Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
It makes me physically sick to imagine having sex with Mike now that he’s been with another woman, but I’m sure that’s something I could work through. And I’m positive it has a lot to do with the fact that I gave him my virginity. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with, so the thought of my husband being with some other woman has a tinge of… jealousy? I don’t know. I’m not jealous of the other woman. I’m more jealous of the fact that he’s gotten to experience someone else when I never have. I mean, he was by no means a virgin when we got together, but… as far as I knew, it was only me for ten years. Those other girls before we met didn’t matter. But now? It’s fucking unfair that he got to have this tryst, when I can’t even remember the last time I had sex. And much less, the last time I had an orgasm. Because God knows that didn’t happen every time we did have sex… whenever the hell that was.
But it’s a silly notion anyway—being jealous, I mean. Once I had Ruby, I lost a lot if not all of my libido. It certainly didn’t help that Mike isn’t the most affectionate man on the planet to begin with, but once I had our third baby, I didn’t really want to be touched. I had our three-year-old twins, Lola and Kate, crawling all over me day in and day out, and then add a newborn, and by the time night fell, I was absolutely done being physically touched. You stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine. I wanted to sprawl and just be left the hell alone, and then I’d pass out within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.
During the times we did eventually have sex, it was 100 percent a chore. Zero passion. Zero even want to be doing it, but feeling almost… obligated. Our anniversary, maybe a birthday—his, of course. For mine, I just wanted to be left alone.
So yeah, I can see how the affair could happen. But that’s not an excuse, and I shouldn’t be the one solely blamed. He could’ve said something. We could’ve gotten counseling. I mean, they have sex therapists for a reason, right? Either way, it should’ve been something we fixed within our marriage, not sought comfort outside of it. It’s something that should’ve been worked on between husband and wife. Our partner in life and in all things.
But if I’m being honest, it’s been a long damn time since I felt like Mike and I were on the same team. If ever. It’s always been more like he was the whole team and I was just the water girl. It’s never been fifty-fifty. He’s never seen me as his equal, and in turn, it’s always made me feel less than.
I snap myself out of my thoughts and look down at the phone in my hand, my finger hovering over my sister’s contact information. I haven’t spoken a single word to anyone about what happened last week. I don’t really have girlfriends. I’ve always been too busy at home to go out and find any. And I don’t know if I give off some bitchy vibe or what, but any time I tried joining those mom groups, the other women tended to avoid me, and I’m not the biggest social butterfly in all the land—preferring the company of my children to adults—so that was a really quick pass in my book.
I take a deep breath and touch her name and then her number, and as it begins to ring, I blow out the air in my lungs and lift the phone to my ear.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, big sis!”
For the first time in a week, my smile isn’t reserved only for my babies. The expression feels almost foreign. “Mia, how are you?”
“Can’t complain. You okay? You sound a little down,” she tells me, and I shake my head. Only Mia would be able to sense something I’m so desperately trying to hide from my voice. Sister intuition, I guess.
“I…” I swallow, but suddenly there’s a thick lump inside my throat that swells until I’m choking. My eyes prickle with tears I thought I had surely ran out of, and my chest burns when I can’t take a deep enough breath.
“Cece, what’s the matter? Are the girls okay?” Mia’s voice is full of worry now, and I hate that I’ve put it there.
And then it all comes out in a rush of sobs. “The girls are fine, at school. I kicked him out, Mia. He cheated on me, and I kicked him out. And I don’t know what to do. I can’t do all this by myself. I need to put the girls in childcare after school, but the childcare would cost just as much as I’d be able to make, and so what’s the point? What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to do anything besides be a mom and a housewife. I’ve been a homemaker for ten years. How am I supposed to find a job when I’m almost thirty and have no past work history? And I need you. I don’t have anyone else. I need you to come help me for just a few weeks. Just a few weeks until I can get my life in somewhat of an order, because as it is, I can’t. I just can’t do it without someone’s help, and you’re all I’ve got. So please, please come help me. I need you.”