My Buddy Archie [3]

83..

WOWOWOWOW

IT'S BEEN A MONTH

AND I AM SO VERY SORRY

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. PLEASE COMMENT/VOTE SO I KNOW I STILL HAVE PEOPLE HANGING ON TO THIS TRAIN WRECK FOR DEAR LIFE.

FUCK.

~~

Two years later

September

"Happy birthday!"

A smile spread over my face as I walked into the kitchen. I'd been told to stay upstairs for 'super-secret' reasons, as Aria put it, for about two hours until Archie yelled up the stairs. "Dad! Come in the kitchen!" And now I was looked at my three kids, all with big smiles on their faces and a cake covered chocolate icing and candles on the table.

My eyes darted over to Connie. Her hip was leaned against the counter, her arms crossed under her chest, and there was a fond smile curving her lips as she looked at the kids. She always had that look in her face when she looked at the kids. Like they were the best thing she ever did with her life. Like she couldn't be prouder that they were just standing there.

Her eyes met min and I almost immediately looked away after giving her a small smile of gratitude. I knew the kids couldn't have done it themselves.

"Cake now?" Zach asked as he clambered into a chair. Aria tried to do the same, but she has yet to master climbing as well as Zach, so Archie lifted her up and placed her in the chair. It was still a bit surreal that Archie was now their loving big brother, when only two years and nine months ago, he actually ran away because of them.

"Yeah, let's have some cake." I sat across from the twin and grabbed the knife that was already on the table.

"We have to light the candles!" Aria protested as best her three year old voice could let her articulate. "Mummy! Put the fire on the candles."

I prepared myself to look at Connie this time. In the split second before I even turned my head to meet her eyes, I had the whole interaction planned out already. I won't avoid eye contact, I'll give her a pleasant smile, and I'll say something witty but short. No chance for anything awkward or uncomfortable.

Because that's what the past two years have been. Awkward and uncomfortable. We don't fight. We weren't necessarily on bad terms...just weird terms. Since she started going to therapy, she'd really got into self-improvement and her new career at the Hampton Hotel. She'd gotten into yoga because she said it was a good substitute to dancing. If I had to compare how she looked the night of our huge fight after I found Wesley in our house, to how she looks now, I'd say it's impossible because their two completely different people. And I wasn't complaining about that aspect at all. I'm glad she was getting back to her old self as well as branching out and doing new things.

What I was complaining about...well not complaining just...noticing was how we haven't gotten back to our old selves. We haven't recovered completely. We worked as a well-oiled machine where the kids were concerned, and we haven't really had a meaningful fight since that one two years ago. But things were still off.

We've talked about our relationship and our marriage a countless amount of times. Whether it was a good idea to stay together, whether we should work it out for the kids, whether there was really anyone to blame for how these nearly fell apart for good. We'd overcome blaming each other. We've overcome all that bad shit that was poisoning our relationship, talked everything out, I've even gone to therapy with her a couple times—and yet, I still felt like there was a wall, between us that we both subconsciously built.