A/N I agonised writing this chapter. For real. Y'all better thank InfinityxInfinity95 cause she's the one that kept me going. Oh and go check out her stories! She also writes for SLP and her fics are pretty awesome. Anyway, enjoy!
HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP
July, 1, 2007
The next couple of days are a blur. Ever since Sunday, Tiffany starts acting weird around me, almost like she expects me to turn on her go back on my words and say I don't love her anymore.
On Monday, the strangest thing happens. I can sense the events from the night before playing on our minds, but although I am dying to ask her what is the thing that she wanted to tell me during the football match, I don't dare to because I have decided to give her time. So instead we end up having a normal, quiet breakfast. That is until I mention that I have a meeting after work and that I'll be late for dinner because of it. This is something I had mentioned a couple of weeks earlier, but instead of remembering that, Tiffany freaks out, drops the blue mug she was holding and it falls on the floor, shattering into pieces. I am a little shocked by this, but then she says, "oh god, you're having an affair" and her voice is trembling and I can see her eyes watering. I try to tell her that I'm not, that she knows I would never cheat on her because she is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and that I love her more than she will ever understand; but then she starts to shout that I am a liar and that I don't love her and that she should never have trusted me, all the while tears are streaming down her face. Then suddenly she starts to hyperventilate, and I get worried that this will be something more serious, but when I try to grab her to soothe her down she avoids my grasp and a few seconds later she is out of the door before I can stop her. I of course have a déjà vu moment because it feels like I am relieving the events of the night of Emily's birthday, but this time it's different. Instead of running away because she's angry, this time Tiffany looks really scared, and as much as I hate to admit this, it scares me too. That evening, I can't concentrate during the staff meeting and end up contributing nothing at all towards it, which I don't like because I like to be a functioning member or the school staff and I can't do that if I don't contribute ideas in the meetings. When I get home, I find some dinner leftovers in the kitchen, but Tiffany is nowhere to be seen. Somehow, I sense that she's upstairs in bed already, so I don't panic. Once I am finally ready for bed, I notice that Tiffany is already sleeping, or pretending to sleep, so we don't get a chance to talk to each other.
The next morning, Tiffany is up early. She spends a long time in the bathroom, so long that I am done with breakfast by the time she gets back. She is wearing a lot of makeup –more than usual— however I can still see the awful circles under her eyes despite her attempts at covering them. I also notice her eyes are red, but when I ask if she slept well, she replies "don't you need a shower too?" I reluctantly go shower, and when I come back Tiffany is finished and ready to leave for work. I think she is going to storm out, like she did the day before, but then she says "I'll see you tonight" and exists the house and I am left standing in the hallway not knowing what to do. At first, a part of me wants to get angry at Tiffany, but then I remember that a long time ago Nikki explained to me how a woman's menstrual cycle works and I figure Tiffany must be on her period right now, and that that is probably what she was trying to tell me on Sunday and why she has been acting so weird recently because I know that whenever Tiffany is on this time of the month she always gets a bit like this. So I decide not to give it much more thought and to be supportive and understanding, like I always am, because this time of the month is always the hardest for her.
At work, though, the unusualness of the whole situation unsettles me. It is better than the day before, but somehow there is something that doesn't make sense, because out of all the times I've seen Tiffany on her period, this is definitely the weirdest. I think of how she's never cried this much in all the time I've known her, let alone two days straight. I also think about the circles under her eyes, which means she's been having bad nights, but she will not tell me about them, and in the end I am worrying so much that I nearly miss my colleague's invitation for lunch. Back at home, we have a quiet dinner where none of us says anything. I then go to the living room and part of our routine is that she'll usually come over and lay on my chest and I'll put my arms around and we'll watch some TV, but she goes directly upstairs and I end up watching a stupid TV program on my own.
The following morning, things play out pretty much the same the same way. I spend the whole day worrying about Tiffany and her behavior and about how there's probably something that she's not telling me, and I don't like it. When we got together and told our therapists about it, they recommended to share as many things with each other in order to have a healthy relationship and 'make it work', as Cliff said, because as I said before the lack of communication between me and my ex-wife lead us to be apart. Even though Cliff is not my therapist anymore, and Dr Lily discharged Tiffany a few months after I stopped seeing Cliff, we still use their techniques on how to cope with stress, anxiety and each other. The way Cliff used to said 'make it work' used to annoy me a bit because it looked like he was saying we wouldn't be able to 'make it work' or that we didn't how to, but now I can see he had a point because Tiffany and I have been sharing everything up until now and now that she's not everything feels wrong and I don't like it. When I come home from work, I find that Tiffany is already home. Her purse is on the side table and her coat on the door hanger. This is weird, I think. Tiffany has a toddlers class on Wednesdays where she handles the smallest children and that means she is never back from work before me. And yet, here she is. But just as I am about to say something about it, I go into the living room and I find her curled up on the black couch, looking into space as if paralyzed by fear. Her eyes are red and puffy, they way they become after you have cried a lot, and unless I'm imagining it I think I can see a trail of dry tears on her face.
She doesn't look up when I come in.
She doesn't move at all.
"Tiffany, are you okay?" I ask.
When she doesn't respond I move closer to her and start to get a little worried. I think perhaps she is worried about work, perhaps she was fired and that's why she's here so early, but even though I ask her several times what's wrong, she still does not answer.
"Tiffany, goddamn it please tell me what's wrong!" My voice comes out a little brusquely, and I brace myself for her usual stream of curses, but they don't come, and I worry.
"Do you remember the night of Emily's birthday? When I ran away?" She says calmly, which takes me by surprise because I was expecting her to shout at me. "Well, I did a lot of thinking, before I got wasted drunk and came back home. I thought about us, which is funny since it seems like I am always the one having to think about any big decisions because somehow you've always got things figured out."
I try to tell her that that is not case, but she ignores me.
"And I thought about what you said, about having children."
She stays silent for a while, and I don't interrupt her because I have a funny feeling I know where this is going, and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet.
"I thought long and hard. I think deep down I realized you were right, but that day I was still pretty mad… at me… at you… so in the end I stopped thinking and got drunk instead. Typical me, huh? Over the course of the following week though, my mind kept going back to what you had said, and I couldn't shake the idea out of my head. What if we had children? What if it was a good thing? What if…? Just the 'what if' was enough to drive insane, even though technically I still am." She sighs, and I stay silent.
"Finally, on Saturday, before coming back home, I made up my mind about the whole issue. I was going to apologize to you, and I was going to let God and the universe decide. I was not going to take the pill for one day. Just one day." She looks at me, "I don't keep track of my menstrual cycle. I don't know which days are my fertile ones. I had no idea what would happen if I did not take the pill. I just thought…" Her voice trembles at this point. "I thought… maybe I'll get lucky and not… you know. If that's what God wants. Maybe he'll think I'm not ready and nothing will happen."
Her eyes fill with tears, and I have to stop myself from her clutching tightly against my chest.
"I thought everything was fine" She goes on. "I continued taking the pill after that, I thought that that would somehow counteract everything… but then I started throwing up and I knew. I just knew, but I didn't—I didn't want to, and I just…"
She starts to shake her head frantically. "I don't know what I wanted," she says.
"Tiffany what are you trying to say?"
"I…I'm…" She tries to tell me, but she ends up shaking her head and getting out a little white stick with a similar shape of a pen, but thicker in diameter. She hands it to me, and I see that inside a little circle, there are two pink lines.
And of course I know what it is.
And it all makes sense now, why she's been acting so weird lately. Why she's been throwing up so much. Why she's been crying so much. What she wanted to tell me during the football match. It's so obvious I wonder how I didn't see it before. But despite everything that has happened, despite the evidence pointing in only one direction and the truth staring me at the face, I cannot believe this is real. I want to say the word out loud, I want to ask if this is true or not, but I cannot bring myself to do it. So I just stand there, paralyzed, afraid that if I'm wrong all my dreams will come crashing down. Afraid that if I'm not, they will come true, and I don't know if I am ready for that.
"Tiffany, what does this mean?" I ask at last.
"What the fuck do you think this means, Pat!?" She snaps, but then brings her hand to her mouth and her eyes fill with tears again and before I know it she's in my arms, crying, and I am comforting her one more time. There are so many things I wish I could say to her, but for some reason the words can't find their way out and instead I end up crying with Tiffany.
When I pull away, I hold her face in my hands. God, she looks so worried it scares me.
"Tiffany" I manage to get out, "are you saying… are you saying you're…?" but I can't finish the question because the minute the words are out I know that it's a stupid thing to ask since I already know the answer. However, Tiffany slowly nods and then the reality of the situation hits me.
I'm going to be a daddy. I'm going to have a little Emily all for myself, or a little boy Tiffany and I will both love unconditionally, and there won't be any Ronnie or Veronica to tell me what or what not to do, and Mom will be so happy and Jake will be happy too and-
"I'm going to be a daddy!" I exclaim as I stand up and start jumping up and down and throwing my fits against the air. I am so happy! I am so incredibly happy!
After I calm down I look at Tiffany and see that she's not as enthusiastic as I am, which worries me a little especially since she is the one carrying the baby and she should be the most excited out of the two; but then I remember our conversation a few weeks ago, in the kitchen, and how she told me she didn't want children, and I get worried.
"Tiffany, are you alright?"
"God made a mistake."
"What are you saying?" I start to get really confused because I know that God does not make any mistakes and I thought Tiffany knew this and it overwhelms me.
"This must be a mistake, because I'm not ready. Pat, I'm not ready"
I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what she is saying.
"What do you mean? Tiffany—"
"I don't know!" She says. She gives me a look which once again shows her vulnerability at this stage, and I want to beat myself up for reacting so euphorically and not thinking about Tiffany beforehand.
We stare at each other for what seems like forever.
"I don't know, Pat." She repeats. She's biting her nails and I sense how anxious she is about the whole thing. I put both my hands on her shoulders and hope that somehow that will calm her down.
"Tiffany—"
"I'm not ready to be a mom." She looks at me and in her eyes I see fear.
For a while I don't know what to do. I know that Tiffany is wrong; every fibre of my body feels she is mistaken. I have seen Tiffany around kids lately and she's great with them. You can tell she has improved a lot from last year, especially since she doesn't even need a therapist anymore. It annoys me that she can't see this, and I want to tell her she's wrong and this will be great and we're going to be great parents. However, somewhere deep down I know I feel exactly the same way as her, and that just thinking about holding a fragile baby in my arms, after having broken so many fragile things in the past, is enough to scare the guts out of me.
So instead of answering, I let my actions speak for themselves. I take Tiffany's hand and get her out of the couch. Her face reflects confusion, but I don't explain. I take the iPod from the table and put on some music. Slowly, I position her so that her head is resting on my shoulder and I am hugging her torso. Then the music starts, and everything feels right.
This is where I'm meant to be, it is what I am meant to be doing. And nothing feels wrong anymore. I remember this is the woman who got me to give up football for an entire month, despite my doubts about it. This is a woman who perfectly choreographed a dance routine for us, and now frequently does the same thing for other people, including children. This is a woman who has opened up to me completely, who is not scared to admit she's weak, who's not afraid to cry in front of my anymore, or ask for help if she needs it. This is a woman who has improved so much in the past few months she almost seems like a different person; a woman who got me to face my deepest fears, and is slowly learning how to cope with hers.
There is something great about all this, and I know that no other woman would be more prepared to deal with a baby after having gone through everything Tiffany has gone through, except for her.
So I pull away, cup her perfect face between my hands and say, "You're gonna be great."