Page 25 of Changing Tides

“I know, Sophie. I really do know that. We hadn’t had spontaneous sex in so long. It was like through all the years of disappointment, something died between us. And then when we had the miscarriage in January, I felt like something died in you, too. You weren’t the Sophie I fell in love with anymore. You were sad all the time. I know that doesn’t make it right. I’m sorry if I am making excuses.” He pauses and sighs. “I just want you to know, I tried to stop seeing her. But I would get home from work and find you in a funk again, and I’d lose my nerve to break things off with her. I tried so hard every day to make you happy. I know you don’t think I was trying but I was. And then eventually, I got tired of trying. I didn’t know what to do anymore. If you had said you wanted to do another cycle, I would have. But once you decided to give up, I couldn’t pull you out of the black hole you were living in. Being with someone else relieved me of that. I never meant for it to go this far. I just needed a break.” He puts his head in his hands. “It was always supposed to be me and you.”

I look sideways at him, and he slowly turns to meet my gaze. I exhale deeply. “It was. But now it’s not. What’s done is done.”

Therapist Sophie understands where James is coming from. One of the things that no one talks about is the effect that infertility has on a marriage. Our marriage had a hole in it, and it would have taken both of us to save it. But I couldn’t see my way out. I needed him to throw me a life preserver and instead, he drove the boat away.

We’re silent for a few moments before James says, “Are you really going to move to Cape May?”

“I’m going to move to Cape May, yes,” I tell him. “It’s the only place I have felt peace for the last seven weeks.” Not wanting to prolong this conversation anymore I say, “Do I have to sign something?”

James pulls some paperwork from a realty office out of the box between us. He’s already signed all the highlighted areas required of him, but there are several places for me to sign and initial. He hands me a pen. We’re silent while I flip through the documents other than him pointing to a few places I missed. When I finish, I stand up and move to take the box, but he beats me to it. We both peer inside. Right on top, there is a small selection of loose wedding photos. Beneath that is a purple embossed keepsake box that if he dug into, he’d find my infertility keepsakes, which are mostly ultrasound pictures and used pregnancy tests—gross, I know.

He reaches in and picks up a wedding photo of us holding hands as we’re walking away but looking back at the camera. Our happiness is palpable. We study the picture together for a moment and then catch each other's gaze. We’re both tearful as we stare into each other’s eyes. James speaks first. “I guess this is it. I never meant to hurt you, Soph.” He wipes a stray tear away from his rosy cheek with his thumb. For the first time, I can see that this has been hard on him too. We’ve been through the wringer together. I hoped we’d come out together, too, but somehow, we got separated along the way.

“I guess so,” I sniffle and shrug. I am sure my tears are a combination of anger and sadness but for some reason, I can’t let him see me ugly cry. He’s held me many times through many dark days, but this is different. He was on my side then. Now he has someone else’s side to be on. He’s never been the cause of the big fat raindrop-size tears threatening to fall. “The end of an era.” I try a small smile. Rubbing my arms to self-soothe, I walk over to the passenger door. I open it and James sets the box on the seat. I walk around to the driver’s side and he follows, watching as I climb in and buckle my seatbelt.

“I will call or email you and let you know what the realtor says.” He ducks his head in the car and kisses my forehead.

All I can do is nod my head before my eyes again fill with tears. I pull the door shut and start the engine. James gives the roof of the car a farewell tap, and I back out of the driveway.

It’s only when I’m on my way to my dad’s house that I let the tears fall.

14

LIAM

Ellie wants to keep Lucy for the rest of the day. I assume it’s because I look as bad as I feel. As soon as I get back, I head right upstairs and fall into bed. I decide a nap is exactly what I need but my sleep is restless.

And then I’m dreaming again.“Liam, come on. We’ve got to go,” Cara is telling me. She’s stomping her foot outside my car again. “I don’t understand you. You said you wanted to go to the game.” She indignantly puts her hands on her hips and purses her lips. She’s pouting. Next, she’ll try to persuade me with a flirtatious curl of her lips and a come-hither motion with her index finger. I shake my head vigorously, fighting the internal conflict. Do I follow Cara? My heart races at the thought of letting her down but I’m determined to stop her from getting in that car.

“I don’t want to go anymore,” I tell her again. “It’s going to rain anyway. Let’s stay here and watch a movie,” I try.

“No, Liam. Melanie is waiting for us. We have to pick her up.” Cara crosses her arms and then her eyes light up. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she coos, waving me over. Dream Liam always caves to this. If only Cara could see what our life would be like if we skipped this football game.

* * *

We’reat our college graduation at Duke University. I am waiting to hear my name. Cara Cote has been called already and is sitting back in her seat, diploma in hand. “Liam Harper,” the president of the university calls me up to receive my diploma. My hand is sweaty as I try to conceal the handmade sign I have rolled up in my left hand, camouflaged by the sleeve of my gown. As soon as I shake the president’s hand, I drop down to one knee and hold up my sign. “Cara Cote, will you marry me?” And the crowd goes wild. Cara hops out of her seat and runs to me to say yes. When we kiss, the audience hoots and hollers, applauding enthusiastically. We’re on top of the world.

Then it’s our wedding day. “I now pronounce you husband and wife! Liam, you may kiss your bride,” the preacher yells.

I dip Cara backward and kiss her passionately as all our friends and family clap. Everyone’s face is a blur as we walk up the aisle holding hands, our love and excitement evident. The world is at our feet.

We’re in a dimly lit hospital room. “Come on, Cara! One more push. You got this.” And then a baby cries. The baby is placed on Cara’s chest, and we look at each other lovingly. I kiss her softly and then kiss the baby’s head. I’ve never been so in love.

We are leaving the hospital in my navy blue mustang with the green rims. There is no room for the baby’s car seat because Melanie is there too, so we put the car seat on top of the bass. And then we’re back in Lower Township heading for that four-way stop. We’re blasting Blink-182 again and singing at the top of our lungs. A baby is crying in the distance as I awaken with the sound of the crash.

I jerk awake, disoriented. I run my fingers through my hair and down my face. My eyes are wet. I must’ve been crying this time. It’s been a long time since my dreams have gotten this bad or have felt so real. It’s the first time I’ve ever clearly seen what might’ve been. I am gutted by the visions of what our life could have looked like if I hadn’t been so overconfident behind the wheel that night.

I prop myself up in bed and lean my head against the headboard. I’m not sure what to do about the recent and unwelcome return of these dreams-turned-nightmares. I thought I had a good handle on things. I am finding my groove with Lucy, hitting the gym, working regularly. The only thing that has really changed is the stress of the last few days—and my drinking habits are starting back up again. Not enough to really cause a problem, but enough that I should probably cool it a little with the after-bedtime beers.

I throw the blanket off me and walk into my master bathroom. It is one of the only rooms I have remodeled in this house and something of an oasis. Black-and-white penny tiles cover the floor, leading into a six-foot-long, black-framed glass shower with a rain head and six wall sprayers. The walls are white subway tile with white grout, and the shower floor is pebbled tile. My vanity is natural wood with black fixtures, a marble top, and a black faucet. I am truly proud of it because I did all of this after my day job, before Leah left. My plan was to do Leah’s bathroom next. I look in the black-framed mirror at my ashen expression. I turn the cold water on and splash it on my face. Then I trim my beard back to a regular five o’clock shadow and brush my teeth.

I pick up my phone to check my messages, but there are none—not even the group thread with my guy friends talking smack to each other. I click on Sophie’s name. Nothing back from her, either. I must’ve really made her angry on Friday. I contemplate sending her another one, but ultimately decide against it. I don’t know much about Sophie. Maybe she needs more time to cool off after an argument. Maybe she holds grudges. I have too much going on in my life to grovel.

I text Ellie to make sure she doesn’t mind if I head to the gym for an hour before grabbing Lucy, and she’s fine with it. When I get back, I’ll call Doc. Maybe it’s time I get back to seeing him regularly. I decide to run there to help me blow off some steam. Gradually, as I run, the post-dream sadness begins to ease.

* * *

“Hello! You’re looking better!”Ellie says as she swings open the front door to greet me. The smell of dinner is wafting down the hall and straight to my nostrils. I don’t realize how hungry I am until my stomach audibly growls. “I hope you’re staying for pot roast. Otherwise, I will be eating it for the next seven days.” I hear Lucy’s adorable sounds coming from the other room and I smile. This is as close to a Sunday family dinner as I’ll get. Ellie makes me feel cared for. And I know she cares about Lucy. I can’t imagine where I’d be without her in my life. A hell of a lot worse off, I bet.

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