*Present day*
A year went by before any of us talked about trying for a baby again. I think I first mentioned it when we were at Sophie's son's birthday party, and we were the only ones there with no children. I saw the pain in Adam's eyes and I realized that none of this was fair on him. I owed it to him to try. So that night when we arrived home, I showed Adam a bank statement, at first he was confused as to why I was showing him, but after explaining it was the money my mother had left me, he understood. I told him she'd want us to use it for the IVF, she always believed in us; she would've wanted us to be happy.
To say he was thrilled would be an understatement.
But our plans would be ruined, Thomas told us he couldn't see us through the treatment, as he was moving to Scotland, Melrose to be exact. He would be running his own clinic at the local hospital, and he would be able to do our treatments for free if we were to live in Scotland.
So, I guess that's the real reason why we're here today. Adam will always insist it's for his job. But I'm no fool.
'Useless.' I laugh. 'Will you be saying that when I push your baby out of my vagina?'
'Robbie, don't be so disgusting.'
'You are always the one telling me that it's the best miracle in life, now you're saying it's disgusting.'
'Just go back to sleep, we have a few more hours to go, and I don't want to spend them talking about your lady parts.'
'For a doctor, you really are a prude.'
'Goodnight, Robbie.'
'I'm not tired anymore.' I sit up and run my hand down his arm, he shivers. 'I want to talk more about vag-'
'Robbie, enough!' He slams his hand on the steering wheel. 'I'm not in the mood for your childish behaviour!'
'Jeez, calm down.'
'I need quiet.'
'Okay, sorry. I'll just read my book.' He doesn't smile or laugh anymore. When we were younger, he'd always be the one cracking jokes and making rude comments. Now, I'm lucky if he smiles when I come home from work.
I remember a time three years ago after Adam came home from work, he'd been out for a few drinks with his co-workers, which is nothing out of the ordinary, except his mood that night. I was in the living room, going through something for work, he waltzes in, laughing, which was contagious. He took my notes from me and put them down, he asked me to dance, and we did. We danced, and we remembered why we fell in love. Or I remembered the man who I fell for. He finally stood in front of me again. When we got tired he took me to bed and held me, playing with my hair and singing into my ear, he kept me up all night, but it didn't matter. I felt I had gone back in time, and I prayed it would stay that way, that this would be forever the feeling of love, and happiness.
Sadly, it wasn't the case.
The next morning he went to work, came home, and acted as if it never happened. I tried to talk to him about it, but he told me that he would never act so childish again. The routine was the same. No love, no passion, but instead the pressure was back. The pressure to have a family. I thought I'd be enough for him. God, how stupid I sound.
Nothing is that perfect. No matter how much you want it to be.
*
After another few quiet hours, we arrive at our new home. It's gone 2AM, and I was on the verge of exhaustion, my eyes too sore to remain open, but also made me squirm when I tried to close them.
'Robbie, we're here.'
'I uhh... yeah... cool.' After a few attempts to get the car door open, Adam surrenders and helps me out of the car. 'Carry me!' I throw my arms around his neck, the force threatening to send us both to the ground.
'Jesus.' He laughs. 'Okay, hold on.' He puts his free arm under my legs and carries me like a baby in the house. 'I'll give you the tour tomorrow.' Adam found this house when he came to visit Thomas a few months ago. He told me it was the perfect family home, plenty of room for our future kids... or dogs. Might as well admit it to myself if Adam won't.
He's risking a lot, but he needs to believe it's a risk worth taking. Me? Well, I'm not going to pretend like this is going to work in our favour. I'm a realist. After carrying me up the stairs, he puts me on the bed, I curl up in a ball and hug the pillow next to me.
'You're not sleeping in your clothes.'
'Pyjamas are in box, box in car, Robbie in bed, Robbie not moving.'
'Fine, but we're not doing this again.' He pulls the blanket over me before climbing into bed, he brings me into a cuddle, but it feels forced. He plays with my hair for a few moments before giving up and rolling me to the other side of the bed. I used to feel safe and comforted in his arms, but now I feel nothing but resentment from him. It's one thing to tell me how much of a disappointment I am, but it's another to show me how little I mean to you.
I often find myself wondering why you continue to stay in this marriage if it makes you so sad. Why would you complain about putting up with me, but continue to tell people how happy we are?
I would be devastated if he left me, but like everything else, I'd adapt. I'd learn to live without you, I'd be okay in the end. But here you are, still trying to make it work.
He must love me. But why does he continue to punish me?
I've punished myself enough for the two of us over the years; I accepted my flaws, I did my best with what was thrown my way.
My hope is that he will be happier here, that there will be no more heartbreak. I need to show him I'm not so useless, I can be who he wants me to be.
'I love you.' I whisper. He doesn't stir.' Okay, well, goodnight.' I turn over and shut my eyes and tell myself something I say every single night.
Tomorrow is a new day.