All Your Perfects(69)

I would never tell you this because I know part of you would take it the wrong way, but I think my favorite moments in the past year are all the moments when we aren’t home. When we go out with our friends or visit our parents. I’ve noticed when we’re home, you’ve become a little more withdrawn when I touch you or kiss you. It used to be that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but something changed earlier this year. And I know it’s only because sex has become so clinical between us, that it’s starting to feel routine to you. Maybe even a little painful, because it never leads to what you hope it leads to. Sometimes when we’re alone and I kiss you, you don’t kiss me back like you used to. You don’t turn away, but you barely reciprocate.

You tend to enjoy me more when you know a kiss has to stop at a kiss. In public, you reciprocate and you lean on me and I know it’s a subtle difference, but there’s a difference. I think our friends think we’re the most affectionate couple they know because we always have our hands all over each other. They probably imagine our private life is even more affectionate.

But it’s actually our private life that has stalled. And I am not complaining, Quinn. I didn’t marry you just for the good years. I didn’t marry you just for the amazing chemistry we have. And I’d be foolish to think our marriage could last an eternity without a few tough moments. So, while this year has been our toughest yet, I know one thing with complete certainty. I love you more this year than any year that came before it.

I know I sometimes get frustrated. Sometimes I miss when we made love on a whim, rather than on a schedule. But I ask that even in the times I get frustrated, please remember that I’m only human. And as much as I promise to be your pillar of strength for as long as you need one, I’m sure I will sometimes fail you. My whole purpose in life is to make you happy, and sometimes I feel like I’m unable to do that anymore. Sometimes I give up on myself.

But I just pray that you don’t give up on me, too.

I love you, Quinn. I hope this is the last depressing letter I ever write to you. My hope is that next year, my letter will be full of good news.

Until then, I will continue to love you more and more with every struggle we face than I loved you when all was perfect.

Graham

P.S. I don’t know why I only vent about the stressful stuff. So much good has happened in the last couple of years. We bought a house with a big backyard and we spent the first two days christening every room. You got a promotion a few months ago. Now you only have to go into the office one or two days a week. You do most of the writing for the advertising firm from home, which you love. And we’ve talked about the possibility of me opening my own accounting firm. I’m working on a business plan for that. And Caroline gave us another niece.

All good things, Quinn.

So many good things.



* * *




Dear Quinn,

We’ve been trying.

Trying to have a baby. Trying to adopt a baby. Trying to pretend we’re okay. Trying to hide from each other when we cry.

It’s all our marriage has become. A whole lot of trying and not much succeeding.

I truly believed we could make it through all the Category 5s we faced, but I think this year has been a Category 6. As much as I hope I’m wrong and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I have a feeling we’ll be opening this box soon. Which is why I’m on a flight to your sister’s house right now as I write this letter. I’m still fighting for something I don’t even know that you still want me to fight for.

I know I failed you, Quinn. Maybe it was self-sabotage or maybe I’m not the man I thought I could be for you. Either way, I am so disappointed in myself. I love you so much more than my actions have shown and I could spend this whole letter telling you how sorry I am. I could write an entire novel that’s nothing more than an apology and it still wouldn’t detail my regret.

I don’t know why I did what I did. I can’t even explain it, even when I tried to tell you about it that night in the car. It’s hard to put into words because I’m still trying to process it. I didn’t do it because of some intense attraction I couldn’t fight. I didn’t do it because I missed having sex with you. And even though I tried to convince myself that I was doing it because she reminded me of you, I know how stupid that sounds. I never should have said that to you. You’re right, in a way it sounded like I was blaming you, and that was never my intention. You had nothing to do with what I did.

I don’t want to talk about it, but I need to. You can skip this part of the letter if you don’t want to read it, but I need to work through it and for some reason, writing about things in these letters always seems to help sort through my thoughts. I know I should be better at communicating them, but I know you don’t always want to hear them.

I think the way I’ve been feeling started during a moment I had at my sister’s house. I guess you could say it was an epiphany, but that sounds like such a positive word for what I was feeling. It was the day we were supposed to meet our new nephew, but you said you got stuck in traffic.

I know that was a lie, Quinn.

I know, because when I was leaving Caroline’s house, I saw the gift we bought her in the living room. Which means you had been there at some point during my visit, but for whatever reason, you didn’t want me to know.

I thought about it during my whole drive home after leaving her house. And the only thing I can think of that would make you not want to admit you were there is if you saw me standing in Caroline’s living room, holding Caleb. And if you saw that, you might have heard what Caroline said to me, and what I said to her in return. About how I was devastated I still hadn’t become a father yet. As much as I wish I could take that away, I can’t. But I do need you to know why I said it.