Cimmy’s Notes: As mentioned, this chapter also contains sex. It also mentions rape, drugs and death, so if you can’t deal with that either; scroll down at least half of the page or don’t read it at all.
Some of the events mentioned here has nothing to with Fred’s general personality, I’ve realized. So he’s kinda OOC in this story, yeah. Don’t worry ‘bout it; he’s mostly normal in other stories.
Kristine, prepare yourself for laughter. If you thought the last chapter was funny, this is even worse…
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Chapter 12. Memories from the Past
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Time passes slowly when you’re bouncing off the walls. At least internally. While Catalina is being tired and pretty much dead beat, I’m as usual filled with adrenaline. She knows this, because she’s giving me the most suspicious look ever, unsure if I’m going to throw myself at her without notifying her first.
“What’s with the look?” I wonder, just so I have something to do. Speak is just as good as moving around sometimes. But unfortunately you say too much crap when you’re hyper.
Catalina shrugs. “You’re making me nervous when you’re like this. I told you you’d have to wait,” she whispers against my shoulder, pressing against my body, which drives me crazy in all sorts of ways. “I don’t know if I have the strength to do that one more time.”
“You know, I have to catch my breath too,” I point out, shifting so I can put my hand on her stomach. She moves sideways again, this time I have to catch her so she won’t spin off the bed. “May I ask what the hell you’re doing?”
“I told you, you’re making me nervous,” she murmurs, sliding closer to me. I lean down to kiss her again; my eager lips reveal that I’m not just doing it for pleasure. I’m being a bit too anxious to continue, even though I know she’s tired. I continue where I left off earlier, right before she almost rolled me out of bed, with moving my hand across her body, placing it between her legs.
Catalina’s grip around my arm tightens, as she whimpers slightly. “Fred, I told you...” she starts, but her voice trails off into nothing while I continue letting my fingers explore her lower abdomen, waiting for a respond. I hold on for her usual gasping sound until I let her fall over on her back, so I can accomplish better. I push two fingers into her heat, making her squirm with delight.
As usual, the warm, wet, soft feeling I’m met by, makes my whole body ache for her again. She immediately tenses herself around my fingers, trying to work up some sort of rhythm to get the right result. I keep her steady between myself and the mattress, moving my hand faster as she pleads for more. Her body goes into convulsion, once more her nails bit into my skin.
More frustrations hit me, a sudden longing feeling in my gut makes me draw out my fingers and take my position, pressing against her. I’m just about to slip into the warmth of her insides when she grabs my neck and turns my head towards her. “Use a condom,” she says, just like the last time. Why is she acting like this? I don’t want to get into that argument right now, so I just do as she wants.
I try to be a bit more careful this time, since I know she’s still exhausted from my last treatment, but as soon as I’m starting to move around inside her, I loose my mind. Of course, I could do things much more violent, but what’s the point? I dig my head into her shoulder, kissing her just as roughly as I’m thrusting deeper.
Her face shows an expression of panic, letting me know just how laborious she finds the situation, but she doesn’t complain. If I wasn’t so aroused, I’d be more considerate to her feelings, but I’m just going on. She lets go of my shoulder, letting her fingers trail across my arm until she finds a good spot on the cover to hold on to.
While I keep slamming against her, harder for each moment that passes by, she cringes together under me. She’s surrendering to my treatment, letting me finish in my own pace instead of trying to fight against me. My lips savor her skin, salty from the sweat she’s developing. I’m sweating too, making our bodies stick together between every movement.
She came faster then I thought she would, so I just keep going after she’s done. Hopefully she won’t find it too unbearable. I don’t know where this new feeling of frustration comes from, but it makes me able to achieve a lot more then usually.
More thoughts pop into my mind; I hope they’ll keep me occupied long enough for me to become tired. I try to remember the first time I made love to Catalina. It was so long ago that I forget about it from time to time. I was fifteen, a bit too young according to myself, but I didn’t realize that until I grew older.
She was fourteen, I’m born in January and she’s born in October, but sometimes it feels like a lot more when it comes to the age difference. I even remember the date, because it was the same day as my birthday. So, I guess I was almost fourteen too. If I hadn’t been so young, maybe my first time would’ve been better.
Actually, it wasn’t that bad. Not for me. But I did things too hasty, hurting her in the progress. Excitement was a big problem even back then. My pace had been almost hysterical, the feelings of delight and satisfaction had been too demanding for me. I had asked her if she wanted to stop, when I noticed how much in pain she was, but she had told me to continue, saying that she was okay.
Afterwards, I don’t remember much more then how it felt to lie next to her for the first time. I hadn’t been able to move at once, and when I tried to pull out, she’d winced. When I was finally able to roll away from her, she’d crawled up into my arms, looking for comfort. She’d been crying against my shoulder, her emotions running wild.
We hadn’t said much at all, staying in each others arms, not knowing what to do. She had been the first one to open her mouth, saying something like; “So, we’ve finally done it.” It had made me smile, but not enough to keep me from feeling uncomfortable. I had asked her if it had hurt, and first she told me no. Then she admitted that it had hurt a lot, but she never complained, not even back then. Now when I think about it, I must’ve hurt her terribly, by the way I did things.
It wasn’t until later – the next morning or something – that I had realized that I’d been so rough with her that I’d made her bleed. She told me that it was normal, but I still felt bad about it, remembering how I’d forced myself into her even though I’d felt resistance.
We didn’t have sex for a while after that first time. The second time, I tried to make up for the mistakes I did the first time, but she had still been in pain. I guess we didn’t really get used to the situation until the fourth or fifth time we slept together. Then I became too overwhelmed with the thought of what we were doing, so I pushed her into doing some things I’m not sure she would’ve done otherwise.
Of course that didn’t stop me from pushing the limits even further. Even though I know I hurt her several times, she still let me do those things to her over and over again, until she got used to the feeling. I even made her cry from time to time, but she was stubborn enough to urge me to continue. I would never do anything like that if it had been today, not even if she told me that it’s okay. I was stupid when I was younger. I was drinking a lot, and I treated her like shit.
Remembering those days makes me happy that I’ve changed. At least enough to know when to not keep going when she’s saying no. I’m ashamed that I actually forced her to have sex with me, not just one, but several times while I was drunk. How she ever forgave me for that is still a mystery to me. Technically, I raped her, but she refuses to let me use that word. Even though it’s accurate for what I did.
When I realized what I had been doing to her those times, after I was kicked into rehab by my Dad and my coaches on the hockey team, I threw up with disgust. I felt even worse when she supported me through the rehab, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d left me and never spoken to me again.
I was seventeen when I had to face my drinking problems for real. After I pulled myself together, mostly for her, our relationship got better. I felt so bad about my deeds that I kept doing everything for her, even the smallest things. I think I’m still doing that in some levels. I can never repay her for the pain I caused her. I just can’t.
I swallow hard, trying to forget about these thoughts. Catalina rubs my arm, making me snap out of my daze. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. I was just... You wanna stop?” I mumble, pressing against her to feel her trembling body next to mine. I have to kiss her so I know that she’s here for real. My passionate kiss makes her raise her eyebrows, since it’s so far off the mode I was using just a minute ago.
“No, I’m fine. You look less fine, maybe you should calm down?” she suggests, tugging my shoulders to bring me closer. I lay my head down on the pillow, still feeling her quiver when I slow down my movement. Catalina inhales a huge breath of air, slipping her fingers through my hair.
Quite honestly, I could go for a third time. Maybe because I’m so alert that I can’t even focus my eyes correctly. She’s still gasping for air when I wrap my arm around her waist and dip her over to the other side of the bed. “Do you want to do it again?” I ask, not waiting for an answer before I advance to second base. She whines, surprised that I’m not as tired as I should be. It must be those hormones again. They’ve done a lot for me since I went into puberty.
“Wait,” she murmurs. Yes, I know, the damn condom. “Could you slow down? What’s with you today?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. She wipes some sweat away from my face, before adjusting under me, pressing her knees into my stomach so she can roll me over. I loose my breath, watching as she sits up and pins my arms to the mattress. “What?”
“You’re acting weird,” she explains.
“No, you’re the one acting weird.”
Catalina rolls her eyes, not amused at my comeback. Somehow I manage to get her to move, so I can enter her in this position instead. She lowers her head, leaning against my face, her lips leaving occasional kisses along my jaw bone. Her breath starts to become labored again, while she sinks down over me, letting me slip deeper.
So, while I’m leaning back against the pillow, trying to keep myself from spinning her back to the ‘right’ position, I realize that this is probably the most time we’ve spent with each other for months. We haven’t had this much sex for ages, as we’ve had this week. Maybe I should feel some gratitude?
No, I can’t stay like this. I can’t remember the last time we spent a whole night, making love. We should do this more often, far more often. I tear her away from her precious position – she must have a thing about being on top this week – deciding to let her receive some more of my frustrations.
The effort is finally making my head spin, so when we’re done, or I’m done; she was out before I even begun, I stay in her arms for a while. She’s breathing a lot more regular now, I think she’s sleeping. I just have to kiss her once more, and of course this makes her move.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I wonder. She opens one eye and peaks at me. Then she makes herself comfortable, her head resting on my chest.
“Nah, I’ll survive.”
I’m happy that she’s awake; because that means that I’m not alone with my weird thoughts. Catalina nuzzles her face against my throat, giving up a soft sighing noise. “Are you done showing off?” she asks.
“What?”
“You’re not wishing for a fourth time, do you?” she continues, laughing silently. “I don’t know what’s up with you tonight. You’ve never been this eager before, and even if you’ve been, you haven’t been able to perform.”
“Gee, thanks. Now I lack in that department too?” I mumble, letting my fingers drum against her back. She’s still sweaty, her muscles tense. When I look down at her, I realize that she’s more awake then I thought. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping after all?
Catalina sighs again, sounding content and not so breathless. “Could we just stay like this for a while?” she begs. I nod, knowing she’s right. We haven’t really had any alone time at all lately. I always leave before she wakes up, and we never have time for each other. I tilt my head and slide down a bit, so I can face her. “You wanna talk?” she smiles.
“Yeah,” I reply, brushing a string of hair away from her face.
Catalina suddenly giggles. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not thinking about Cathy MacCallister, are you?”
I give her a surprised smile, snorting. “Why the hell would I think about her? I just slept with you.”
“This isn’t high school,” she points out. “You can admit that she’s pretty.”
“She’s not pretty,” I state.
This time, Catalina is the one snorting. “Oh, come on! You don’t have to lie; I know you’re attracted to her. She’s got that natural beauty thing going on. Very annoying.”
“Cut it out,” I growl. “I’m not attracted to her. And she wasn’t looking all that beautiful this morning, being hung over.”
“Doesn’t matter. Did you see how perfect she looked? With that blonde hair, perfect figure, and hey, did you see her nose?” Catalina raises her eyebrows, making me laugh.
“You’re just as perfect. And your nose is fine,” I point out, moving my hand over her face. “It’s not bought in some store.”
“Maybe I should fix it,” Catalina ponders, lost in her own little world. “Would you give me the money?”
I know she’s just kidding, so I shrug. “Whatever would make you more beautiful, honey.” She slaps my arm, gasping. Then she rubs her nose a little. I don’t know why she has such a bad confidence about her nose. Okay, so it’s not the most perfect nose, but I like it.
“Her dad probably paid for the whole nine yards,” Catalina says, still not letting the subject go. I thought she was tired? “Her breasts probably aren’t real.”
“No?”
“Well, I don’t know. I just assume. But she’s probably just that perfect naturally. Wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe you should go find out.”
“Very funny. I rather not know if Cathy’s breasts are real or not.”
Catalina laughs, lifting her head from my shoulder. “I bet your friend Robert knows. I think he’s trying to seduce me. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“For you, maybe,” I snort. “His wife might disagree.”
“He kissed my hand.”
“Yeah.”
“That was sort of disgusting,” she grins.
I nod, rolling my eyes. “Could we stay off the subject of my job?”
“If you admit that Cathy is pretty,” my wife keeps going.
“She reminds me of Jen,” I say for no reason. It just downed on me.
“Jenny Porter? Yeah, they are looking quite similar. But I don’t know either of them very well. What was she like?”
Why did I bring this subject up? I just can’t keep my mouth shut, can I? “Jen? Well, she was the average girlfriend, I guess.” Catalina has never asked about Jen before, so this question freaks me out. “Annoying, stupid and she had a horrible sense of humor.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“I haven’t seen her since that time, you know, when she was...”
“Pissed?” Catalina smiles, finishing my sentence. Jen was quite the evil bitch when we went out; I only stayed with her because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But then I had sex with Catalina, and of course Jen found out. She was furious and almost slapped me unconscious. Catalina was also there to witness the whole thing, and I think she found it pretty amusing.
“Yep.”
“I wonder what she’s doing now,” she mumbles.
“I rather not think about that. She’s probably married to some loser, forcing him to get her pregnant every other year.”
“You think she has children?” Catalina asks.
How the hell should I know? “Maybe. But who doesn’t?”
“Do you want anymore children?” she questions me. I knew we’d end up here, I just knew it.
I shake my head, sighing. “Of course not.” My hand slips around her waist, and she squeals quietly. “What? Did I hurt you? You’re not...” Oh, shut up you stupid fuck.
“You were going to ask if I was pregnant, weren’t you?” Catalina sighs. “Why do you keep asking that when you know the answer?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Forgive me?”
“Yeah, of course. I was just wondering...”
One of my latest thoughts pop into my brain, and before I can smother it with my tongue, the question slips out over my lips. “If you can’t get pregnant anyway, why do you keep telling me to use a condom?”
She doesn’t answer, so I assume it’s something she doesn’t want to talk about. But then she suddenly replies after minutes of silence. “I feel safer that way. I’m afraid that I will eventually end up pregnant, and I don’t want that. I don’t want any more children.”
“Neither do I!”
“You wanted a daughter,” she says, her voice low. “And I can’t give you one.”
“I never said I wanted one,” I disagree. “I said that I thought it was going to be a girl, that’s not the same thing. I don’t want anyone else but Bailey.”
“Aren’t you tired of this?” she asks me, sounding sad. “I’m tired. I’m tired of having to worry about being pregnant, even though I can’t have anymore children.”
“So, we could use some sort of protection. Like we did tonight, if it makes you feel better.”
“You’d voluntarily use a condom every time we have sex?” she snorts, totally missing my point.
“No, although, I think I’m starting to get used to them again. I meant like birth-control pills or something.”
“You know that they make me feel weird,” she mumbles. Yes, I guess she’s right. She didn’t feel that well while using them after Bailey was born. “And I’ve always hated the thought of using a diaphragm. That just doesn’t sound very nice in my ears.”
“Well, I guess there’s only vasectomy left then,” I point out, giving her a tired look. “But don’t trick me into sterilizing myself.”
Catalina shifts her position, looking up at me with a strange expression in her eyes. “Or, I could do it.”
“Yeah, right,” I snort again, growing tired of the whole conversation. She doesn’t look like she’s kidding, which is bothering me. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Actually, I am. I told you I was tired of this. Of being in pain for no reason and fear that I’ll get pregnant.”
Now she’s scaring me. “You know I would never let you do that!” I exclaim. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow you to do that! Forget it!”
“You’re only thinking about yourself! What about me? You think it’s easy for me to know that you want more children, when I can’t fucking give you any?” she explodes, totally out of the blue. I put my arms around her, hugging her tight. “You don’t understand how it feels. I just don’t wanna be in pain all the time!”
There’s much I don’t understand about this fucked up world, but I do know one thing. I love my wife more then anything, and I wouldn’t want her to suffer at all. “It wouldn’t make you any better,” I tell her, kissing her hair.
“Sorry, but I’m just sick of it. I’m afraid that one day, you won’t be there when something happens, and Bailey has to see me in that sort of pain. That’s my worst nightmare.”
“You’d make it, I know you would,” I assure her, even though I doubt about that.
“Don’t try to make me feel better,” she sniffles. “Those random cramps are really serious; you know I wouldn’t even be able to move. What if Bailey is the only one home if that happens?”
“Don’t worry about it, it hasn’t happened yet.”
Catalina continues to sob, clearly very upset about this. “I just think it’d make things better.”
“You’re not sterilizing yourself,” I mutter. “You’re twenty-one; I won’t have you do that. Forget it.”
She takes a deep breath, gathering herself together. “You want a daughter, don’t you?”
“No, it didn’t matter to me. I just thought that if we had a daughter, it’d be sort of nice if she looked like you, because you’re the most beautiful girl I know.”
Catalina smiles through her tears. “You don’t have to suck up, I won’t yell anymore. Maybe we can adopt.”
“I told you I don’t want anymore children. Why would we want to adopt?”
“Hey, I’m adopted!” she points out, like I’m not already aware of that. “We could adopt a girl, maybe someone who has your features.”
“If we’re going to adopt, which we are definitely not, I’d rather adopt a girl from the country you’re from. That’d be nice,” I say. “But we’re not, so don’t pester me about it.”
“Why? You clearly want another child, and...”
“Let it go!” I demand, rubbing my eyes. “There isn’t going to be any adoptions, or sterilizations of any kind. Drop it.”
“Why?” she repeats. “What’s the big deal, I can’t have any children anyway, so I’m the one responsible for the family failures. When it comes to the children, anyway.”
Now she’s beginning to annoy me. Since when did she consider the lack of children to be the end of the world? Back in high school, she refused to have any children at all. Not that I was dying to produce bunches of them, but I at least pictured myself with one child. Which I now have, so I’m content. I am, despite what she thinks.
“You know what the result would be if you actually sterilized yourself,” I ask, knowing that she’s going to nod. She’s probably looked into this while I’m off working all day long. She really has too much spare time on her hands.
“It wouldn’t matter.”
“You’re not a failure, just because you can’t have children. You don’t even want anymore kids, so why do you keep pushing?” I try to talk some sense into her.
“It feels like my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Blame those imbecile doctors, who couldn’t give you the right treatment. Or the delivery people who kept urging for you to give a natural birth. Blame anyone but yourself, because it’s not your fault. It’s not my fault either, and it’s not Bailey’s fault. It was just an accident, shit happens.”
“Bad shit,” she whispers.
That day keeps flashing before my eyes. I’ve never blamed my wife for the fact that she can’t have anymore children. I would never do that. Instead, I mostly blame myself for not taking care of her better during the pregnancy, and for not standing up for myself when the doctors told me that it was going to work out fine, even though I was doubtful. She could’ve died, thanks to them. Thanks to their thoughtless decision.
What would I do without her? I’d be nothing at all. If she dies, my whole world would fall apart. She’s the only one who listens to me, talks to me, helps me out. Catalina is all I have, and without her, I’d be lost. It’s a cliche, but that’s how I feel.
“I love you,” I mumble, pulling her closer. I hide my face into her neck, feeling the tears leak from my eyes.
Catalina pushes me away, giving me a look of concern. “Fred, is everything alright?” she says worriedly. I’m usually the strong one, and I know I’m scaring her when I fall apart like this.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. “It’s been a rough week. I haven’t been feeling all that well lately.”
“I know,” she soothes, using the same voice as when Bailey’s crying over something. “It’ll get better.”
I gasp for air, feeling my emotions run over completely. “It’s just that... It’s been a tough time, for all of us. I wish I could do something about it. My work makes me stressed and I’m neglecting you. I just feel bad, all the time. I can’t stand it for much longer; I’ll break down if this continues.”
Catalina listens while I rant away, holding my face with her hands. “You should ask for some time off,” she mumbles to me when I finally stop. “Be home for a while, spend time with us. I know you’re not feeling well, but you refuse to let me help you.”
“This is not your problem,” I say, more collected. “I can’t ask of you to solve my fucking problems.”
“You don’t have to play the hero,” she points out. “It’d be nice if you stopped being so strong, and just allowed me help you out. I love you, Fred.”
Even though she has a point, I know I won’t be able to do that. It’s my responsibility to make sure that my family is alright, not hers. She’s got too much on her hands anyway, with Bailey and everything.
“It’s just difficult, that’s all,” I explain. “It’s hard, but it’s not impossible. Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine.”
My sniffling could be what makes my speech pure bullshit. I’m used to making speeches, but not when they concern my family. I’ve never lied to her since we got married, why start now?
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say. “We haven’t really talked lately, not like this.”
“Thank your dad,” she suggests, laughing when I make a face. “He was the one who ordered me to come down here. He was actually not sounding all that mad when he called, like he usually sounds when he talks to me. Maybe he thought you deserved a reward?”
“Doubtful,” I mutter. “You know my Dad. He would never do anything to my advantage. He just wanted to avoid publicity in case I showed up with anyone else but you on that dinner.”
Catalina bites her lip. “He sounded sincere. But he was talking with his stern voice, you know. He told me to get to Seattle, represent you and the company by wearing something they would approve of to the dinner, not do anything that would give the reporters a chance to rip us apart, and make sure that you behaved in public.”
Sounds like my Dad, alright. “That’s all?”
“Oh, he told me that the confirmation was going to be faxed to me, and then he hung up before I could object or say anything. I pretty much just contributed to the conversation with ‘hello’. Which made him sound grumpy.”
“No time to bitch back?” I ask, smiling. “Yes, I know about that tactic.”
“Well, I couldn’t do anything more then to try and get a baby-sitter for Bailey, and leave. Your Dad doesn’t ask me for many favors.”
“Don’t obey his orders. And why did you have to choose Mikey?” I moan, reminding myself that we should hire a nanny.
“He’s the only one I know! He’s free, and he’s trustable. You trust him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think his influence on our son is the best. He was a gang member!”
Catalina laughs. “No, he wasn’t! It’s not like he was violent and went around shooting people! I was in his so-called ‘gang’ too, you know. All the crimes we ever did were shop-lifting and stealing apples from the market,” she giggles.
“He was using drugs,” I point out, my voice serious. She must know that I’m feeling concerned when she leaves my only child with a former drug-addict!
“And thanks to you, he’s not anymore,” Catalina points out. “That was years ago, and he’s got a job now. He’s grown-up! Who didn’t do fucked up things when they were younger? Are you perfect, maybe?”
“No...”
“Doesn’t it sound better with a baby-sitter who’s a former drug-addict, then a parent who used to be an alcoholic?” she goes on, making me growl. “And may I remind you that I’m not that innocent either?”
“Sure, I know we both did a lot of crazy things in high school. Bailey really should be more messed up then he is, considering the genes he has. It runs in the family, you know.”
“What does?”
“Alcoholism.”
“Don’t be stupid, Fred. Bailey’s not going to be an alcoholic anymore then he’ll be a drug user,” she shakes her head. My main reason for not telling her about the Prozac is that she used take pain-killers back in high school, during her depressed streak. I think it was at the same time as I started to become violent, so that’s pretty much my fault too.
“I’m not stupid,” I say automatically. “I’m just so Goddamn tired. And I know Mikey is a decent guy, I never would’ve helped him if I thought otherwise. And it was a long time ago. I just miss Bailey. A lot, all the time. I fear that he’ll grow up, resenting me for not being there for him when he needed it.”
Catalina tilts her head to the side, looking like she’s going to cry. “Of course he won’t! He loves you more then anything. You should see the look on his face when he talks about you. He’s never as happy as when he’s spending time with you. You’re his Dad, he adores you.”
My eyes begin to well up again, even though I try to fight back the tears. “How can he do that, when I don’t have time for him? You’re the parent. I’m just an absent father.”
“That’s not true! Sure, I spend more time with him, but that doesn’t mean a lot. We watch TV, play some game, do some puzzles or draw some paintings. You should see my latest master piece by the way, I had to hang it up on the fridge!” she exclaims, trying to make me smile. She succeeds, as always.
“I’d love to do all that with him, but I keep letting him down.”
“No, you don’t. You know, before I left, he went on about all the things you’d promised to do with him when you got back. He was really excited about going to the park, getting ice cream, and he kept mentioning some cool trip. He knows that you keep your promises. When you say that you’re going to do something, you do it. I love that about you. You never let us down.”
“He said that?” I whisper.
“Yeah, because he knows you’ll do it. He trusts you, and he loves you more then anything.”
“When we get back, I should take some time off. Just like you said. And then I’ll take him to all those things. You can come too.”
“Cheers,” she smiles.
So, my son loves me after all? Isn’t that nice? But I have a feeling that’ll change if I don’t get a grip and become a better father. Sure, I keep my promises, but what’s the point in that, if I never make any promises I can keep?
This got a bit too emotional for me. I hate crying in front of my wife, and now I feel dumber then usual. The situation craves for something to break the tension with, so we make love again. Not like before, but much softer, sweeter. It suits the mood better.
We should talk like this more often. We should spend more nights like these together. We should do a lot of things. But we are trapped in some pattern, and I have to get us out of here before we both go under.