Page 79 of Forever and Ever

I’m not sure why she has this cookie-cutter view of me. Yes, I might have come from the kind of family she envisions, but it’s also the reason I know why the façade can be such a load of bullshit. Just because you have both parents doesn’t make them unconditionally loving. And just because you have a few siblings doesn’t mean you have anything in common with them.

If I wanted the guarantee of a house in the suburbs and a wife in the kitchen, I would have gotten back together with Kali.

I know Merry well enough to not be delusional about the life I’m walking into with her. She’s non-traditional. She’s unpredictable. She’s real. It’s why I love her.

But what did surprise me in Merry’s confession was how she spoke about a future with me. Truth buried under lies she doesn’t recognize. For the first time since I met her, I got the impression the future she talks down on isn’t something she doesn’t desire because she doesn’t want it. It’s because she doesn’t think she can have it.

Her confession broke something inside me because I felt a pain in her I didn’t know existed.

Merry cried.

She doesn’t cry—ever.

To hold her in my arms with her eyes leaking might as well have been her heart bleeding all over both of us.

It hurt to know she convinced herself I would reduce her in my mind to anything less than the woman she is just because she can’t have children. It’s not who I am or who I’ve ever been.

I meant what I said as we stood there in the forest, I’m in this. I’m not like my parents, my love isn’t conditional, and if she thinks this will push me away, she’s going to quickly discover how wrong she is.

I finally have her.

Merry is mine.

I’m not letting her go.

But right now, my feelings aren’t what’s important, because I’m realizing there’s a struggle she’s kept quiet longer than I’ve noticed. And now that she’s voiced it, it’s like something deep inside her cracked open, and I don’t want her to spill out all the good in her because of it.

I’m not sure what the right thing to say is in this kind of situation. I’ve battled my own depression, but it’s not the same. Merry seems to be equating her ability to have children to her worth in a relationship, and all I can do is prove that’s not the case.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me from the other side of the couch.

“Like what?” I play dumb, really wishing I wasn’t a recovering addict, because all I want right now is something to take the edge off and it’s not an option.

Merry kicks me with her foot. “You knowlike what. Like I’m sick or broken or something.”

I ignore her comment. “Has the doctor called you back yet?”

I’m not purposely looking at her in whatever way she’s interpreting as bad, but right now, it’s all I can think about. Merry might need to get surgery again, and depending on the severity of the outcome, it has the potential to be life-changing. Yet, here she is, in Colorado, acting like everything is fine. It’s frustrating.

Regardless of how much she wants to brush this off, she almost collapsed the other day. She’s not okay, and now that I know what’s actually going on, she can’t lie to me and pretend everything is fine. If what caused her enough pain she couldn’t stand wasn’t period cramps, then it’s nothing good.

We can’t sit around recording albums pretending this isn’t happening, even if it means I’m going to piss her off by asking her the same question again and again.

“It was late when I called.” Merry shakes her head. “He’s probably already left for the night, and he’ll call in the morning.”

“Adrian will understand if we need to head to Seattle.”

That gets me a hard eye roll.

“First of all, I’m sure it’s fine, and this can wait until I’m done recording the demo.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Second, what do you meanwe? You have an album to record, one people are actually waiting on and care about. The band needs you. If I have to head up there, I’ll go alone. Monica and Carson have a room I can stay in. Besides, even if my parents aren’t thrilled with me, they’ll be there. I don’t need both of us putting our lives on hold.”

Try to hold it in.

Try to understand.

Try to not flip the fuck out.

My brain is fuming and it’s taking every ounce of control to not yell at her right now for being so dense. She’s still treating us like two people in passing, whether she means to or not. And it’s infuriating.

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