Page 53 of Sin and Redemption

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to move on,” she said. She looked at me as if I could make it happen, as if I held the key to her happiness in my hand.

“I’ll do what I can to make that happen.”

She briefly touched my hand still resting on her shoulder. Her smooth, small hand on mine made my heart speed up. “You know what I want more than anything else.”

I fucking dreaded our next sexual encounter, but I wasn’t a coward who ducked away when shit hit the fan. I’d make Sara a baby even if it cost me the last shreds of my sanity. I’d make my wife happy, and if a baby was the only way to do it, then she’d get her baby.

Two weeks later, Sara and I shared another sexual encounter that was hardly any better. She still wanted to get it over with as fast as possible, only concerned about the technicalities—me getting my sperm into her. Even with a ton of lubricant, which I’d insisted we use even though Sara was sure it would lower the chances of pregnancy, the ordeal was painful for her. I was so fucking done with it. If she didn’t get pregnant this time, I wasn’t sure what I would do. Maybe we simply needed to use medical help even though Sara wanted things to happen naturally for some superstitious reason. As if anything about our sex life felt natural.

Sara didn’t get pregnant yet again.

We didn’t talk about what that meant. I was half tempted to insist on a visit to the fertility center. I didn’t want a repeat performance. I didn’t want to keep feeling like I did that first horrible time. I was fucking done.

But I also wanted to salvage our marriage. I wanted us to become more than what we were. With how things were progressing, that would never happen.

“We can’t go on like this,” I told Sara the morning after her pregnancy test when I entered the kitchen. I knew she would simply continue living a separate life until her next fertile window rolled around and then have me mount her like a breeding bull, but I was done with this shit. I’d never had a problem with detached sex. I’d never sought an emotional bond with a woman. Sex had been enough. But sex had been fucking great back then. Sara wasn’t a fling, she was my wife, and I wanted more than the miserable marriage we currently led, more than the awkward and painful sex. And I knew I would have to be the one to take the reins to make that happen. For Sara, sex had no good connotation. It was my job to change that, even if I was also the reason it was bad in the first place.

Sara looked up from her spot at the kitchen table, where she clung to her coffee mug. “What do you mean?”

I motioned my pointer finger between us. “I mean this. We’re married. I know we had a horrible start, but I don’t want things to keep being horrible. I want a real marriage. I want you to feel like my wife, not a stranger.”

I could see the questions in her eyes.

I sat across from her. “And I’m not talking about sex, okay? I’m talking about us never spending time together.”

For Sara to ever be comfortable having sex with me, she needed to be comfortable in my presence. We needed to become more than strangers.

“We could watch a movie together when you come home tonight from work,” Sara suggested softly. I was glad she was open to the idea.

“What kind of movies do you like to watch?” I asked. I dreaded a romantic movie marathon. I doubted we were ready to see happy couples on screen.

“I love historical movies.”

I chuckled because I should have seen it coming. She was majoring in art history, and most of the books in her room were historic tomes. “Okay,” I said slowly.

“What do you like?”

“Action movies, science fiction, fantasy.”

She looked thoughtful, then she shrugged. “Many historical movies have lots of action, and many series have a historical setting that is fantasy. Maybe we could start withSaving Private Ryan? I watched it a long time ago and loved it. I’d love to see it again.”

“Why not? I’ve never watched it.”

I came home with a bucket of chicken wings, and Sara had prepared mac ’n’ cheese to go with it. We settled on the sofa in front of the TV. Even though we were almost an arm’s length away, I counted it as a win. Still, I wanted nothing more than to reach over and pull Sara against me. She looked particularly beautiful tonight in a short, very soft white sweater and a purple corduroy skirt. She pulled her tight-clad legs under herself and gave me a small smile.

I was glad we’d opted for a movie and not a dinner that would burden us with conversation. I wanted our first dates to go smoothly and not end in utter awkwardness.

I switched on the movie.

Halfway through it, I raised my eyebrows at Sara. “This wasn’t what I expected from you.”

She tilted her head. “Because of its brutality?”

I nodded. I didn’t have trouble with ripped-off limbs, but I would have thought that Sara was too squeamish for it.

“History has many gruesome moments. You can’t study any kind of history without paying attention to the most barbaric moments in time. Do you hate it?”

“No, it’s actually quite entertaining.”

---