Rob breathes in a steady rhythm at my back. With his arms wrapped tightly around me, tossing and turning isn’t an option anymore.
It seems in its dire need for sleep, his body automatically responded to still my movement, allowing him to rest in peace.
My stomach protests the awkward position, cramping until my brain throbs in time with the painful jabs. The ibuprofen isn’t working anymore. As the weeks have slowly crept by, the pain has spread into my lower back. Even a higher dose of Advil doesn’t take the edge off. I suppose that’s what happens when you take it every night for three months straight.
Sleep clearly isn’t going to claim me any time soon with anxieties like that pecking at my brain.
I don’t want to disturb Rob with my restlessness, so with great effort, I pry his heavy arms off me and pad out to the living room in socked feet, careful not to trip over the cats or step on the creaky spots of the floor.
There’s just something about the night that demands quiet.
I sit on the couch, curling up into a ball and gazing out the sliding-glass door in our living room. A typical late January snow falls steadily over the State campus, blanketing the air in an almost stifling silence. Our little deck has several inches of powder covering the two plastic chairs we’ve sat in many times, talking all night long about everything and nothing, near the little chimenea Rob insisted on buying, “because fires are relaxing, and our home should be the place where we’re most comfortable.”
He says a lot of funny things.
“Just because I’m predicted to go in the first round doesn’t mean it will happen.” Rob takes a swig of his beer as he gazes out into the distance, his eyes fixated on a particular landmark. “If you could pick any city for us to move to, which one would it be?”
“I don’t think it matters. You have to go where you’re drafted. That’s a possibility of only thirty-two cities. It’s not like you’ll have a choice.”
He nods his head, not like he’s agreeing with me but rather in the way he does when he’s thinking. “True, but we need to move onto phase two of our plan. That means preparing, narrowing down options, figuring out which cities are close to grad schools you want to apply to.”
“There’s a phase two to your master plan?”
The brightness of his smile competes with the twinkling Christmas lights that he draped over the railing. “Of course. No one lives happily ever after with only one step. It takes at least twelve, maybe thirteen in my experience.”
“You’re obsessed with that old list. Please tell me you don’t still carry it in your wallet.”
He raises his eyebrows, his face taking on a positively gleeful expression. “That’s not the only thing I keep in there anymore.”
I train my gaze on the same spot he stared at that night over two months ago. You wouldn’t know it now by the stadium’s deserted appearance, but it was another winning year for State football. The Miners didn’t make it to the National Championship for a third year in a row, but it was a good season.
A smile spreads across my face, remembering Rob’s return to play after the trainers lifted his concussion protocol. As he predicted, he only sat out one game.
The applause was thunderous when he stepped onto the field.
The look of shock on his dad’s face was by far my favorite part of the day, though. As far as Mr. Falls knew, Rob was supposed to ride the bench that day.
Rob’s master plan is running smoothly and right on schedule.
With the exception of one very important part neither of us factored into the equation.
It’s not too long before the sound of Rob making his way down the hall interrupts the silence. He drops down onto the couch beside me with a heavy sigh. His muscles are tense, dark circles ring his beautiful blue eyes, and his mouth is frozen in the perpetual frown that’s been there ever since the season ended.
“Baby?” he whispers without making eye contact. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.” As angry as I’ve become, I can’t bear to see him suffering. I just don’t know that I have the strength to do what needs to be done.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Not really. Admitting weakness and defeat has never been a part of who I am. But, loving Rob has always been a constant, even if I didn’t always do such a good job of showing it. Clinging to that thought, to the desire to do right by him, I take a deep breath and rip off the bandage. “I think it’s time to call the game.”
“Call the game?”
I nod, staring out at the falling snowflakes. “This isn’t working. It’s time to accept it and move on with our lives.”
The couch shifts as he turns his body. Though I don’t dare look, I feel his eyes burning into me. “What are you saying?”
I have no idea what I’m saying. As much as it’s been weighing on my mind, I haven’t planned this out. I’m going in completely blind, so I spit out the first idea that pops into my brain. I seem to be quite adept at not censoring my words lately. “I’m going to move in with Mike. He has an extra room.”
Rob jumps up from the couch, pacing in front of the door and disturbing my tranquil view. He pulls his hands through his hair as his shoulders ride up with unmistakable frustration. “No. We just need more time. You’ve never given up before, Evie. Don’t call it quits now. If this is a number seven thing, then fine. Go ahead and stay with Mike for a bit while we figure out another route. But, we will make this work. We are not getting a divorce.”
Still with that stupid list. I swear, he’s turned it into some type of Bible of his own. “It’s been three months. It’s not getting better. If anything, it’s getting worse. And there’s a big difference between acceptance and giving up. I’m becoming someone I really don’t like. You’re turning into someone I barely know. I don’t need space, Rob. This isn’t going to be temporary. If you want to stay married until you’re settled with your new team and get your legal affairs in place, then fine. But, I’m moving out. And… I think we should see other people.”
Once the words leave my mouth, there’s no taking them back.
Tears spring in my eyes because as much as this wound has been festering, exposing it hurts far more than I could have ever imagined.
Still, time is running out, and this has to be done. With the draft looming, Rob needs a while to regroup, to alter his plans. That’s the least I can give him. But, he’s going to need a push in the right direction.
His gaze snaps to mine. In a heartbeat, he’s on the floor, kneeling before me. His panic bleeds out into the night and threatens to drown me in the flood. He darts his gaze over me, frantic to get inside my head and argue all logic.
This is exactly how I know I’m doing the right thing.
Where we used to be each other’s strength, now we only smother one another. I have no light left, no identity beneath his shadow. He’s left feeling inadequate, like every step he takes by my side breaks him down a little more.
Tears stream down his face as he grabs my hands, enveloping them in his much larger ones. “We can try other things. Let’s give it another month. Hell, we don’t have to even have sex anymore! I don’t need it. I can please you in other ways.”
I would laugh, if his desperation wasn’t so utterly sad. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a twenty-two-year-old man, with an amazing future unfolding before you. You can’t go the rest of your life without a basic human need.” His jaw feels stubbly beneath my fingers as I swipe at the dampness collecting there. “Sex isn’t supposed to be like this, Rob. You know that as much as anyone.”
“I know sex doesn’t matter as much as love. I know there’s more than one way to define it, to enjoy each other. I know intimacy has nothing to do with physical pleasure,” he argues, then suddenly quiets. His face falls as realization dawns in his eyes. “You would enjoy it with someone not as big as me. Every time I hurt you, it reminds you of him.”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve already told you. This isn’t about my assault.” I reach for him again, but he pulls away. “And it’s not just about the sex, Rob. I told you if it was bad, that wouldn’t be enough to make me run away like you were so worried about.”
He slowly rises from his knees, his chest heaving with panted breaths. He folds his hands behind his head and resumes his pacing. “If that’s not what it’s about, then why are you talking like this? You’re doing exactly what I worried about: pushing me away at the first sign of trouble. I don’t know how to do this, Evie. I promised myself I’d never hurt you again, but I can’t let you go, either. I’d rather go the rest of my life without a basic need,” he spits out the words as if they taste like bile, “than without you. Don’t ask me to let you go.”
“You don’t have to let me go completely.” I pat the couch beside me, hoping a little warmth will make him see reason. “Are you my friend or not?”
He drops onto the cushion with a huff. “You and I have never been just friends.”
I curl up into his side. He’s as warm and comforting as ever. With him, I feel safe, secure, at peace. The passion I always imagined would be part of our life together once we took that final step is nowhere to be found. That elusive, all-encompassing fiery love must be either mythical or not possible for two people as broken as we are.
What if we’ve been mistaking comfort for love all along?
While I still have no memories of my attack, Rob isn’t completely misguided in his accusations. The pain I feel when he penetrates me doesn’t remind me of anything but my own shortcomings. Every night that he holds back, trying to keep me comfortable, makes me feel even more useless than my disfigured breasts do.
In public, he bears taunts about my photo shoot. Other than one massive blowout between us, he never mentions it. Still, I hear the whispers, see the stares. His father wasn’t wrong about the ridicule Rob has experienced now that the world knows how ugly I am.
Even his teammates look at us differently now that they know.
The pity in their eyes for their quarterback and captain has been slowly killing me.
I’ve read articles, seen little snippets on TV. Rob is a laughingstock in a sea of athletes who are used to only getting the best the world has to offer.
Combined with years of people telling me I’m not good enough for him, every time he tries to make love to me, all I hear are their words rather than his whispers.
“For years, he hasn’t known what to do with you,” Alex explained.
“He wants to use that long, thick cock of his to pound his woman until she screams his name,” Kerri once said.
“You’re dragging him down with you,” his father seethed.
As it turns out, none of them were wrong.
My own hateful words to him these past few months are the worst of all.
Rob just doesn’t see it yet. He’s more stubborn than I am when he puts his mind to something.
Unfortunately, for the past seven years, he’s had it in his head I’m the perfect woman for him.
For so long, I let myself believe that lie, too. Instead of taking the many warnings to heart, I selfishly used them as a battle cry, a way to protect myself from the truth by mistaking them as challenges to rise against.
I wanted Rob more than anything, and I was willing to risk everything to have him.
Even his own well-being.
So, I understand we’ll need to take baby steps to break ourselves of the addiction we have to each other, to come to terms with the reality of the situation.
“Do you just need someone else to tell you that you’re beautiful?” Rob asks, tears choking his words, his voice muffled against my hair. “Is that why you want to see other people? I know you’ve never believed me when I tell you, and the photo shoot didn’t make things any easier. Maybe you just need to find out for yourself, then you’ll relax in bed and let me love you without the past coming between us. I guess I’ve been selfish to assume I’m all you need. It was foolish to believe I could fix all the damage Jackson, Eddie, and your father did to your self-esteem. I’ve never been any better than them, anyway. Is that what this is all about? Because if this is what you need to feel worthwhile again, then I can handle it.”
I pull away to gaze at his tear-streaked face. Knowing I’m the cause of the immense stress he’s under solidifies my decision. His blue eyes practically beg me to make this easier for him. To leave him with a little less guilt than I brought into his life.
He’s completely wrong. No man has ever or will ever make me feel as beautiful, as wanted, as Rob does.
But if this is what he needs from me in order to move on with his life, to finally break the chains of his guilt, then this will be the last mask I ever wear.
And I will wear this one with great pride…and love.