Page 89 of Chosen Road

“I’d be happy to.”

There was something to be said for standing up for yourself.

Chapter.28: Shame

Amber

The world felt new and friendly again.

Saturday morning, with Gus’s broad hand resting on the small of my back, we made our way to our coffee shop, a quick getaway before Gus took Alex out for the day.

My smile stretched from my face down deep into my soul. Right here, in this place with the smell of fresh coffee and baking, vanilla and sugar hanging in the air, the clatter of dishes, bubbling gurgles of coffee percolating, the door opening and closing, the barista joking and teasing, our table available, this was the sound and sight and smell of our history and our happiness.

“I wonder if we compiled all the hours we’ve spent here, how much of our lives have passed between these walls?”

He smiled down at me. “You can’t measure it in hours. My whole life happened between these walls. I met you at that table.” He pointed to our table, then pointed to a high top in the corner. “You told me about Alex at that table.”

I laughed at the memory. “You lifted me off the stool and transferred me to a regular chair.”

He grinned but defended his actions. “A pregnant lady should not be perched on the edge of a dangerously high stool!”

“I was only six weeks pregnant! He was barely a bean!”

“Were you wearing flip-flops?” he asked, then went ahead and answered himself. “Probably! You’re a liability in those on any day never mind pregnant.”

“Remember you tried to ban them?”

“It didn’t work,” he murmured, his eyes reflecting the heat we generated during that particular negotiation.

“One of my favorite memories of us,” I murmured back.

I looked forward to the resuming of our regular marital activities. If I described Gus as a flavor, vanilla would never make the cut. He demanded submission, and then he worshipped. He owned my body and he treated it as, and better than, his own.

He held out a chair for me. “Let’s grab this while it’s available and I’ll make the order.”

Conversation flowed as easily as it had before the fracture of our relationship.

Truth niggled at my consciousness. Perhaps the fracture was less like a Jacqueline-shaped horizontal line dividing our relationship into before and after, and more like cracks spreading over the surface of thin ice, the surface giving under the weight… of what? Under the weight of what? My heart rate spiked as I contemplated the factors leading to our separation. Was it my suspicions? My schedule? His withdrawal?

In therapy, Laura mentioned the importance of taking note of my emotions and possible triggers to my abandonment issues before they manifest as behaviors. Anxiety tightened my chest, while the urge to escape tingled along my limbs.

Pictures pushed at my brain, and I pushed them back fiercely.

“Where’d you go, beautiful?”

I focused on his beloved face and smiled. “Nowhere. Just wandering down memory lane.”

“Anywhere I’d like to go?” he asked lightly, but his eyes revealed his worry and disbelief.

“No, agapimeno.” I contemplated brushing it under the rug, but part of my therapy was learning to trust by sharing bits of information that were not too scary. “Just thinking about some things I discussed in therapy-”

“Hello, Gus. Amber.”

I cut myself off at the sound of that voice and twisted to look up at her, horrified that she may have heard me. She’d taken enough of what was mine, she couldn’t have my intimate thoughts.

My eyes flew to Gus, who sat looking at her with a look of annoyance on his face, his jaw tight.

“I’m glad to see you’re back together,” she said to me, and my mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

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