wonderfully that year, and having consummated our marriage ... Yes, consummated it as in Serena had been the first woman I ... well, to put it bluntly, Serena was the first woman I'd ever made love to.
Serena was a breath of fresh air; in that first year with each passing day, she taught me things ... pleasurable things about the magic art of love and sex. We lived to please one another, and that seemed to be enough as during this time there were no apparent problems.
Serena and I had attended the same college; she took dance as her major, for she wanted to be a dance teacher more than anything else in the world. It had been her dream ever since she was a little girl, but for the most part I didn't think this a wise decision. Don't get me wrong; she was a splendid dancer, plenty of talent and dedication. Serena would stop at nothing to accomplish her goal once her mind was made up. However, in my opinion, I felt this to be a frivolous ambition for there were few opportunities in such a profession.
It would be a fine hobby, but for making a career of it, this was by my way of thinking a ludicrous notion. I felt she could do a lot better for herself in another field, but for the moment my mouth kept shut. I didn't want to cause any unnecessary friction between myself and my new bride. Especially since the marriage seemed to be progressing quite smoothly between us.
I believe our first marital problems emerged after I'd graduated from college and joined my father's practice. However, as I soon discovered, my dear old dad decided to cut off my allowance to encourage my financial independence. I was livid; he couldn't have picked a more difficult time for throwing me into the deep end. I found myself for the first time in my life financially on my own and with a wife to support. It might not have been so bad if he hadn't started me off at rock bottom in the firm. I had no option other than to work my way up through the ranks.
I spent almost every night committed far more to my work than my wife having locked myself away in my den punching numbers for a handful of clients I'd managed to secure. I wracked my brain to figure out ways to pay the ever mounting bills. Matters weren't helped by the fact I had my heart set on becoming full partner by year's end. I wanted this with the intension of giving Sere and I complete financial independence; I wanted her to never be in need of anything, because she would already have it. Whether she wished it to be spent on frivolous things such as expensive clothes and jewelry, or to help her pay for her tuition fees, I wanted her to depend on me for everything, call me a traditionalist, but I was her husband, and to my mind that meant my role in life was to support her, and never the other way round.
She didn't like the fact I wouldn't accept her money to help pay the bills. She accused me of being sexist and idealistic; she felt I was trying to change her into the stereotypical housewife. Serena resented the fact I would spend the majority of my free time working as opposed to paying enough attention to our marriage. She'd occasionally go out of her way to make a fabulous dinner for us in hopes I wouldn't be to busy to enjoy it with her and not as was my usual practice skip the meal or eat alone in the den in front of my computer. I know most of you are thinking of me as a cold hearted bastard, but I needed to get my work done, simple as that. I regretted neglecting her whenever I stopped long enough to listen to my conscience, but I had to stay focused, or all my hard work would have been in vain. I couldn't allow that to happen, so I simply convinced myself I'd make it up to her once I had become full partner, and in this at least I had accomplished.
By the time the year ended I'd earned enough money for my beautiful wife and me to move into a spacious condo. I tried desperately to make time for her, but I hadn't expected to be submerged in additional work. Serena's schedule as well was extremely hectic at this time; I eventually gave up trying to find various ways for us to spend more time together, yet again convincing myself this was due to our clashing lifestyles. I believed it would change once she had graduated from college, and then I'd make the effort to work on improving our relationship. Unfortunately nothing changed after her graduation. In fact, things only seemed to get worse between us and went down-hill from there.
Graduation brought with it more time for her to pick arguments with me. God help me I loved her in spite of it all, but she knew just how to push my buttons. The central argument between us revolved around the issue of children. I wanted her to get off the pill, but she refused because in her mind we weren't mentally prepared for the responsibility. How the hell can one be mentally prepared for parenthood? Women and their reasoning... Anyways we fought constantly over this subject; she wanted to set up her studio before even considering the idea of having children. She accused me of trying to change her into a 'trophy wife' and take away her independence.
What's the deal with the female mind's obsession with the expression, 'Trophy Wife?' In my opinion, Trophies are hard earned rewards for outstanding achievement in a given field.
I know exactly what your thinking, 'what a chauvinistic pig,' right? However, you need to see it from my point of view ... don't get me wrong, I love my wife dearly despite all that's happened between us. You see, Serena may be the most important person in my life, but I don't see how her mundane interests, misplaced opinions and her need to win every argument could be considered a 'reward' ... or a trophy? The word trophy and wife just don't belong together, I'm sorry but they just don't. Not a good comparison; should be banned from the English language.
The real explanation as to why I wanted to have children was because I wanted her to be happy with me, bind us together. I had the idea etched in my mind that if she carried my children, somehow everything would change for the better. She would love our children and love me for giving them to her, but on every single occasion I brought it up she wouldn't listen. In the end I relented and agreed to wait until she had established her precious dance studio. During construction Serena was happy, for each day I was greeted with warm smiles, and we made love more often. I truly believed our marriage had changed for the better, and would stay that way. Foolish dreams die hard, don't they?
Serena was so happy when she took the call from the project manager who told her that construction had finally concluded on the studio; it wasn't too long before she withdrew from me completely as if what we'd reclaimed was brushed aside in a single phone call. Serena put her whole heart into making that dance studio a hit by hiring the best people, organizing the curriculum and throwing herself into a full on promotional campaign. She had shut me out due to work commitments, for it would be hypocritical of me if I stood in her way when she was only doing as I had done in the beginning of our marriage, so I accepted the situation. I hoped once everything had settled down and the studio was a going concern, Serena might re-consider her position on starting a family.
Twelve months had passed after the studio's official opening; Serena had just celebrated her twenty fifth birthday. The studio was indeed a roaring success. I was forced to re-think my gloomy forecast concerning her choice of career. The studio with its healthy client base meant financial independence, and for this reason, I thought it a good time to broach the subject of children with my loving wife.
To say she took a tantrum put it mildly ... I think 'rampage' far more appropriate. She told me I was selfish and accused me of attempting to control her life. I chose that moment to tell her exactly what I thought of her dance career. If she felt she had the right to ridicule me, shouldn't I return the favor? Needless to say; she walked out on me and didn't come back for over a month. Andrew had contacted her; he told her I was an absolute wreck. The day Serena entered the condo; she found me in bed with over a dozen empty liquor bottles strewn across the floor while I cradled two full bottles in my arms as I lay in an unconscious state upon the bed.
It took a week for me to finally sober up after my bout of, shall we say ...incapacitation. Serena moved back in and after talking things through, we decided to drop the whole idea of children for the time being.
The next twelve months were relatively uneventful. We could have been far happier than we were at that stage of our lives; Serena was twenty six and I thirty one. I felt we were allowing the best years of our lives to pass by. Things should have been a lot better between us. However, as with all good things, I managed to screw it up as only I can.
Can I assume you're more than just a little curious as to how she arrived at her decision of a trial separation? To appreciate how this monumental decision came about, allow me to explain. It all took place to weeks back. 'Please reserve your opinions of me until you've at least read this chapter, and hear me out ... well, maybe to on the safe side judge me after this story.
Flashback
"Morning' love," I whispered groggily as I stared into Serena's eyes. She always had the tendency to wake before I did and snuggle close to me idly stroking my hair until I woke. She knew how much I hated to wake alone. I needed her there beside me and part of me believed she shared this need too.
"Morning... is that all you have to say?" She asked as her bright cerulean eyes shone in the morning sunlight. I wrapped my arms about her slim waist and cuddled up close to her warm body.
"Is there something I should be saying right now?" I asked nipping gently at her collarbone. I could sense I might be in a little trouble soon, so I decided to distract her. But this should be new, I know most men ca agree that once entering marriage you gain a sixth sense for these things always knowing when your about to get into a lot of trouble.
"Oh I get it, pretending to forget ... Okay, I'll play along, far be it from me to ruin your fun," Serena said with a slightly amused expression on her pretty face. I was thrown off guard and I wasn't sure what to say as her words had me completely baffled. 'What am I pretending to forget?' I asked myself as anxiety saturated my thoughts.
Suddenly, these concerns were banished when my lovely wife began to plant soft kisses along my jaw line and softly nibble my ear and sucked sensually upon my neck with her sweet lips. God she could always cause me to lose control; I couldn't resist those thrilling sensations coursing through my body, so I pinned her to the mattress and attacked her succulent lips with my hungry kisses. Unfortunately the moment was shattered when the phone rang; I could have screamed. I protested vigorously, and suggested if the call were important they'd surely leave a message or call back, but she was having none of it. I glowered at the shrilling beast dancing triumphantly upon the bedside table as she detached herself from my embrace. I sat dejected as she reached for the receiver.
I would have tried to seduce her into hanging up had I not known this would be an exercise in futility. Every time I tried to distract her from her calls in the past she'd play along for a moment and then the phone would win out. Serena would leave me with a very uncomfortable hard-on. I sometimes wonder if women had been instructed in the fine art of torturing their men ... they have to be high adepts, for they're so damn good at it. After a freezing cold shower, and a hot cup of coffee later, I was off to work after giving my garrulous wife a kiss goodbye.
I spent the morning interviewing several new clients; it wasn't until lunch that I remembered Serena's words. I couldn't let it be known I had actually forgotten whatever the hell I was supposed to remember.
'Dear readers ... notice how confused the days in my life can be.'
I of course, didn't want to get into trouble with my beloved meatball head. I had to do some fancy footwork, and put on my thinking cap. I assumed sending her a dozen roses ought to be enough to do the trick.
"Grace, would you please call the florists and have them deliver a dozen roses to my home to my wife Serena." I asked my secretary through the intercom.
"Certainly Mr. McKinnon ... and the card, what would you like the message to read?" she asked with a smile in her tone.
"Shit, hadn't thought that far. Have it say, 'to my lovely wife,' and nothing more," I replied quickly.
"Okay sir, I'll organize that for you straight away." I smiled smugly to myself satisfied I wouldn't be caught. I sat back in my high-backed leather chair and crossed my arms behind my head and sank into the soft black leather and let out a long sigh of relief and congratulated myself for my quick thinking. If only more men were quick thinkers like me they'd never have any trouble with their spouses.
The rest of the day I spent number-crunching with my father; the work schedule demanded we put in the necessary overtime to get the work finished in time. I assumed my wife wouldn't mind since I had already sent the flowers. By the time I returned home it was near midnight. I was exhausted and just wanted to slide into bed and sleep the weekend away. The moment I opened the door a series of 'unidentified flying objects' flew in my direction. I was struck in the chest and the blow almost knocked me off my feet, and then another hit me in almost the same place with equal force. I struggled to avoid as adroitly as possible the numerous objects thrown at me. I made my way towards the light switch almost believing the apartment was possessed, for my assailant had a supernatural aim and clear advantage in the dark.
To my surprise and disbelief it wasn't poltergeist activity ... it was my very angry wife. After I'd managed to turn on the lights; I stood face to face with Serena who held another large hardback book in her hand in attack position. We stood frozen to the spot for a few seconds that seemed more like an eternity. Serena's usually bright-blue eyes had darkened considerably; her cheeks flushed with anger. Every muscle in her petite body wound tight like a bomb timer set to explode. She stood like an avenger beside a coffee table laden with a pile of books. I was too afraid to ask what had brought her to this state, but I knew it was bad and I'd really done it this time. I took in my surroundings and realized everything had been trashed. Broken vases, glass and two antique tables had come to grief as an icy chill move through me. Yes indeed, asking her what I'd done to offend her would have meant certain death. I waited for her to break the silence.
"You ass hole! Where the hell were you?" She screamed not caring if our neighbors down stairs heard us.
"At work ... where else," realizing sarcasm was definitely not the way to go as I was rewarded with another flying book. I cursed profusely as it made contact with my forehead, and thanked my lucky stars it was only a paperback.
"Don't you dare get cheeky with me, Darien… You've no right! Did you honestly think a dozen roses would fool me, Darien? ... Do I look like some kind of idiot to you?" she shouted as tears brimmed in her beautiful eyes. My heart broke at the sight. I hated it when she cried; it was worse when I was responsible.
"Serena... Darling," I said opening my palms face up in a gesture of placation.
"Don't you Serena darling me, you forgot didn't you ... admit it. You forgot, Darien!" she bellowed staring at me; her eyes full of derision.
I lowered my head in submission and nodded weakly. I then braced myself for whatever came next be it books or cutting words, but nothing could have prepared me for what followed. My head shot up as I heard her choked back sobs as tears glided freely down her crimson cheeks.
"Our anniversary, Darien ... you forgot our anniversary." She whispered meekly before she turned and ran through the front door into the night. I stood there paralyzed with shock and guilt; I had never felt as low in my life as I had in that moment knowing the hurt I'd caused her... Serena had run out of my life.
The next day much to my surprise Serena returned to confront me once more; she screamed at me while I sat there and took it on the chin. I didn't bother defending myself, because I had absolutely no excuses. I deserved everything she had said about me; I held the naive notion in my head that once she had got this off her chest perhaps everything would be okay again. I believed she'd forgive me and I'd have an opportunity to make it up to her, but instead, she asked for the trial separation. Serena had explained she needed to evaluate our marriage and decide whether or not her future happiness lay with me or not, for on this last point she wasn't optimistic.
End flashback
Well, there you have it folks, and that's how things stand ... I'm alone and it's all my doing. I know you're probably looking for the nearest knife or heavy object to kill me with, but I assure you this won't be necessary ... mind you; I would rather save you all the trouble and do it myself. Enough of my self recrimination, for I intend to win her back. My main problem is how to do so. Am I really willing to sacrifice for her and is giving my all enough? ... I guess I'll never know until I make the effort.