Written By: Jelisha J.
Copywright 2007
Prologue
The existence of him and I lingers on me like the aftermath of a near perfect kiss. I know nothing but of him and I and what we have given to one another for so long. I can't rememeber a time when he wasn't here by my side, guiding me, directing me in the right path. We've been friends forever, lovers for a decade and husband and wife for years and still...I feel somewhat distanced from him; I know we should be closer, more intimate, more welcoming to the idea that we are destined to be together for the rest of our lives but even though he never speaks of it and neither do I...there is reservations in our hearts, our souls.
I'm only twenty-four and my very short years of life, I have built my entire essence around my husband - with him, I am safe, with him, I am secure, with him...I know I am loved, enough; what we share isn't exciting or something to run home about and tell the world but we have the comfort of knowing that even though no one else might want us...we will always have each other. It doesn't sound so romantic or appealing once I say this now but it isn't supposed to - my marriage isn't based on the foundation of love, romance or even lust - we have more important things in hand - like a future, a purpose.
I once hesitated when he first purposed - I was seventeen at the time and he had been the only man I've ever kissed, ever let touch my flesh underneath my clothes, ever made love to, ever loved, period; I wanted to marry him, I knew it would be the best thing to do, the safe thing to do but still my heart lingered for a sign, any sign that maybe I was so wrong and that I was too young to be married, too young to settle for one man for the rest of my life so early...but nothing happened, nothing changed. And so, I forged ahead with the plans he and I had made so long ago, when we were just children playing in a sandbox wide-eyed and clueless to how much those teasing words we shared would be our reality.
I never knew my father - he had been diagnosed with lung cancer the day that my mother found out that she was pregnant with their first and only child - instead of rejoicing with happiness of my impending birth, my mother consumed herself with aiding to my father's ailing health; just like my husband has been all that I know, my father had been the only man my mother has ever loved. Two weeks before my birth, he died suddenly, quickly, one minute he laid wrapped up in my mother's arms laughing, and then the next minute...he's dead.
At the mere mention of my engagment, I had secretly desired that she forbidden me from seeing him anymore, instead she encouraged me to hold on to my man tightly and cherish the moments I had with him because they could be so quickly taken away in a fleeting second; this is true, I know, but I still believed that at seventeen, no one surely knows for sure if they're meant to spend the rest of their life being devoted as a wife.
Until this very day since I made that oh so very important committment to him and myself - I have never left his side, truthfully, I don't know how to; I think once you surround your life around being everything someone else wants you to be...you lose yourself in the process, and maybe thats what happened to me, but then I wonder...who was I before I met my husband? I can't even remember. I spend my days catering to desires and I'm not talking sexually - intimacy isn't so crucial in my marriage, in fact, my husband and I really don't commit to anything sexual unless its a holiday or our anniversary. I never have the urge of anything more, because I know of nothing more but kisses on the cheeks and soft pats on my knees, reassuring me that I will be his forever.
There is sometimes an ache in my belly, an ache so deep that I feel only a child can heal - but children are out of the question, at least for now, they are; my husband's profession is so hectic, so unstable that he doesn't have the time, as of now, to devote his many nights to raising offspring. And I agree with him...somewhat - the many weeks that my husband stays away and travels to sell our crops off of our farm are the weeks I spend lonely, extremely lonely; he is all that I have and when he is gone...I am nothing. I don't know what to do with myself when he is away, I'm not sure what my interests are besides tending to my garden and taking care of our dogs.
Its not like I haven't tried to do something with myself... I have, there was once a time in my life that I began doing research on junior colleges in my small, secluded town but this quickly ended when my husband encouraged me to instead focus my attention on the crops that need planting, the crops that need watering, the crops that need picking and thus, it has become me, even though I'm not quite sure if I want it to be me.
I am grateful for my marriage - I am grateful that unlike majority of the population, my husband and I rarely disagree with one another and the love is still there - sometimes I know people question what exactly kind of "love" that we have for each other and I don't pay it any mind. I know we're not exactly normal and maybe we're a bit off but we do love each other, very much - he is the only person who has paid me the slightest bit of attention since life was breathed into me. He is my life and I am his and that is love. It has to be.
I've never been attracted to another man because I'm not truly interested in anything but what my husband gives me which is devotion and security and its not like I have ever had men knocking on my door when I was teenager; I'm okay to look at, I guess, I mean, my husband says I would look so much more pretty if I let down my long locks for once instead of having it all up in a tight, secure bun and stop wearing unflattering long, heavy-set dresses but I refuse to do this - married women are not meant to dress provocative, married women aren't meant to be "pretty" and I will never play that role. I don't wear make-up and I refuse to drink anything of the alcohol substance unless my husband is present. Its out of respect.
Married Tennessee women are forever devoted to their husbands and hopefully, in return, their husbands reciprocates the admiration - I got lucky with my man...I never worry of him wandering to another for affection because he takes his vows just as seriously as I do, besides most women consider my man to be "big" and "goofy" looking but I pay no mind to the town gossip because in these wide eyes of mine...my husband represents the average man working to make a life for his family. You have to love that about a man.
So now, as I prepare myself mentally for yet another month of being away from him, I ache in pain. I always dread the moment he leaves because it means I am left to my thoughts, my dreadful thoughts and and they sometimes frighten me. It wouldn't be so bad if my mother stayed nearby, but after I got married, she saw no reason of living her lonely life here in Memphis any longer and she took the first flight out and headed to Denver to shack up with her younger sister - we keep in touch from time to time and sometimes, I wish she'd ask me to leave, to escape while he's away, and maybe that'll give me an excuse to find some sort of purpose for my life but she never does. It shouldn't be so bad since I have my best friend, my only friend besides my husband, Danielle Roberts, and she brings some sort of much needed comfort while he's away.
I've known Dani since we were children with big dreams of falling in love when we're thirty but never getting hitched (ironic much?) - most people around here look at me like I'm crazy for the decisions I've made over the past couple of years but Dani has remained the same, so true, so constant, never changing. I know sometimes she wishes to guide me away from my sheltered life but instead she keeps her thoughts to herself and provides me with warmth and understanding; Danielle will make things more easy for me while he's away, it just rattles me that this will be the longest time that he will be away from me. A month? It seems like an eternity.
Last night, I had the urge to make love to my husband, something I never feel, but I knew it would be the last time I felt his flesh against my own for a whole four weeks and I had wanted to savor the memory in mind, in my soul, in my grasp, never letting it go. I never make the first move when it comes to pursuing him, he always writes down the time and place when we will be intimate and its just agreed on by me - its always on paper, our sexual advances but last night, I wanted to shake things up slightly. I wanted to be somewhat like a normal couple and have him take me no matter if we set up an "appointment" or not.
My nerves were slightly disorientated when claimed that it wasn't best to mess up our routine and throw things off balance - for the first time in my life...last night, I had wanted him more than I ever had and yet it stll wasn't good enough because I forgot to write it down on a piece of paper. I knew then that it was better to stick to the way things were and forever will be. What good is it to disrupt something that has been working so well for the past seven years?
"Kenzie?" I'm startled by his worried tone as my eyes immediately find his own.
I almost immediately move to his side as he begins closing various suitcases that are laid out across our living room floor. My chest burns with anxiety. "Yes?" I choke out, nervously.
His brown eyes brighten suddenly and he pats me on the shoulder softly, "You're going to be okay."
I nod my head in agreement - I know I will. I have to be. I just...need him here with me. I always need him.
"I know." I respond, quietly.
As he moves his things to the front door, I have the urge to kiss him. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him near to me, close. But I know that this isn't possible. Its not even conceivable.
Its just not how our love works.
"Come here, honey." I move to him and his lips find my forehead and he places a soft, quick, kiss upon it. I close my eyes, trying to savor this moment but it proves to be too fleeting as he grabs his belongings and moves outside. I lean my small frame agaisnt the door post, arms folded in front of my small chest as he turns around briefly, smiling. We don't well with goodbyes. "I love you." He mumbles out quickly and my heart jumps.
Its very rare that we say these things to each other and when we do, it always reassures that our love is real, that it will stand the test of time, that it will last beyond our years. A forced smile makes it way onto my features and I sway my body back and forth on the balls of my toes. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I just have to say it back. I need to say it before he leaves. It'll give me hope. It'll reassure my mind.
I step out onto our lawn, so freshly cut. My arm grasps out to him, and I breathe out deeply as I see his vehicle begin to back out of our driveway. No! My mind is racing as I move my bare feet across the grass, quickly, on a mission. "Love you!" I yelp out in disdain, but its too late...he's gone.
Please come back, I want to say, please return to me. But I can't say anything as I force myself to turn back around to my home, my lovely home and force my unshed tears not to fall. I shut the door to my home as I step inside and inhale deeply, trying to even out my labored breathing. It hurts saying goodbye, it does, it hurts even worse when you're not sure if you have future without that person by your side and thats me, thats always me.
But my emotions won't get the best of me - thats a unspoken rule in our home - we never let our emotions show; we have to be strong for each other and in the midst of that, there is no time for tears and sadness, no time to mourn or be depress, there is only time to be his wife and he, my husband. I purse my lips together as I gather myself together and I force myself to start working on dinner for just myself as I push my feelings of lost aside and bury it in the back of my mind.
Life goes on and I'm used to this - who knows? This month might pass by without me even blinking, or at least I'm hoping it will.
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