Just Love Me

Chapter 2: Every Morning

Chapter 2

"And I'm so tired of you pacifying me / With promises you know that you'll never keep." Vivian Greene - Emotional Rollercoaster

- 4 ½ years later -

I woke up at the same time every morning. My internal alarm clock forced my body from its restful state at 6am. Every morning, I woke up to my husband's gorgeous face and every morning, I scooted closer in the bed to kiss him. I used to kiss his lips but in recent months it was usually a light kiss to the forehead before I got up.

       Leaving the bedroom, I entered one of our guestrooms that we turned into a makeshift gym. It only had an exercise ball, treadmill, and exercise bike. We also had a flat screen TV mounted on the wall for the occasions when I popped in my yoga DVDs or he did one of his P90X videos.

I usually chose the exercise bike but I felt like running today, in more ways than one. I started to jog and tried to think of anything other than reality. I didn't used to workout alone; my morning routine used to include my husband. I would kiss his lips and he would stir before opening his eyes and smiling at me. We would come into this room and do a couple of stretches together before forgetting the workout and end up naked, sweaty and intimately connected on the floor. Only to get up laugh and take a shower that would mean more touching and kissing.

I miss those times.

I miss the way my marriage was in the beginning.

Ever since my husband's promotion to senior financial analyst at Bank Of America- a boost he received when he got his MBA- I saw him less and less. I couldn't have predicted life this way, the late nights, frequent arguments and lack of sex. I never saw it coming. When he was first promoted, I was fresh out of college, he was excited about his advance and I thought everything could only get better.

At first everything was fine. We went house shopping, we moved from our apartment in Massachusetts to this beautiful house in Connecticut. But one "important job thing" became two, then three then me making dinners that went untouched and falling asleep alone. All. The. Time.

We celebrated our third wedding anniversary two weeks ago. Well I celebrated with a bottle of wine alone, while he worked.

45 minutes passed so I gradually decreased my speed until I was eventually just walking. I wiped the sweat off my face with my palm. The salty warm sweat that began to pour from my eyes in the middle of my workout. That sweat, the kind that comes with heartache and a whole lot of loneliness.

I walked back into the master bedroom, bypassing my still sleeping husband, and went to the adjoined bathroom. I turned on the shower and stripped out of my damp t-shirt and panties. Every morning I secretly wished my husband would come in the bathroom, see me standing there naked brushing my teeth and be so turned on we'd have steamy shower sex like the old days. But today like always, I completed my hygiene routine alone.

Afterwards, I walked down our curved staircase that lined the wall, through our spacious living room and dining room adorned with expensive high quality furniture into our state of the art kitchen with stainless steel appliances and large island that produced what the realtor called, "a phenomenal amount of cooking space."

This is a beautiful house but it doesn't mean shit when I'm by myself.

I got some eggs and bacon out the refrigerator and a skillet from a cabinet next to the stove. I cracked the eggs directly into the large skillet and fried 3 pieces of bacon on the side. A trick I've watched my mama do a thousand times when she made breakfast for my daddy before he went to work. I turned on the Keurig, letting it heat up then put two slices of bread in the toaster careful to move quickly so I'm not away from the stove to long. I glanced at the clock that read 7:30am.

My lovely husband was probably stumbling out of bed now.

Finishing up, I placed the eggs and bacon on a plate then put jelly on the toast. I watched the coffee machine as it brewed out a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee directly into a to-go cup. I didn't bother putting his coffee in a mug anymore.

I put his breakfast and coffee on the island counter in front of a stool then poured myself a tall glass of orange juice.

Then I waited like I did every morning.

7:45am. I heard him rushing down the stairs and running through the house. He hurried in the kitchen with his cell phone, briefcase and suit jacket in one arm. He grabbed both pieces of toast, a strip of bacon and his coffee, mumbled a, "Thanks babe," then rushed out the door.

I sat and finished what was left of his breakfast. I never had to cook for myself because he rushed out of here every morning. I had just scooped some eggs into my mouth when the house phone rang. I quickly chewed and swallowed what was in my mouth before making my way over to the cordless phone in the corner of the kitchen counter.

"Hello?"

"I know Sweets, I know. I'm sorry," Rick repeated the same apology I heard every morning.

I rolled my eyes and grunted, "mhm."

"Come on, I'm sorry. I really am. I'll be home for dinner tonight; you won't even have to cook. I'll pick up some take-out before I come home. It will be you and me tonight. Okay baby?"

"Alright," was the only thing I said because I'd heard this all before.

"I have to go 'cause I'm driving. I love you."

"Do you?"

"Brielle," he groaned. "Yes I do. I love you so much." He blew a kiss into the phone, something that used to make me smile. "I'll see you tonight. I promise." He ended the call and I placed the cordless on the base.

I knew better than to hold my breath about dinner.