London
“I’m engulfed in darkness, suffocating from its weight, and the worst part is, I can’t seem to care.”
—London Berkeley
I sit in the shower, head bent, the hot spray pelting my back, as I cry. My tears are masked by the streams of water rolling over my skin—not that it matters. Loïc’s not going to pop in for a wet rendezvous. That’s not how it works anymore. Sex is planned and takes place in the bed at the optimal time and position for conception.
God, how things have changed since we started trying in Savannah last May. That was eight months ago, but it might as well be a lifetime. I’m not the same person I was then. Somewhere between periods that insist on arriving and the babies that never do, I’ve lost myself. Amid the tracking, the pills, the shots, and the appointments with doctors that hold medical degrees in false promises, I’ve succumbed to an obscurity I can’t escape.
I’m engulfed in darkness, suffocating from its weight, and the worst part is, I can’t seem to care.
My heart aches constantly for the family I can’t have. Yet, the further I fall, the number I become. Soon, I won’t feel anything.
I turn off the water and dry off.
Bending at the waist, I twist my wet hair into the towel and stand back up. The mirror in front of me is foggy, covered in condensation from the hot steam of my shower. I pull in deep breaths of hot air laced with the taste of mint as I brush my teeth.
I have to have sex with my husband. I sigh. When did having sex with Loïc turn into such a chore? I’d guess it was somewhere between the many negative pregnancy tests and shots in my butt cheek. Nothing kills the sexy like a needle full of evil hormones being jammed into your skin.
Exiting the bathroom, I call Loïc’s name. He doesn’t answer. I walk throughout the house, yelling his name, and still, no response.
Where is he?
Finally, I catch a glimpse of him through the blinds. He’s standing in our screened-in porch, talking on the phone. The Smoky Mountains is a beautiful place to live year-round. The views in the winter are spectacular with the snow-covered peaks and rolling hills of evergreens. Yet it’s also freezing cold with bitter winds. One wouldn’t choose to stand outside to make a phone call.
I open the sliding glass door, startling Loïc. “What are you doing?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Talk to you soon,” he says into his cell phone before stepping inside. “Just making a phone call,” he responds.
“Outside? In the cold?” I scan his attire. “In a T-shirt and boxers?”
“It was just a quick call.” He shrugs before leaning in and giving me a kiss on the forehead.
“Who were you talking to?” I follow him into the living room.
“Just a military buddy.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?”
“Tommy,” he responds after a beat.
I hold out my hand. “Let me see your phone,” I say with a scowl.
“London, stop.” His tone is placating, which bothers me even more.
“Let me see your phone, Loïc,” I demand.
“You’re being silly, babe. You know you have nothing to worry about. Please stop.”
“Whatever,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go.” I turn and head toward the bedroom. “It’s time to make a deposit. We’ll talk about the rest later.”
Loïc follows me. “Please stop calling it that. That’s not sexy.”
“Well, it’s what it is, right? I’m sorry the idea isn’t sexy enough for you.” I drop the towel and fall onto my back atop the bed. “Make your deposit,” I say again, my words lacking emotion.
Loïc sighs and removes his clothes. He bends, takes ahold of my foot, and starts kissing up my leg.
I groan with irritation. “I don’t want any of that tonight. I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Just do your thing.”
“London,” Loïc starts to protest.
“Come on. It’s the perfect time right now. Just do it. I don’t want to fight about it. I just want you to do it.” My voice rises an octave, and the annoyance inside me comes to the surface.
Loïc’s chest expands as he pulls in a long breath. He bites his lip as his eyes narrow. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and for that, I’m grateful. Instead, he starts to stroke himself. I open my legs wider to prepare for his entry, and then I close my eyes and wait.
Sleepily, my eyelids flutter open. My gaze falls to the sun’s bright rays shining in through the window, warming the bare skin of my arm.
Sunshine.
A lone tear cascades down my cheek at the sight. I can’t recall the last time the sun made an appearance—surely not this month. Why am I living in a place where three weeks of January can pass without one ray of sunshine?
I miss the sun and warm weather. I hate winter.
Truth is, it’s the climate within these walls that’s suffocating me—stealing my breath, my hopes, and my joy.
How did I get here? To this place?
I turn, pulling the down comforter with me, wrapping it tightly around my chest. Loïc’s lying on his side, his back to me, as he sleeps. I study his skin—perfectly imperfect—toned, lined with muscles, smooth, and scarred in places. He’s so beautiful, every part of him, inside and out.
I’ve been so ugly. That thought propels more tears to fall. Tears of regret and so much sorrow. I don’t attempt to stop them as they roll down my cheek, dampening my pillow.
It’s astounding how much truth comes to the surface in the early morning light—the truth weighted with remorse, the fresh new rays washing away the darkness of the past. It’s a visual reminder that our mistakes of yesterday don’t have to pave the way for today.
Lately though…they have been. Every day has been full of an emptiness equal to or greater than that of the day before.
I reach for Loïc, and my palm rests against his soft skin—needing to feel his warmth to calm the aching within my chest, the raw pain and regret that consume me.
Loïc stirs and turns toward me. His tired eyes widen when they see me, full of concern and unconditional love.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out before he can say anything. “I’m so sorry.”
He deserves so much better.
He pulls me against his chest, and I wrap my arm around him. He holds me tight as my tears fall harder.
“I love you,” I say through a sob. “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”
Loïc is incredibly loyal to those he loves. Yet how can he still love me? I’m nothing like the woman he married. I’ve turned into this mean, miserable person. I’ve tried to get out of it, but every time I attempt to rise from my grief, a wave of sadness knocks me back down. My heart hurts all the time, more than hearts should be allowed to hurt.
I can see myself changing. Each day, I fall deeper into the darkness, yet I allow myself to plummet. I don’t have the will to stop it. I want to. I know I should. But I can’t.
“London”—Loïc’s voice is soothing, bringing me more peace than anything else in this moment ever could—“I love you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever.” He kisses my head.
“Promise?” I ask.
His eyes soften. “I promise.”
“Are you sure you still love me?” I hear how pathetic I sound, but I don’t care. I crave Loïc’s strength. I need it.
“Always. We’ll get through this.”
I slide underneath the sheet that’s draped over Loïc and throw the comforter over us both. Last night, after making love—no. Having sex? Nope. I guess we’ll just call it trying to get pregnant. After that, we both just stayed in bed. I press my bare body up against his and wrap my leg around his good one. I love feeling his skin against mine, and as I nuzzle deeper into his chest, it’s utterly cathartic.
Everything about Loïc heals me—his touch, his actions, his endearing words. I really don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m so glad he’s mine.
“You know, it makes so much more sense now,” Loïc says. “My mom. She always carried a sadness with her. I mean, she was a great mom. She loved me; I knew that. Yet, even when she was smiling, there was a quality to it that was off. I couldn’t see it when I was young, but I see it clearly now. I see it in you.”
Loïc wraps his arms tighter around me. “In my earliest memories of my mom, I knew she was trying to have a baby. My parents always talked about having a brother or sister for me. It’s tragic to think that the last years of her life were spent engulfed in sorrow over something that she couldn’t control. You know? I don’t want that for you, London. I don’t know how long this process is going to take. I know we’ll have a family somehow. Maybe not in the conventional way, but we’ll have one. It could take a while, maybe years. I can’t bear to see you like this for years.”
“I don’t want to be like this.” My voice cracks. “I don’t know how to stop it, how to feel better. I want a baby so badly, and I feel like a failure. Maybe because I’ve never had to want for anything in my life, and now, what I want the most is out of my reach. I’m just weak.”
Loïc lets out a dry laugh. “You’re anything but weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know, London. I’m sure many women who struggle to get pregnant—all from different upbringings—feel the way you do. The emotions that you’re going through are normal. Yet we can’t let them control us. There’s a life ahead of us with children in it; I know it. But, until we reach it, you can’t stop living your life now. You’ll never get this time back, babe.”
“I know,” I agree.
“We’ll talk to a professional, a therapist. Get some strategies to help us cope. Okay?”
I nod. I know he’s right. I need help. “Yeah.”
“I need a favor from you,” Loïc says.
“Okay.”
“At least for the rest of the day, we aren’t going to worry about your temperature, your eggs being in the optimal location, deposits,” he says the last word with clear distaste, “or any of that. Today, we are going to focus on you only.”
I lean my head back, so I can stare into Loïc’s beautiful blues. A smile crosses my face because I know what’s coming next.
“Okay.” I grin.
“Happy birthday, babe.”
“Thank you,” I answer, feeling suddenly lighter than I did only moments ago.
“I have stuff planned for you.” He shoots me a sexy smirk.
“You do?”
“Yes. Paige will be here shortly.”
“Really?” I shriek.
Loïc laughs. “Yes, really. And I’ve made some spa appointments for the two of you. You have a day of pampering ahead of you.”
I giggle, genuinely happy. I place a succession of quick kisses on Loïc’s lips. “Thank you so much. I’m due for a spa date and girl time.”
“I know you are.” He chuckles.
I let out a content sigh. “I’m going to feel like a new person.”
“That’s the plan.”
I bring my palm to Loïc’s cheek and cup his face. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I ask myself that every day.”
Dropping my hand, I playfully smack his chest. “Hey!”
Loïc’s smile widens. “I meant, how did I get so lucky to get you?”
“Mmhmm.” I press my lips together in a smirk. “Good comeback.”
Loïc’s face goes serious. “I love you more than anything in this world, London Berkeley.”
My heart swells. “And I love you the same, Loïc Berkeley.”
Loïc’s lips find mine, kissing and pulling gently. He takes the kiss deeper. His tongue enters, entwining with mine. An involuntary groan escapes me, and I can feel Loïc harden against my pelvis. I push my hips up against him, needing to feel him.
Our tongues dance together. The kiss, it’s simply magical, as if we’ve been preparing for this kiss our entire lives. My heart pounds within my chest where so much pent-up desire resides.
God, I’ve missed this.
Loïc and I have sex regularly, trying desperately to conceive. But I can’t remember the last time we made love. My soul longs for that intimacy again. I yearn for the connection that can only be found through Loïc.
“Oh, London!” Loïc cries out when he enters me, his voice almost pained.
I moan in response, my breaths equally as heavy as Loïc’s. The sensations are so good that I can’t formulate words. I feel everything though. For the first time in a long time, I feel, and it leaves me breathless.
There’s nothing in the world that could top the emotions that Loïc alone can bring me. He’s my utopia in a world of uncertainty. He’s my other half, completing me in a way that I can barely find the words for. In the dictionary of my life, when I look up the word soul mate, Loïc is the sole definition.
Somehow, he brought me back to myself—even if just for a while—and that’s the greatest gift he could have given me today. This, right here, is about us—connecting, making love.
Just us.
I don’t want to hear it, and I try to block it out. Yet…it chants just the same, Maybe this time, it’ll take. And, just like that, I’m consumed with hope, and I don’t want to be.
Hope is the predecessor of despair. And I just want to be happy.
I close the car door with my pampered hands, complete with freshly painted nails. “You know”—I glare across the hood of my Jeep to Paige—“you’re being weird.”
“I am not,” Paige protests. “I don’t know where he’s taking you for dinner. He didn’t tell me everything.” She dramatically rolls her eyes.
I loop my arm in Paige’s as we head up the walkway to my house. “I don’t believe you, but that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Me, too. It’s been too long,” she agrees.
“Clearly.” I laugh. “From the sex sounds you were making as that guy rubbed your foot, you really should go more often, so when you do get a pedicure, you don’t embarrass yourself.”
“There were no sex sounds,” Paige scoffs.
“Oh, there were.” I snicker.
Paige sighs dreamily. “He was like a magician with his hands. My feet have never felt so good. And he looked like Glenn, right? You know how crazy I am about Glenn. The only thing that would have been hotter was if he were rubbing my feet that way while fighting zombies. I think I would have had a full-on orgasm.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “I have no doubt.” I open the door to our screened-in porch, and Paige and I enter. “Steven Yeun is just an actor. He might be a total pansy in real life.”
“Hell no,” Paige objects adamantly. “He can’t fake that level of badass just for the cameras. He’s like that in real life. If we ever do succumb to a zombie apocalypse, I want Steven with me, on me, in me…all of it. I will call him Glenn though.”
“Oh my gosh.” I chuckle. “He has a wife. Is he just supposed to leave her to be eaten by zombies?”
Paige lets out a sigh of mock annoyance. “Fine. She can come, too. As long as she realizes that I’m Glenn’s true love.”
“Speaking of true love”—I raise my eyebrows—“you still have to finish telling me about Ethan’s last visit.”
“Oh, I will. I—” Paige begins to say as I open the front door.
She’s cut off by a very loud, “Surprise!” as we enter the kitchen.
I jump, startled. As I cover my mouth, my eyes are wide while I scan the open space. It’s adorned with a Happy Birthday banner that stretches from one wall to the other. There are at least a hundred hot pink, black, and silver balloons scattered about, and a giant three-tiered cake sits on the table. And all of that, while nice, isn’t anything compared to what else fills the room—my people. My mom, dad, Maggie, Sarah, Dixon, and…
“George!” I scream, tears filling my eyes, as I run toward my sister.
“Londy!” she shrieks as we hug each other tight.
I haven’t seen my sister in over a year. She’s been trying to save the world from somewhere in Asia, and we haven’t had many communication opportunities. I’ve missed her so much and worried about her even more.
“What—how did you—when?” I can’t even form a complete sentence. I’m completely overwhelmed.
Georgia laughs. “Your husband, of course. He’s a man of many connections, and he’s very persuasive, I might add.”
I take my baby sister’s face in my hands and really look at her. She’s only two years younger than I am, but she’s always seemed much younger. She doesn’t anymore. She seems older, wiser. Her face is so tan for her normally pale complexion. Her long blonde hair is wild, falling in loose waves over her shoulders. It’s beautiful, as always, but it’s also clear that it hasn’t seen a salon or quality hair products in a very long time. Looking into her eyes, I can tell she isn’t the same girl she was the last time I saw her, but then again, I guess I’m not either.
“I’ve missed you so much.” I pull her into another embrace. After a few moments, I release her, saying, “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
I turn to find Loïc with a satisfied smile across his face. I step toward him, and he wraps his arms around me and kisses me.
“Thank you so much,” I say when his lips leave mine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I think back to last night. “So, the secret phone calls?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He nods with a laugh.
“So, you’re not cheating on me?” I say jokingly.
He shakes his head. “No. And you can check my phone now if you’d like.” He smirks.
“Oh, you are so silly,” my mom says from behind me. “That boy’s crazy about you. He’s been planning this party for months.”
“Mom.” I tightly hug her.
“Happy birthday, London.” She hugs me back.
I make my way around the room, greeting everyone. I give Maggie an extra-long embrace. The last person I reach is Sarah, and my heart drops when I see the size of her belly. She’s due next month, and it makes me ill, thinking about it. My belly should be almost as big as hers, but it’s not. A sliver of hatred courses through me—no, not hatred. I suppose it’s envy. Yet it feels an awful lot like hate.
Will Sarah ever make it easy for me to like her?
God, I know it’s not her fault, and I feel horrible that I’m letting her pregnancy affect me so much. I see her, and I just feel so many things—none of them pleasant.
I give her a quick hug. “Where’s Ev?”
“He’s taking a nap in the guest room. The plane ride was very exciting for him. I think he asked nonstop questions the entire time,” she says with a chuckle.
“It’s the age,” my mom chimes in. “I love that toddler age—so much curiosity. So, I heard you were having a girl. When’s she due?” she asks Sarah.
Paige hands me a pinkish beverage.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a new concoction that I’m loving. It has vodka and—”
I cut her off, “You had me at vodka.”
I take her hand while sucking down a big gulp of the sweet drink and head toward the food table.
Loïc had our favorite local authentic Mexican restaurant cater.
I love him.
“Oh, carnitas!” I say out loud.
I find out that Loïc rented a couple of cabins in the area for my parents and Sarah and Dixon, giving them a nice little getaway. He’s so thoughtful. He offered one to Paige, Maggie, and Georgia, but they are opting to stay here with us in our guest rooms. I’m happy because I have so much catching up to do with my sister.
It really is a perfect day. Everyone that I truly love is here—minus my friend and old roommate from California, Kate. She couldn’t get out of work. But she FaceTimes to tell me happy birthday.
I eat more than my share and drink way more than my share, but it’s my birthday, so I’m allowed. I laugh more than I have in a long time, and though I’ve probably eaten twenty pounds of Mexican deliciousness, I feel a hundred pounds lighter.
I sneak over to where Loïc and my dad stand, talking over something I’m sure is not remotely interesting.
“Hey, Daddy. I need to borrow Loïc for a minute.”
“Sure thing, love. I need to go check on your mother anyway. I heard her trying to convince your friend Dixon to lift her into some yoga stunt in the living room. I think she might have had one too many cups of that pink drink for any of that silliness.” He shakes his head with a smile and heads off.
Oh, Mom and her acroyoga.
She cracks me up.
“Hey.” I stare up to Loïc’s eyes once we’re alone, running my hands up under his shirt and against his warm skin.
“Hey.” He smirks back.
“If I haven’t already told you, I want to thank you for tonight. You always know just what I need.”
“You have told me.” He grins. “And you’re welcome. I’m glad you’re having a great time.”
“You know what I feel like?” I ask as my hands explore the front of his chest and pay particular attention to his pecs, pulling gently on his nipples.
He clears his throat and rolls his head back before facing me again. “No, what’s that?”
“I feel like I did at the beginning before Afghanistan, before the breakup, before Cali, before babies,” I say the last word with an air of disgust that I don’t mean. “Just before, you know?”
“I think you feel drunk.” The sides of his lips quirk up into a smile.
I shrug. “Maybe. You know what else?”
“What?”
“Do you remember that Mexican restaurant that you, me, and Cooper went to in Detroit? The one where you fucked me against the wall of the restroom?”
Loïc covers my mouth. “Shh…babe,” he chastises quietly, unable to hide the smile on his lips.
“Do you remember?” I whisper.
“Of course I do.” He bites his bottom lip as I pinch his nipples.
“I want that now,” I say.
“Shouldn’t we wait until your guests leave?”
He nods his head toward the living room where I hear Paige laugh loudly while Georgia shrieks, “Mom, no!”
I shake my head. “No, now. Birthday girl’s wishes.” My hands fall down Loïc’s abdomen and start to dip down his pants.
He quickly pulls my hands off of him. “Okay. Go to our bathroom. I’ll meet you there in one second. Let me just go make sure your mom hasn’t broken a hip first.”
I rise up on my tiptoes. Running my fingers through Loïc’s hair, I pull his face to mine and kiss him hard before I pull away. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either, babe.” He playfully slaps my ass before heading toward the living room.
I watch him walk away, my eyes focused on his butt. Man, he has a good ass.
He’s so beautiful and kind and good. He smiles wide as he talks to my mom. The grin she’s wearing tells me that she didn’t break anything, which is a bonus. My heart inflates as I think about how much I love my husband. The pressure beneath my chest is so great that it’s uncomfortable. I love Loïc so much, it hurts.
I’m going to be better, I think, pulling in a breath.
He’s right; as long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.
I only need him.
All I need is Loïc.
Me and Loïc against the world.
And, as I hastily make my way toward our master bathroom to relive some wall-banging from the past, I believe it.