He laughs. “So you’ve noticed? It’s a bad habit of mine. I’ve tried stopping, but I think I just like getting my hair pulled too much. Especially in the bedroom, ya know?”
“Well, no. I didn’t know, and I don’t think I needed to know.”
“You never know, Dimples…one day that information may come handy to you,” he taunts.
“Ha, ha…as if. You forget, I’m happily married.”
“Too happily married for some wild f**king with a hot stud like me? You know, I’ve been called God in the bedroom more than a few times,” he jokes, his eyes gleaming devilishly.
I smile. “Modest much? By the way, I can’t believe you just called yourself a hot stud. I’m pretty sure that negates how good looking you are.”
Arsen grins, making his eyes crinkle. “What? Didn’t you know? I’m too hot for my body.”
“Are you ever serious or modest?” I say with laughter in my voice.
“Nah. Modesty and I don’t get along, baby. I tell it how it is.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Laughing, we both stare at each other, then slowly become silent. The silence makes me uncomfortable, so I look at the time on my watch. Arsen looks at his phone one more time. I feel like I need to break the silence.
“Should we order?”
Arsen nods and calls the waitress over. After she leaves with our orders, Arsen turns to look at me.
“Okay, I have an idea. While we wait for our food to arrive, let’s play a game.”
“Um, I’m not sure. The look on your face is making me uncomfortable.”
“Come on! It’ll be fun, and since you’re stuck working with me, it will helps us get know each other better.”
“Okay, fine. Tell me. I’m not promising anything, though.”
With a smug smile on his face, like he just won the Nobel Prize, he says, “Why don’t we reveal three things about ourselves to each other?”
Not seeing any harm in it, I agree to play his little game. Besides, I’m curious about him.
“Okay, you start. I need to see what kind of secrets you’re willing to divulge first.”
“I have a butterfly tattoo on my chest,” Arsen says.
“I’ve seen it! I’ve meant to ask you about it for the longest time.”
Arsen nods, smiling shyly. “When I was seventeen my friends and I went to Cancun for spring break. Needless to say, we ended up at a strip club where we got so f**ked up. By the end of the night, I thought I was in love with a stripper named Butterfly, so as soon as the place closed down,” he pauses, grinning, “she came with me to get this tattoo. And in my drunken state, I guess I wanted it tattooed over my heart.” His eyes sparkle with mirth.
“Why don’t you have it removed?” I ask.
“Nah. It’s part of me. Besides, Butterfly showed me some very good times,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Well, I’m glad. Okay. My turn.” I blush because it’s quite embarrassing. “I don’t really know how to ride a bicycle.”
“What? No way!” He seems truly surprised.
“Yes, I never really learned. Ben tried teaching me a couple times, but I never got the gist of it,” I say, remembering Julian’s weekend party.
“You don’t have to blush like that if you don’t know how to ride a bicycle.” He grins crookedly before continuing, “I feel bad for your man, though.”
I reach and smack him on the shoulder. “Hey!”
Arsen raises his hands in surrender as he laughs. “Hey! You left that one wide open. But I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” He lowers his hands and takes a sip of water, “Ready for my second revelation?”
“Sure.”
I notice some color growing on the crests of his cheeks, which accentuates his aqua blue eyes.
“I wanted to have my own band when I grew up, but I f**king suck. It’s embarrassing.”
“No, I don’t think it’s embarrassing. It’s great! Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Maybe…nah. It’s just something I would’ve liked to do.” Obviously uncomfortable talking about himself, he changes the subject. “Your turn.”
For a moment, I stare at him blushing and decide to tell him my deepest secrets. I don’t know what makes me want to do it, but I do.
There’s an easiness about him that makes me want to trust him.
“Um, I have two. I’m pregnant. But don’t. Don’t congratulate me yet.”
A shadow crosses his eyes, but it’s gone before I have a chance to ask him about it.
“Go ahead. I’m listening,” he encourages me.
Surprised at his willingness to listen, I can’t help but remember the last time I tried speaking to Ben about it a long time ago and how different his reaction was. It’s like they are night and day.
Reclining against a tree with Ben’s arms wrapped around me, and the smell of late autumn in our local park surrounding us, I feel such yearning as I watch children chasing geese and playing with fallen leaves. They’re so beautiful to admire, yet it hurts to even listen to them laugh. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to being around them without having to fight the emptiness I carry to take over me completely.
I hope so. I really do.
Ben always tells me that happiness is what you make of your life, but I wonder what happens when your heart’s desire keeps being taken away from you over and over again?
Truly. What happens then?
I’m still trying to figure it out.
I admire the lovely children playing and think back to the beginning of the end, to that day when some vital part of me decided it was too much to keep hoping and dreaming. It was the day that hope kept slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold it within my hands.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, I turn to look at Ben and see that his eyes are closed while his eternal cocky smirk plays around his lips. I love that grin. It’s as if he knows the answers to something you want to know really bad, but he won’t tell you just because. And it also happens to remind me of happier days.
The setting sun casts an amber glow to everything in the park including his beautiful tanned face and his dark curls that are flying in reckless abandon. I move from his embrace, then turn to straddle his lap so that we’re facing each other. I run my hands through his hair as I watch his smirk turn into an open smile.
“Your hair is getting really long, baby.”
“Can’t cut it, babe,” he answers, keeping his eyes closed.
“How did you know I was going to suggest a trim? And why not?” I ask.
“My hot wife digs it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, woman.” He opens his eyes and stares at me with so much love. “I like the feel of your hands running through my hair.” He leans over me, whispering in my ear, “It reminds me of the dirty things you let me do to you when you pull it. Plus the hot interns like it.”
“Hot interns?”
Ben laughs when he sees my expression. “Is my woman getting jealous?”
“Jealous?” I ask, frowning. Maybe I am.
“Babe, chill…I’m just teasing you. I don’t care about the interns. I only care whether you like it or not, and if I’m being honest, you pull my hair when I am making you come…hard… and it f**king turns me on.” He licks my ear.
I can’t help the shiver that runs through my body.
“Ben… not here,” I protest.
He chuckles.
“Then let’s go,”
“You ass. No, we’re not going anywhere. We’re staying here.” I elbow him.
“Cathy…It’s been too long. Come on.” He wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles my neck.
Feeling a hint of the intimacy we shared before I became a failure as a woman return, I want to open up to him and just talk to him. Share my inner demons. Maybe if I explain to him how I feel, the emptiness will go away.
I’m about to tell him that we should leave and head home when he kisses me sweetly on the cheek. I slowly turn my face and kiss him on the lips desperately. I need his kiss to hold me here. To this life. To him.
When our lips part, we look at each other as we breathe heavily. Ben’s arms are wrapped around me, all of me, and it feels good for the first time in a very long time.
“Babe, what’s the matter? I can see something is bothering you. Why don’t you tell me? You know I’ll do everything and anything you ask of me as long as it’s in my power to do so.” He kisses my nose, then moves his hands to cup my ass.
I laugh because as soon as his hands touch my ass, he wiggles his eyebrows and leers at me, looking like a pervert. I decide to come clean to Ben.
“Watching all these children play…it has made me think.”
“About what, babe?”
“Um, I’m just so afraid, baby. I-I feel like a failure because I-I haven’t—”
“Stop, Cathy. I hate when you do this to yourself. Stop thinking about it. There are so many options that we can try…so many options still available to us.”
“No…let me finish, please,” I plead. Ben seems annoyed, but he lets me continue. “I want to tell you this. I’m just so afraid that it will never happen. I truly thought the IVF treatment was going to work. I really did.” I feel tears gather in the back of my throat, but I can’t stop now. “What if we can’t...never…”
Ben places a warm finger on my mouth. “Shh…don’t be so negative. We could always go back to see the adoption lawyer, you know. I don’t mind.”
“No, no, no. Ben, that’s too much. I’m not sure I could handle it...the not knowing.”
“Then why don’t you try and be a little bit more positive?”
His words are like a slap to the face. I’m trying to be honest with him for once, and he keeps shutting me down, almost as if my worries aren’t important enough.
“Babe, I just think you’re going about it all wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hell, Cathy, I don’t know. I just think you’re too negative sometimes. I believe you have this mindset that everything won’t work out.” He caresses my cheek, but his touch isn’t welcome this time. “Babe, don’t be angry. I just think you have to be more positive about it. We’ll make it work.”
“But—” I want to ask him what happens if it doesn’t, but he stops me.
“But nothing. I can see the subject is affecting you. Let’s drop it, okay?”
No, it’s not okay. But Ben seems to have decided it’s time to drop it, so I do. Shrugging my shoulders, I move to stand, but Ben stops me.
“Hey,” he cups my cheeks, “Look at me, love. Don’t be angry. I just want you to stop blaming yourself and thinking the worst. It’s not healthy.”
I don’t want to look at him anymore. I want to tell him that I’m entitled to think whatever I want, but I don’t. Deep down, I know he’s right because I know all those things.
My mind knows. However, try telling it to my heart.
Ben stares at me, expecting me to say something, but I don’t.
There’s nothing else to say.
All I know is that it doesn’t matter anymore.
“Catherine? Are you there?” Arsen waves his hand in front of my face. “You were saying?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” I take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. You see, about two years ago I was diagnosed with a condition known as habitual abortion or Recurrent Pregnancy Loss. My case was specifically unexplained RPL. Meaning, I could get pregnant but each pregnancy ended with me miscarrying without a cause. It just kept happening to me, and there was no valid explanation behind it since all the tests came back normal.”
Without saying empty words, Arsen reaches for my hand and holds it in his. “Go on.”
I look down at our hands, feeling his warm touch in mine, and I realize it makes me feel better.
“After my third miscarriage, it took us forever to get pregnant again. That condition is known as secondary infertility. We tried drugs, acupuncture, IVF, we saw specialists… the whole shebang. But nothing worked. I mean, Ben and I even saw an adoption lawyer, but after he explained to us the whole process of trying to adopt a baby and that even if we went through it all it wasn’t a guaranteed thing…” I pause, “I just couldn’t do it. It was much too painful, so we kind of gave up. Well, I gave up.”
I lick my lips, suddenly they feel dry. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” I swallow hard. “I must be boring you to death.”
Arsen shakes his head. “No, go ahead, Dimples. I’m listening,” he encourages huskily, still holding my hand in his.
Staring at him, feeling the connection between us grow, I tell him what I can’t share with Ben. I really have no clue how Arsen is getting me to talk to him about my deepest fears in the middle of the day while sitting in a busy diner. Maybe it’s the understanding I see in his eyes, or the supportive grip on my hand, but somehow I know I have found a friend in him. One who won’t judge me.
“So now I’m pregnant again, and I’m so scared. I want to have faith and be positive about the pregnancy, but I can’t. There’s this constant fear that something will go wrong, a fear so powerful sometimes I can’t breathe. I look at my stomach and think that it’s too good to be true. And if something happens to the baby...I don’t know what will happen to me, Arsen. I don’t. I want my baby so much it’s hard to think of anything else.”