“No, what you want is for me to be the wife I used to be. I don’t think you want me as I am now.”
Graham stares at me a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Is it so bad that I missed it when I was convinced that you were in love with me? When you would get excited to see me? When you wanted to make love to me because you wanted to and not because you just wanted to get pregnant?” He leans forward, pegging me with his stare. “We can’t have kids, Quinn. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I didn’t marry you for the potential kids we might have had together one day. I fell in love with you and I committed to you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I cared about when I said my vows. But I’m starting to realize that maybe you didn’t marry me for the same reasons.”
“That’s not fair,” I say quietly. He can’t insinuate that I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known he couldn’t have kids. And he can’t say he still would have married me if he’d had that knowledge prior to our marriage. A person can’t confidently proclaim what they would have done or how they would have felt in a situation they’ve never been in.
Graham stands up and walks to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and I sit silently as he drinks it. I wait for him to come back to the table to continue the conversation, because I’m not ready to speak again. I need to know everything he’s feeling before I decide what to say. What to do. When he takes his seat again, he reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. He looks at me sincerely.
“I will never put a single ounce of blame on you for what I did. I kissed someone who wasn’t you and that was my fault. But that’s only one issue out of a dozen issues we have in this marriage and they are not all my fault. I can’t help you when I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” He pulls my hand closer and cradles it between both of his. “I know that I have put you through hell these past few weeks. And I am so, so sorry for that. More than you know. But if you can forgive me for putting you through the worst thing imaginable, then I know we can get through the rest of it. I know we can.”
He’s looking at me with so much hope in his expression. I guess that’s easy to do when he honestly believes him kissing someone else is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
If I weren’t so outraged, I would laugh. I pull my hand away from him.
I stand up.
I try to suck in a breath, but I had no idea anger settled in the lungs.
When I’m finally able to respond to him, I do it slowly and quietly because if there’s anything I need for Graham to understand, it’s everything I’m about to say. I lean forward and press my palms against the table, staring directly at him.
“The fact that you think what you did with that woman was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me proves that you have no idea what I’ve been through. You have no idea what it’s like to experience infertility. Because you aren’t experiencing infertility, Graham. I am. Don’t get that confused. You can fuck another woman and make a baby. I can’t fuck another man and make a baby.” I push off the table and spin around. I planned to take a moment and gather my thoughts, but apparently, I don’t need a moment, because I immediately turn and face him again. “And I loved making love to you, Graham. It’s not you I didn’t want. It was the agony that came afterward. Your infidelity is a walk in the park compared to what I experienced month after month every time we had sex and it lead to nothing but an orgasm. An orgasm! Big fucking deal! How was I supposed to admit that to you? There was no way I could admit that I grew to despise every hug and every kiss and every touch because all of it would lead to the worst day of my life every twenty-eight fucking days!” I push past the chair and walk away from the table. “Fuck you and your affair. I don’t give a fuck about your affair, Graham.”
I walk into the kitchen as soon as I’m finished. I don’t even want to look at him right now. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been and I’m scared of what it did to him. I’m also scared that I don’t care what it did to him.
I don’t even know why I’m arguing issues that are irrelevant. I can’t get pregnant now no matter how much we fight about the past.
I pour myself a glass of water and sip from it while I calm down.
A few silent moments go by before Graham moves from the table. He walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter in front of me, crossing his feet at the ankles. When I work up the courage to look at his eyes, I’m surprised to see a calmness in them. Even after the harsh words that just left my mouth, he somehow still looks at me like he doesn’t absolutely hate me.