Going Nowhere

June 21, 2016

 

“Well,” I hear the smile in his voice as the sarcasm began to seep. “I’m pretty sure I love you. And I would like to see a couple Michael Jr.’s running around one day.”

 

I chuckle, “We would not be naming any of our kids Michael Jr.”

 

He squeezes me around the waist. “Is that a yes?”

 

I sigh, shaking my head. I see myself packing lunches at the counter in the kitchen, but I can’t imagine waiting for Michael to get home. I can’t see him wrapping his arms around my waist as I stand there. I see him reading bedtime stories and singing kids to sleep, just not mine. I thoughts surge as I think over this. “Michael, we haven’t even had a real, proper kiss yet.”

 

“We can fix that.” His arms tense around me.

 

I rest my head back, closing my eyes again. “Not right now, Michael.”

 

Michael would stand in the room, nearly hyperventilating, as I delivered my first child. He would be there when I showed up at wedding showers for Sophie and Callie and Emma. We might share a tight smile from across the room and then stand our respective distances.

 

“Michael,” I bite at my lip, trying to consider how to phrase this. “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want...me?”

 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute and I can’t help but fill the space. “I mean, you’d have to be with me for the rest of your life. You’d have to take care of me when I get sick and when I get drunk and when I’m at my worst. you haven’t even seen me at my worst. What happens if you don’t want to be with me anymore? What happens if you wake up one day and we have three kids and a home and you decide you don’t love me anymore? I can’t promise you that, Michael. I can barely promise myself-”

 

“We’ll take it one day at a time.” Michael whispers in my ear. He rubs his palm up and down my arm, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. “I won’t hurt you like that, Anna.”

 

I squeeze my eyes shut. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Anna,” He sighs. “Listen, we don’t have to do anything. But if you don’t love me, you’ve got to tell me. You don’t have to go through with something if you don’t want to.”

 

I could hear his breath catch, knowing the words must have felt like daggers escaping him. And suddenly, I felt my throat close up. Would I have this same feeling as I looked over his casket at the end of his life? What would I think to see his wife in the crowd and know that I was the one that could have been wearing that ring? I’d see his kids and they’d call me ‘aunty’ when they should have called me ‘mommy’. I’d kiss a stranger goodbye in the morning when I had my best friend with his arms wrapped around me here now.

 

I probably wouldn’t get married. I might adopt. But it wouldn’t fill the fact that I let go of everything I knew I wanted. I can’t let go of him.