The house was empty, like her heart. Vacant, as though no one lived there. As Olivia lay in bed that night, her father’s words echoed through her mind. Maybe it’s time to forgive, Lamb. She wanted to forgive her mother—and her husband—more than anything, but she didn’t know how to without putting everything on the line, without risking even further damage to a heart that already bore more treads than a racetrack.
Jonathan had begun coming home later and later, and as he crept down the hallway toward the bedroom they used to share, she wondered if he’d been working or if he’d been with her, and all thoughts of forgiveness were banished from her mind.
Lying on her side, she peered through the darkness at the crack of light under the door. As the footsteps halted outside her door, she drew in a breath and held it. When they continued on, a fresh wave of grief washed through her. What had she expected? She hadn’t given him any reason to hope, yet she felt the sting of disappointment as if she’d just been slapped.
As she’d done every morning since she lost her job, Olivia continued to get up at the usual time, followed her normal routine as though she were going to work, and then lingered just long enough for Jonathan to leave before she changed clothes and settled into her new routine of shopping, cleaning, watching soap operas, and cooking.
On the Monday following the egg retrieval, Olivia woke early, showered and dressed quietly in the guest bathroom, and tiptoed down to the kitchen to make coffee. Today was the day the fertilized eggs would be implanted, and because she and Jonathan hadn’t spoken in almost a week, she planned to go alone.
The kitchen was dark, and when she flipped the light switch, she nearly flew out of her skin when she saw her husband—dressed in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt—sitting at the breakfast nook.
“Oh, Christ, Jonathan, what the hell are you doing slinking around the house so early?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” he said. “Were you planning on going without me today?”
“I, no, I was just...oh hell, I don’t know what I was doing. I guess I thought you wouldn’t...I mean, you haven’t said a word—”
He rose from his seat. “I’m trying to give you space, Olivia. Trying to give you what you asked for. But I told you that I still love you, and I still want this.” He took a small step toward her.
This time Olivia did not back away.
“I want you, and I want a family. Our family.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut as tears coursed down her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved and she felt Jonathan’s strong arms go around her. He pulled her close, closer, until she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear, sweet life.
I had an affair, Liv.
She bolted upright, her body rigid, and freed herself from his embrace. As good as his arms had felt around her, she was not ready to forgive him.
She looked down at her perfectly pedicured feet and offered an apology. “I’m sorry, I’m just not ready.”
When he didn’t respond, she looked up and into green pools that reflected her own sadness. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I understand.” A half-smile tugged at his mouth and he pointed to the coffee pot. “I made decaf. Can I pour you a cup?”
They drove together in silence, and when Jonathan placed his hand on her knee in the waiting room, she did not object. He turned his back while she undressed and slipped into the paper gown, and as the doctor began the embryo transfer, she reached for him.
“I’m right here,” he whispered. He took her hand in both of his. “I’ll always be right here.”
Olivia pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. She tried not to think about how good it had felt to be in Jonathan’s arms that morning, or how right it had felt to have him there beside her as the doctor placed the embryos that, God willing, would take root and grow inside her. But after she’d tossed and turned for hours, she gave up the fight.
She padded down the hall; she quietly turned the handle on the door and pushed it open, surprised to find Jonathan sitting up in bed reading. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. She gripped the handle and looked at him from across the room.
After a long beat, he finally broke the silence. “Hi.”
“Why did you do it?”
He shifted his gaze from her down to his book. “I...I don’t know.”
Olivia stomped across to his side of the room, snatched the book from his grasp and launched it against the wall. “Not an acceptable answer. Try again. Why did you do it?”
He stared at her, mouth agape. “Because I could,” he said finally.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together. She stood over him, hands clenched at her sides. “Excuse me? What the hell does that mean?”
Jonathan swung his long legs over the side of the bed and pushed past her. He strode across the room and Olivia followed on his heels.
When he turned to face her, she stood only inches from him, her face set and determined, her cheeks burning with anger. He took a step back and Olivia stepped forward, determined to learn the truth. “Answer me, damn you!”
Jonathan threw his arms up in the air. “Okay, Jesus, Olivia! You want the truth? Here it is. Ever since we lost Bethie, you’ve been...different. You’ve always been a little bit controlling, but since we lost our daughter you’ve been...how shall I put this...out of control. You tell me what to do, when to be home, you even lay out my clothes for me. We do what you want to do, we have sex when you decide you want it, and I’m not allowed to talk about Bethie. Or even mention her name. And I’m not allowed to talk about my feelings. My needs never seem to matter. It’s always about you. Only you. I slept with that woman because it was the one thing in my life that you couldn’t control.”
His admission struck her like a bolt of lightning. She staggered backward until she hit the wall and slid to the floor. Jonathan moved toward her in slow motion. His mouth moved but the rush of blood through her body whooshed too loudly in her ears. He lifted her to her feet and pulled her into his arms, where she hung like a rag doll.
His words had sliced through her, cut her to ribbons, destroyed her.
But he was dead right.