Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
twenty-seven
. . .
Maren
Ghosts
I feel better with each passing day.
Luckily, neither the cramping nor the bleeding have returned. I read that lots of women experience a second trimester “boost” and they get their energy and appetites back after a first trimester plagued by exhaustion, nausea, and insomnia.
I’ve definitely found this to be true. I’m sleeping well, eating well, and generally feeling more like myself than I have in months. My bump has popped, and Katie and I love feeling the baby move together.
We also love to shop at our local Homegoods, where I pick out small things to accompany our interior designer’s concept for the nursery, and Katie picks out toys she and her brother or sister can play with together.
School is going all right. I’m not crushing it, but I am on schedule to graduate in May. I ordered a cap and gown for the ceremony, which Mom and Dad plan to attend. They’ve come over a couple times since the hospital to bring food and hang with Katie. Our visits have been a little tense, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.
Paige has been an incredible resource for figuring out what I want to do after graduation. She’s hooked me up with so many great people to talk to, from the dean of admissions at a local private school to the various coaches she employs at her gym.
For the first time in a while, I find myself getting excited about my future career. There are so many cool and impactful things other than teaching in a classroom that I can do with my educational background and experience. I just need to start.
Really, life would be pretty damn good if it weren’t for the glaring change in Tuck. Ever since the hospital, he’s been distant. He still feeds me. Still opens doors and refills my water glass. But outside of small talk, he hasn’t said a word to me. Not about anything real.
We also haven’t had sex. The man won’t even touch me. At first, he said he didn’t want to risk me getting another bleed. But even after I was cleared by Dr. Yelich for sex, Tuck has kept to his side of the bed.
The sense of loss I feel is profound. It’s like my best friend went missing, or he underwent a lobotomy. A switch went off that night at the hospital, and no matter how many times I try to talk to him, try to ask him how he’s feeling or what’s going on inside his head, he refuses to acknowledge that anything’s wrong.
I was so scared of Tuck doing another one-eighty and going cold again. My worst fears are coming true.
“I’m just worried about you and the baby,” he’ll say. “Now sit down and put your feet up.”
Katie notices it too. He still has his moments of playfulness with her. But they’re short, and few and far between. She’ll ask him to cuddle with her, which he would do all the time before the hospital. But these days, he’ll just give her a hug before saying some bullshit about having to work.
I do my best to compensate for him. It seems like my belly gets bigger and more unwieldy every day, but I still get on the floor with Katie. We still practice our cheers. I cuddle with her every chance I get.
All the while, Tuck’s distance, his refusal to talk, fans the embers of my hurt into a full-blown fire of anger. I’m lonely. I’m scared. I want to give Tuck time to process everything that happened that night, but Katie and I need him. It’s not fair for him to check out like this.
By the second week of no talking, no sex, and no sense of any connection between Tuck and me at all, I snap.
We used to go to bed together at the same time every night. But lately, Tuck begs off by saying he wants to hit the gym to work off stress. I end up falling asleep alone. I wake up alone too. I’d wonder if Tuck even sleeps in our bed anymore if the sheets weren’t rumpled on his side of the mattress in the morning.
I’m grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen when Tuck comes upstairs from putting Katie down.
“Hey,” I say.
He glances at me and scratches the back of his head. “Hey. She went down fine.”
“She should be tired. We had a long day.”
I wait for him to ask about it. He doesn’t. Instead, he pops a cinnamon Altoid in his mouth, cracking it between his teeth as he starts going through the stack of mail on the counter.
“She pooped her pants. Twice.”
“Really?” He doesn’t look up from the envelope he’s opening.
I want to scream. At the same time, I want to mount him like a tree. For the first few months of dating, we didn’t go a single day without having sex, and now it’s been weeks. I’m horny as hell, and Tuck looks so good.