The Last Exhale Part 11

"Why'd you have to do that?" she asks when I put the pills in her hand.

I shrug, not sure why I did it.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nod.

"What happened to your marriage?"

Saliva in my mouth grows thick, almost as thick as the protein smoothie. "I'd be able to answer if I knew the answer."

"How long have you been married?"

"Nine years a couple of months ago."

She sucks air through her teeth. "Going on seven for me. Don't know if I'll live to see nine."

"That bad?"

She leans back against the sofa. "He's the best husband and father any woman could ask for, but I'm bored with him. I feel like it should be a lot more, a lot better than it is. That's what makes it bad, what makes me the bad guy."

"You're willing to leave your marriage due to boredom?" I want to make sure I'm understanding her correctly.

"I'm not fulfilled, feel like I'm suffocating. Every anniversary is like someone is smothering my face with a hundred pillows."

I fold my arms across my chest, press my back hard against the base of the sofa. "Have you told him how you feel?"

She shakes her head. "I've tried a time or two. Never comes out right. He ends up taking it to mean we need to go on vacation or something."

"Well, how do you want him to respond?"

Sydney sits in the middle of my living room floor with her bottle of water in hand. She sits and screws and unscrews the cap, keeps doing that. "I want him to keep pursuing me like he did in the beginning. He's gotten settled in our relations.h.i.+p and our marriage. It's not always about a new place to go or a new food to try. I don't think he gets it, don't think he gets me."

I get up from the floor and march to the bathroom. Like the Southwest commercial suggests, I need to get away, even if it is just another square foot away. Need to be alone with my thoughts.

Listening to Sydney spill her reasons for being in an unhappy marriage makes me think of Rene. Makes me think about how despondent she's become over the years. Wonder if she felt like she was suffocating being married to me. Was I boring her to death so much that she felt leaving me would revive her back to life? Did she ever try to communicate to me in a way I didn't understand her, take her thoughts to mean something totally different? Did I stop pursuing her?

Back in the living room, Sydney's still in the middle of the floor, knees pulled into her chest, arms folded around them. She rocks back and forth, lost in her thoughts.

I sit back in my spot against the couch. Ask, "If he were to start loving you the way you feel you need to be loved, you think you'd stay for life?"

She twirls a few strands of hair around her finger, ponders the question. "I really don't know the answer to that."

"Sounds like you're not too clear on what you want then."

Her hair falls from her fingers. She kicks her legs out in front of her, crosses her ankles. "Let me ask you, how'd you end up here?" She spreads her arms outward.

I follow her eyes around my empty apartment. "Got to a point where nothing I did made a difference. Got fed up."

"Do you have kids?"

I shake my head. That's a place I'm not ready to invite her to. Didn't have an answer for her the first time she asked in my car a couple of weekends ago. Don't have an answer for her now.

"Well, you're fortunate. Kids make walking away a lot harder. At least for the woman it does."

My posture stiffens. "Walking away is walking away, whether you have kids or not. If the love between man and woman changes, kids won't make it any easier or harder. It's just a sacrifice someone has to be willing to make."

"Oh, it's different. Trust me."

Maybe she's right. I've thought about it before. Had our son been here, I would've fought a lot harder. Would've shown Rene I meant what I said when we stood before G.o.d, that death would be the only thing to separate us. But that's not how our story went.

"I just think kids complicate a lot."

"You almost say that like you regret having them."

She throws her head in her hands, rubs her hands down her face. "Jeez, I don't mean to sound like that. I just...I don't know."

"We had a son," I hear myself say.

"Had? What happened?"

"He went to sleep one night and never woke back up."

"I'm so sorry." She can barely look at me.

I fiddle around with the carpet. Rub my hands back and forth across it. Do whatever I can to keep her from seeing the sadness in my eyes.

"How old was he?"

Had. Was. Hate referring to my flesh and blood in past tense. "Five."

All she can do is shake her head back and forth. Don't know if she does it to shake away thoughts about being without her own kids or to keep herself from crying.

My throat suddenly becomes dry. When I swallow, it feels like my throat is being stuffed with dryer sheets. I get up to grab another bottle of water from the kitchen. "Can I get you something else to drink?"

She declines.

When I walk back out, Sydney's standing by the front door. "Didn't realize it was so late. Gotta figure out how I'm going to get out of this."

I say, "Talk it out."

"I wasn't talking about the marriage." Before walking out the door, she turns back to look at me. She looks down at her shoes, says, "The first time Eric and I met, I knew he wasn't the one for me, but I kept dating him. I kept trying to convince myself that I was falling in love with him, and for a moment, I thought I had." She fidgets with the keys in her hand, still avoiding eye contact. "When he proposed, my soul said no, but my lips betrayed me. Here I am, almost seven years and two kids later, and I still feel the same, like he's not the one for me."

For a moment, I feel like I'm her husband. Feel like I've been denied access into the heart of the woman I married. An innocent bystander in the demise of my own marriage.

20.

SYDNEY.

I'm in a daze.

Been this way since getting back from Brandon's place. Don't remember picking the kids up from my mother's house. Don't remember cooking dinner or running EJ's bathwater. I'm so used to this life that I don't have to think about what I do day in and day out. It's who I am, who I've become.

Splashes from the hall bathroom reminds me my son is still in the tub. I push the door open, see him flipping around in the water like he's a dolphin auditioning to be a new member at SeaWorld. I pull the door back, leave it halfway cracked. Contemplate if I'd be a bad mother if I let him stay in there all night.

Eric Sr. walks up the stairs with a giggling Kennedy on his back. He drops her off at the top of the stairs, pats her lightly on the backside. Tells her, "Time to get ready for bed."

"Are you gonna read to me?" she asks.

I walk downstairs, let them have their moment.

Forrester is in his usual spot by the fireplace. I bend over, pick him up. Nearly break my back. "We've got to put you on a diet, buddy." He yawns in my face. His breath has the smell of a ten-day-old dead fish baking in an Arizona sun. I quickly put him back down.

My running shoes are tossed over by the front door. They stare back at me. I wanna put them on, lace them up and run away from here. The more time I spend with Brandon, the more it's evident I shouldn't be in this marriage. I'm not me, not the me I used to be. Not the me I want to be.

I feel lips on my cheek. Didn't realize I was no longer alone.

"How was your workout?" asks my husband.

I straighten a family picture on the mantle. "It was fine. Ran intervals, lifted a few weights. You know, the usual," I say, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm all for the fitness, babe, but maybe you should cut back some."

"Why would you say that?"

"Just seems like you're either at the gym every evening or getting up at the crack of dawn to run at the park."

I turn around to look at my husband. "I could say the same about you with all these extra hours you've been putting in at work lately."

"It's not the same."

"And why not? Time away from home is time away from home. Doesn't matter the reason."

"I'm just saying, Syd."

Forrester meows for my attention. I rub him a couple of times on the top of his head. He purrs his contentment as he walks off to his food dish. It only takes a few rubs across his fur for him to not feel neglected. Wish it were the same for my husband.

"Mom," Kennedy yells from the top of the stairs, "I gotta pee and EJ won't let me in the bathroom."

"Those two." I head toward the stairs.

Eric reaches out and grabs my hand, pulls me into him. My mouth barely opens as his tongue penetrates my lips and tiptoes across mine.

"Mom, EJ locked me out."

My husband's kiss leaves me breathless, leaves me wanting more. He leaves me panting for air as he runs up the stairs to see what all the ruckus between the kids is all about.

I fall into the sofa.

A couple of hours ago, I was almost certain I was ready to walk out of this marriage. It made so much sense. The longer I stay here, the unhappier I become. The more I resent myself. And in return, the more I resent my husband and kids. They don't deserve this. I don't deserve them.

Is boredom really a reason to leave this home I've made?

I'm beginning to feel like that reason's not good enough, and that scares me.

The first thing I do after pulling into an open parking s.p.a.ce at the job is grab my cell and call my good friend Katrina. "You were right," I say when she answers.

"About?"

"I'm falling for him."

"I knew it."

"How could you know? It wasn't even like that when we were at the lounge."

She sucks air through her teeth, then huffs. "Do you really believe that lie?"

My reflection grabs my attention in the rearview mirror. Crinkled brows, a pout in my lips. Hurt written all over my face. "Hey, Kat, where's all of this coming from? I'm calling you as my friend, and right now, you're not making me feel friendly."

"He's married, Sydney. And so are you."

"And so is his brother, but that didn't stop you from thrusting your b.u.t.t into his man parts on the dance floor."

"Unlike you, I left it on the dance floor."

"Wow. I can't believe you said that." Obviously calling her was the wrong thing to do. I don't know what I was thinking. She would be the last one to remotely understand what I'm going through. Still wasn't expecting her to throw daggers my way.

"What do you want me to say? Aw, how cute. You two would be great together. Is that what you want me to say?" Her voice is full of contempt.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"Good, because I'm not. And I'm not going to sit up here and act like I agree with what you're doing either. It's wrong. Point. Blank."

I can see her pointing her index finger in the air accentuating the point and the blank. "Can you cut me some slack? I've never done anything like this before," I say, feeling more angered than hurt.