By MrsKateChasez
Well, she did it. She finally did it. She left me. She’s gone.
I should have known, I should have suspected it was coming. Hell, I’m not stupid. I saw the way she looked at me, the way she longed for me to pay attention to her. Just one look. One look from me-- a look to reassure her that she wasn’t wasting her time, wasn’t being under-appreciated-- and perhaps she wouldn’t have left me here, alone and so cold. If I would have just looked at her, sitting so patiently in my chair, waiting for me to finish, maybe even smiled, she wouldn’t have deserted me. Maybe if I would have been thinking of someone else but me, I wouldn’t be by myself. All it would have taken was just some sign of acknowledgement, a sign that I still loved her, still cared about her, maybe then she wouldn’t have decided to go.
I could have wandered over to where she was sitting in my chair during the shoot. I could have eaten my dinner with her outside at the tables they set up for us. But no, I had decided to just grab a power bar and work through dinner while she ate the meal that the catering company had prepared for all of us. I didn’t actually grab real food until well after she had gone home. I also could have given her a quick kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the arm before I had to be on camera again. I mean, God, I’m such a shit-ass husband. She took a day off of work to take a long weekend to go to California with me for the video shoot; it was the least I could do.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. None of it makes a difference. I’m an asshole and I know it. I just realized it too late. Actually, what I realized too late was that Natalie deserves better than me. She deserves someone who pays attention to her and who loves her the way she should be loved. Natalie deserves someone who would tell everyone what a great person she is, someone who would rather die than see her in any kind of pain. I’ve blown it. Nat knows that even though I say I’m busy and tired and I don’t even have enough time for myself, she knows that if I care enough, I’ll make the time. And this time, I screwed up. Royally. I didn’t give her time. My time.
Natalie. I sit here on the bed we’ve shared for years, thinking of nothing but her and who I am. The bed that we’ve shared through the phases we’ve gone through together: just friends, friends with benefits, boyfriend and girlfriend, engaged to be married, and finally, husband and wife. I can still smell her perfume lingering in the room, taunting me, reminding me of what I’ve done.
It still amazes me she’s stuck with me through it all. After the late-night calls, broken promises, forgotten anniversaries, she stayed with me. She was always there by my side, ready to support me in every one of my endeavors. No questions asked… for the most part. She had always been so self-less, perhaps to make up for my sense of selfishness. Again, I’m a shit-ass husband.
We’ve been married for a little over two years. We’re still newlyweds practically, and I’m not talking Nick & Jessica. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife; Natalie is top notch. She knows me and I know her. She can read me even when I sometimes wish she couldn’t. She gets along with most everyone and I haven’t really ever met anyone who could say a bad thing about her, except for Trace, when he comments on her ability to deal with my array of shit, and even that isn’t that negative. Natalie is simply amazing.
When it comes to dealing with me, Natalie does the best she can. I’m not a typical guy, as if you didn’t know. However, since we’ve been married, I’ve toned it down a bit. I’m not gone as much as I used to be, and when I am gone I call all the time. Mostly just to hear her voice, which is soft and warm. Like honey. That voice of hers puts me at ease, relaxes me when I’m stressed, assures me that there’s more to life than stardom, comforts me when I’ve had a bad day and makes me fell whole again. When she talks to me, I can honestly feel all of the tension I feel leave my body. I lay down on my bed in the bus with my cell phone against my ear and listen to her as she explains to me what her kindergarteners did that day (she’s a teacher, you know). When I hear her light hearted giggle my stomach still does a bit of a wiggle, like it’s dancing. Sort of like that feeling you get when you ride elevators and right before you get to your floor, you know what I’m talking about? Well, it’s like that… but in a good way. When she tells me about one of the kids eating some glitter during an art project, I don’t smile because of the situation, I smile because it tickled her so. That laugh of hers makes my heart soar.
Like I said, Nat does the best she can. I know that there are times when I really hurt her feelings and do things to purposely annoy her, but I love her. She lets me know when I’m pissing her off and when she’s upset because I’ve forgotten a memory or something, although her ways of letting me know are all but obvious. She usually pouts for a little bit then avoids my eyes and speaks as little as possible. It’s torture. When I upset her, I promise myself I’ll never do it again because it actually pains me to see her like that. It actually hurts when she won’t speak to me, like she’s taking away my breath. And when she won’t look at me it’s as though I’m living in complete darkness. At the end of the day, though, I’m not perfect and I can’t keep every promise I make; I’m bound to screw up once in a while.
I often wonder why she chose me. I wonder why she decided to be with a man who’s gone half the year over a guy who could be with her almost always and love her every day. Granted, I do love her everyday, but it’s not the same. It’s not the kind of love I know she deserves. Natalie deserves someone who can be there every morning when she wakes up. She deserves someone who will tell her every night before she drifts off to dreamland that he loves her as she snuggles up to him. She deserves someone who will sit with her, on a regular Saturday night, watching movies at home after a quiet dinner, playing with her hair.
All of those things I just said are things that I actually do. Just not all the time. I often help around the house, offering to help make dinner with her although usually just to make a mess and get it all over her. After that happens, we usually make out for a while (which is still fun, thank you very much) then go back to cooking, while I clean up the crap on the floor that I dropped there. I love the way she snuggles up to me too. I like that she whispers in my ear right before we go to sleep and the way she hooks her pinky through mine. I like the way her hair falls naturally, cascading waves down her back. I like the thickness and texture of it. It’s soft and smooth and long. It’s easy to wrap around my fingers and thick when I twirl it.
Natalie is gorgeous, and it’s not just because of her looks but because I love her. And when I say that, I mean that I love her despite her looks, which are breathtaking. She’s got these amazing eyes. Really. They’re warm and happy. Her eyes are a light blue color, something mine aren’t. Man, though, when she’s mad, they’re no longer warm. They’re icy. Frigid. It’s awful; I hate it when that frosty glare is directed at me, which most of the time it is. Aside from her eyes and hair, Natalie has perfectly shaped eyebrows and high cheekbones. She also has a nose so cute it makes me just want to take it and put it in my pocket. Okay, so that didn’t really make as much sense as I would have hoped, but whatever. Her lips are amazing too, and trust me because I know. They’re full and soft, like everything else now that I think about it. They also always have a sweet taste to them, and I’m not sure if that’s just lip gloss or if her lips just naturally taste like that. I guess it doesn’t really matter.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier; I saw warning signs, I just never put two and two together. She had been quiet during the trip out to California. She said, when I asked about it on the plane, she just had a headache. I believed her, I didn’t have any reason not to. Besides her being quiet, she and I have been arguing more and more lately. At first I just thought it was PMS or some other woman thing I don’t really understand or want to know about. Then, I had it in my head that I was just being irritating. I tried saying nice things, not ‘helping’ out in the kitchen while she made dinner and staying out of her way for a while. And, well, like I said about the video shoot, I avoided her. I guess she just took it as me not loving her the way I used to. Maybe she thought I was having second thoughts.
About a month ago she asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell her. I looked at her funny, wondering where in the hell she came up with that kind of shit, and told her no, there wasn’t anything. She simply raised her eyebrows and gave a quick nod. Later I found out it was her subtle way to ask me if I was having an affair. Like I’d ever do that. I may have strayed a bit with Britney, but that was after she cheated on me, as well as when Natalie and my relationship got physical.
I’ve known her a long time. I still remember the day we met, too. It was so random and when we go back and think about it, we both sort of question how the hell we ended up where we are. It went like this: I was in a pissy mood way back when and Britney had insisted on stopping at her favorite coffee place, the Coffee Bean. I just wanted to go home and I was pissed off because Britney had been whiney. I hate whining. Anyways, we stopped in and there she was. Sitting at a table with a couple friends, just sipping on an iced vanilla latte (which I found out later). What caught my attention most was her outburst, and it’s not what you’re thinking. She didn’t freak out or go teenybopper on me. She couldn’t have cared less about Britney and I walking into the café in jeans and baseball caps. She just started laughing really hard, one of those really fun, happy laughs. One that came from her belly about something that really tickled her. And it wasn’t quiet. No, it was loud. A few people in the shop stopped what they were doing and looked at her, some glaring, as her hand flew to her mouth to silence herself. That was when I looked at her like “What the hell is your problem?” but couldn’t hide my own smile. Something about that laugh hooked me, but I didn’t exactly know it then.
Soon, I found myself visiting the Coffee Bean without Britney, just to check if she was there. I was sitting at a table reading a book with my sunglasses resting on the tabletop and my hat hiding my face. She had seen me, on a couple occasions, looking at her, trying to get up my courage to just go over there and find out who she was and what she liked. She pulled out the chair opposite of mine and sat down, thumping her cup down on the table, forcing me to take my eyes off of my book. I looked up to see her face, noticing those blue eyes I told you about first.
“Is there something wrong with you?” she asked me, blunt right from the start. No bullshit with her.
I was flabbergasted, I had no idea what to say. I fumbled with my words, making sounds that made me sound learning impaired. “No,” I finally got out.
“Well,” she said, taking a sip really quickly. “the reason I ask is because I’ve noticed that you stare at me.”
Again, she had me speechless.
“Anyways,” she crossed her legs under the table, one of her legs brushing against mine in the process, “I’m Natalie.”
“Justin,” I nodded.
We were both silent for a moment, taking a sip of our beverages to ignore the silence. Next thing I know, she’s pulling a pen out of her purse and writing something on a napkin in front of her. When she finished, she stood up and shoved the napkin in front of me.
“Call me sometime,” she said coolly, “we can get coffee or something.” She gestured to her drink.
And that was it. She left. I sat there, staring at the napkin for only a minute before whipping out my phone and programming her number in the phonebook. I carefully folded the napkin and stuffed it in my pocket too, not really knowing why. When I got home, I stuck the napkin in one of my drawers and didn’t think about it for the rest of the day, but thinking about when a good time to call her would be. At that point, I can say that I was attracted to her, but really not interested in starting any kind of relationship other than platonic with her. She just seemed so fun that first time I saw her that I felt I needed someone like that in my life. Soon enough, she became my vice. I called her when I was annoyed, stressed, sad, happy, confused, depressed, excited, nervous… you name it, I felt it. And I talked to her. We could talk about anything and everything at any time of the day.
The fact that I was friends with her didn’t even bother Britney. The great thing was that even Britney adored her. They were great friends and instantly clicked. Everything was just so easy when she was around.
As time passed, we grew really close. She would come out on tour with me and the guys and just hang out. Like I said, she’s so personable that it’s easy for anyone to get along with her. The guys liked hanging out with her and I found out that she could hold a comfortable conversation with JC, Joey, Chris and Lance even when I wasn’t there. I often witnessed Nat kick the crap out of Chris playing PlayStation. One summer I asked her to join me on tour and, to my surprise, she told me she would. I didn’t actually think she would, but she did. Anyways, her going to UCLA was great for us because she was off for summers and that was when I was gone. I do have a point, really I do, I’m just having a little trouble getting to it.
Okay, where was I? Oh, her coming on tour with me. That summer was great, as I knew it would be. That summer Britney and I were having some tumultuous times and Nat was there for me to vent and whine. (Don’t judge me!) Well, she was there most of the time. Except for the times she was with Lance…. That was kind of weird for me to see. She and Lance hooked up for, like, a month and that was when I realized that I didn’t need Natalie as just a friend. Seeing her with one of my other best friends was like a kick in the stomach. I wasn’t sure why I was feeling like I wanted to punch Lance in the face, but I had a hunch it was because I was suddenly realizing that I not only loved Natalie as a friend, but there were stronger feelings there as well.
That was when she and I decided to figure out where we stood. I kissed her one night on the bus (after she and Lance’s hook-up fizzled away as quickly as it came) and there were some wandering hands, heavy breathing and more sucking face. Once Britney and I broke up that following spring, Nat and I decided we’d go further. After that, I knew I wanted to be with her.
Dating wasn’t that different than what we had been doing, and before we knew it, we’d been dating for a year. During that first year, we’d moved in together and she had gotten a teaching job in Orlando, which was great for both of us. That first year was also busy and we both kind of forgot about an anniversary, so a week later I took her out to dinner and then some. Not long after that first anniversary did I start to think about getting married. I told my mom that I was thinking of getting a ring for Natalie and asked her if she’d come with me to pick one out. Of course, Mom obliged and ended up helping me more than I thought. I was looking for big rocks, something I had always envisioned buying for my future wife. I’m talking J. Lo style. Huge. And expensive. It was my mom who steered me away from the big, heavy rings and to the simple, elegant and smaller diamonds. My mom told me that she thought that Natalie seemed like more of a smaller ring kind of girl. When I saw the ring I ended up buying I knew she was right.
I don’t get nervous that often, but the night I proposed I felt like I could have wet myself. Man, looking back at the night is painful. I was a basket case. I wanted the night to be something she’d always remember and be able to tell our kids about. But I also wanted it to be a surprise, so I tried to keep our nightly routine as normal as possible. Nat walked in the door around four thirty that afternoon and went upstairs and changed into jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. This was not part of my plan, she was not supposed to be wearing jeans! This was supposed to be something special, I kept thinking.
“Wanna go out on the boat?” I asked her from out of the blue. Subtlety isn’t one of my strong points.
She looked at me like I was crazy. “We never go out on the boat,” was all she said as she turned her attention back to the book she was reading.
“So?” I asked, “Do you wanna go?”
She looked at me and frowned slightly. “No.” She shook her head. “Not really.”
Okay, I thought. This isn’t exactly going according to plan. Here I was, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt, ready to propose while the woman I was proposing to was curled up on the couch in jeans and sweatshirt reading. Very nice.
“Well,” I told her, “I wanna go, so let’s go.”
She made a face at me and made me feel really stupid. Nevertheless, she followed me out to the car, but sat silently in her seat, reading. When we got there, at the dock, I checked my pocket to make sure I had the ring. I did. We walked out to the boat hand in hand as she skipped a little bit out to the boat. She noticed that there was already a cooler filled with snacks and beverages and asked if I had been at the boat all day. I told her I had, which wasn’t a complete lie. We’d been floating around for a while when she finally asked me why I was ‘dressed up’. I ended up telling her that I was gonna go something special for her and that she was supposed to be wearing something to her than jeans and a sweatshirt.
That was also when she saw the two champagne glasses and the bottle of champagne itself.
“Oh my, God,” she said, her mouth opening slightly in disbelief as her hand rested over her heart. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
Surprise. I shrugged and smiled dully. “I think that depends on what you think I’m doing.”
Her eyes widened and she didn’t move.
I smiled at her expression and stood in front of her. I slowly got down on one knee and heard her take a quick breath. It was shaky and I knew that she was excited / nervous. I pulled out the ring and opened the little box. She took another deep breath and her eyes sparkled with tears. Her jaw dropped a little more as her hand covered her mouth.
“Marry me?” I asked simply.
Apparently, it was all I had to do because she nodded and threw her arms around my neck.
A year and a half later we were married. It felt good to call her my wife. So good. Introducing her to people was fun. Hello, it’s so nice to see you again, this is my wife Natalie. And holidays? Don’t even get me started. We were together all the time; Christmas, thanksgiving, birthdays, you name and we got to be together. We were together through not-so-happy times too, like when Natalie’s grandmother passed away. I didn’t really know the woman, but Natalie did and she was absolutely crushed when it happened. It felt good to be there for her when she needed me. When she was grieving and so sad, she turned to me, her husband. She cried into my chest as I sat and rocked her with my arms around her until she stopped.
The phone just rang, no doubt it’s my mother. I didn’t pick up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. I decide that pacing around the kitchen and opening and closing the refrigerator door to find something to eat only to find I’m not hungry at all is doing me no good. I sit down on the comfy couch in our living room, the couch we cuddle on while we watch movies on Saturday nights because we pretend we’re old. Maybe we don’t even need to pretend. I guess it doesn’t matter. My cell phone just started ringing. I stand up, take it out of my pocket, and without looking to see who the caller is, I chuck it across the room and it crashes against the wall, breaking and cracking as it hits the hardwood floor on it’s way down.
I go back to our bedroom. Somewhere along the way of my trip down memory lane I had exited our room. It feels good to be in the room in which we spent most of our time. I wander into the connecting bathroom and stare at the first piece of evidence that she left to tell me she was never coming back to me. It was the symbol that had met me right when I got home. I hadn’t even gone anywhere else; our bedroom was the first place I went when I got home. You must be wondering what the evidence is. The evidence is really two things. Her rings. The beloved engagement ring that she had shown everyone, not because it was me she was marrying, but because she had found someone who she loved and was looking forward to sharing her life with.
I pick up the princess-cut diamond surrounded by several smaller diamonds set in a thin platinum band and hold it in my hand. Next, I pick up the wedding band and close my fingers around them. My love. My life, my sun, my moon. My day, my night; my heart and soul. Almost immediately my throat constricts, the feeling of tears. My eyes sting with tears but I stubbornly wipe my eyes. Get a grip, man, I think.
I carefully set her rings down where I found them. I don’t want to disturb them. Next, I walk to the shower, where I straighten her belongings. Line them up by height. After that’s done, I walk out of the bathroom, taking one last look at the rings sitting on the counter by her sink. I straighten out the duvet on our bed and smooth out the corners. I rearrange the pillows and make sure they look inviting, just in case she stops by to get some things she might have forgotten, thinking that I might not be home quite yet.
I make sure to shut the drawers of the dresser in our room so no clothing is sticking out and then folded the laundry that was draped over the chair in the corner, on the floor in front of the closer as well as the clothes on the floor inside the closet. I hung things up and put them where they belonged, the way Natalie liked things. The way we both liked things. Luckily, we’re both relatively neat freaks, but it’s something we don’t admit out loud, for fear that it’s true.
Once I’ve finished our bedroom, I plan to go out to the kitchen and unload the dishwasher. It’s psychotic that I feel that if I clean up, put everything in it’s place, everything in order, she’ll come back to me. I know that it’s psychotic, but it’s all I have to hang on to. She left me cold.
I’m an addict. Natalie’s my dealer as well as my drug of choice.
“Jesus Chris,” I hear a woman say and slam the door.
I know that voice. My head snaps in her direction to face her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks me, clearly pissed off. Her cell phone is in her hand, her hands stretched out to the sides and boring her eyes into mine incredulously. “I called you, like, seven times!”
I don’t say anything.
“Speak!” she shouts, “Say something!”
I feel so relieved. “Natalie,” I whisper with a small smile. I take a few steps towards her. Her angry face breaks and doesn’t even try to hide her smile. She wraps her arms around me and I revel in the bliss I feel in her arms. “I love you.”
Natalie backs away from me and tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what’s happened to me. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
I shrug. “Thought it was my mom.”
She looks at me strange, but decides not to press the matter. “I’m glad you’re home, baby,” she smiles and hugs me again.
We kiss for a while, I’m not sure how long, but when we peel ourselves away from each other we’re breathing hard and Natalie’s jacket and tee shirt are laying on the kitchen floor, leaving her only in a white tank top.
“Where were you?”
“I got held up at school,” she explains, snuggling into my chest as we sit on the couch. “Then I had to run to the grocery store ‘cuz I knew you were coming home and then your mom called, so I went over there to lay out with her and read my book so I wasn’t by myself. I lost track of time.”
I sigh a breath of relief inadvertently.
“And when I was over there, we realized I wasn’t even wearing my rings,” she laughed a little. “I had forgotten I had taken them off when I was putting lotion on before I left. It was your mom who was like, ‘where are your rings, darlin’,’” Natalie laughed, impersonating Lynn. “I looked down and panicked until I remembered about the lotion and stuff.” She stops talking for a minute and the kisses my hand. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I’m glad I’m home too,” is all I say.
“I missed you.”
I kiss the top of her head. I bask in my glory, my life seemed to fit back together so easily. I decide not to tell Natalie that I had suspected she left me. It takes her a few minutes to notice my cell phone still in pieces on the floor. She says something about that being the reason I didn’t pick up, then asks me why it was broken. I simply tell her that I threw it at the wall because I was in a bad mood. She doesn’t press me for the reason, merely commenting on that we’ll have to get me a new one.
You must be wondering by now how I had jumped to the conclusion that she left me, instead of thinking that she was at the store or out with friends. Well, my friend, I have an answer for you. Besides the rings I found, there was, like, zero food in our house and she had been home for almost a week. It’s never like that. Even if she hadn’t gone to the grocery store in the time she had been home, there were at least some take out boxes in the fridge, but this time there were none. Warning bell number two. Number three was that I could not find her luggage anywhere. I still don’t know where it is, but that could be because she has her own way of putting things away. I guess that I just had a gut feeling that she was gone, but my gut instinct turned out to be wrong, and thank God for that.
I kiss her hand and tell her I love her one more time.
It’s times like these, times when we reunite after a few weeks of not seeing each other, only talking on the phone, hating the distance between us, do the tingles fly through my body at full force.
The truth remains you’re…
