Chapter 3

 

Ava

 

. ~ .

 

RAIN – SOMETHING ABOUT it brings purity to the earth, a way of washing away the old, bringing on the new and preparing the world for brighter days. However, as I lie in the center of the bed, entangled in beige covers on this chilly, April night, I see no light at the end of the tunnel. My glass is always half empty.

My pessimistic attitude started when I was a teenager – when I fully understood what the doctors meant when they put an expiration date on my life. Something changed in me – something that I wish I could flip a switch and turn off or hit the reset button, go back to that time and see the bright side of the situation. I would change my attitude and be one of those people who saw the good in everything. Like the type of person who could spill coffee on a new shirt and reason that the shirt wasn’t meant for them and they’d just buy a replacement. I couldn’t be one of those people who, no matter what’s going on in their lives, they always maintained a certain level of appreciation for what they had. What do I have to appreciate? Being sick?

I remember times in my teens when the few friends I did have would invite me to their homes, to the mall, to a movie and I always turned them down. While they were busy talking about boys, shopping for cute school clothes and spending exorbitant amounts of time planning for prom, my childhood was ruined. I neglected to do a lot of things my peers did because I had absolutely no motivation to enjoy my youth.

For one, I didn’t have a boyfriend. Boys didn’t pay much attention to a girl like me and I could care less. I didn’t want the attention. That’s why I made no efforts to fix my hair, wear makeup or dress nice. My entire wardrobe was jeans and plain T-shirts in varying colors. I didn’t giggle when cute boys walked by, or make any attempts at eye contact or flirting. I didn’t want to be bothered.

That attitude spilled over into my school work. I was an ‘A-B’ honor roll student when I thought I was “normal”. However, when I found out my fate, my grades took a nose dive and for the first time in my school life, I was a ‘D’ student. I no longer had the drive other students had to strive for perfect scores so I could land a college acceptance letter. Besides, I wasn’t supposed to live long enough to finish college, so why waste time trying to get there?

Marriage definitely wasn’t in my plans. I was a lost cause – invisible to men and I knew I’d die a virgin with my mom by my side. I lacked motivation to do anything. I didn’t keep myself up. I didn’t do so called girly things – like shave my arms and legs, wear makeup, spend unreasonable amounts of time conditioning and styling my hair, choosing my clothes carefully, painting my nails and getting pedicures. I was just existing, waiting to die. Dying alone is what I wanted. Why did I deserve love when I wouldn’t live a full life? How would that be fair to the poor soul who would fall in love with me? That’s why, when I went to Nassau to experience things, I had no intentions on falling in love and getting married.

So why did I chose Andre?

He asked me out. In my entire life, he was the only man to notice and strike up a conversation with me. I was baffled when he approached me, looking extremely handsome and rugged, wearing nothing but navy blue swim shorts and a bright smile. I remembered the shades he wore, how the sun glistened on his light skin, how his abs were toned and how the sexy bit of chest hair made him so incredibly male. And he was much taller than me – so polite and charming – too good to be true.

I thought his asking me out was just a vacation impulse, like trying some crazy food for the first time just because you know you’re on vacation, and you want to experience new things, make memories and do something different just to say that you’ve done them. When I’d gotten to know him, I realized that nothing about our meeting together was an impulse. It was a deep connection we shared, a connection that neither of us saw coming.

And now, I want a divorce...

 

RAIN PELTS THE roof harder now and I can’t sleep. These thoughts are all running through my head and the thought of giving up on my marriage has knots multiplying in my stomach. Andre is the ideal husband and he’s been good to me. Therein lies the problem – I haven’t been good to him.

I complain a lot. I complain nonstop when we’re together. After all, that is my true personality. However, when we married and moved in together, I tried to force myself to be the woman he expected me to be. The woman who met her prince, moved into his castle and raised his children. The woman who ran to the front door to meet her handsome, hazel-eyed husband when he was home from his successful company.

Instead, I was the woman who questioned why this hazel-eyed millionaire wanted a woman who was dying. It’s a very unsettling feeling to know that the man I’m with deserves someone better than me. That’s the part I couldn’t live with. I know Andre could do better than me, so why did he settle?