An Unconditional Love Excerpt

Aveline

As I wrote down what I needed from the grocery store, I heard Dustin coming down from upstairs. I suppressed the urge to run. I didn’t know if he had been awake through the night, but it had been obvious this morning that he knew what had happened last night. I couldn’t have resisted if I tried; I had finally admitted to myself that I needed my husband by my side, and I had craved his contact until I had given into the need by scooting closer to him.

 As I finished the list, I glanced up to see Dustin watching me from the doorway. His face was expressionless; I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Did you need something?” I asked, finding my voice.

“Want me to stop by the store?” He asked. I could tell he was on his way to work by the way he was dressed.

 I shook my head, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure because if you-”

“I’m capable of doing it myself.” I cut in, suddenly perturbed at his implication.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Then just don’t.” I didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m just trying to help.” His expression grew stormy.

“Maybe I don’t want your help.” I replied, suddenly feeling like we were talking about something completely different than some grocery shopping.

“Aveline, what is this? You expect me to help you, but then you push me away?”

“Oh, I push you away?” I tried covering up my hurt with sarcasm, “Well excuse me if I’m not the loving wife you thought I was.”

 I watched as his expression became angry and then frustrated. I felt myself starting to shrink with fear, but I tried not letting it show. He was way bigger than I was, and I had never seen him this angry.

“I know exactly who I married.” His voice was dangerously low.

“Apparently you don’t.”

“What about last night?”

 I felt my stomach drop. He knew, he had been awake, “Don’t you dare bring that up.” I raised my voice.

 He jerked his hands up, “Fine! I’ll let you be. I’ll see you later.”

 He left the house with a slam on the door; it resounded like the way my heart was breaking in two.

Hours Later…

 I felt like a pathetic mess as I brushed away more tears; and this time, it was for a completely different reason than yesterday.

 The fight with my husband had drained and hurt me. I had never fought with my husband like that; I felt horrible for doing it. He was only trying to help, and he had been right when he said I pushed him away; but he had also been wrong if he had meant that I was the only one pushing away.

 He hardly talked to me so how did he expect me to open up to him when he was constantly gone?

 I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, took a deep breath and went to my husband’s contact. I went to my messages and texted him: are u busy?

 I waited for him to answer, wondering what his response would be. I saw the message bubble go on and then off, indicating that he was texting. I bit my lip as I waited for his reply. I rubbed my eyes feeling them swollen from all the emotion.

 He finally answered: I’ll be right there.

 I sighed in relief; he had spared me the need to ask him to come home.

 Now all I had to do was wait until he got home, and I didn’t know what I would do in the meantime.

 I knew I had to apologize, but how was I supposed to do that when there was a huge gap of pain, loss, and hurt between us?

 I went downstairs to wait for him. Taking my time, I opened the front door and sat on one of the cushioned chairs on the shady porch.

 I noticed that my flowers and plants were dying, wincing internally at how wilted they had become. Instinctively I got up and headed inside, filling up a recycled container with water.

 Going back outside, I poured water on each plant as they soaked it in immediately.

 I reminded myself that I needed to water them again either later, or the next day. I set the container next to one of the plants and went to sit back down where I waited, watching the view from where I was. Our house was quite large and was located on the outskirts of the city, so there was much yardage around and between each house. I felt blessed that we had no financial problems, thanks to Dustin’s job as well as his parents who helped us out a little here and there. I looked at the sky, noticing the weather starting to turn chilly. It was late-September, and I knew that fall would be here soon.

 I wrapped my arms around my waist and looked down the street to see my husband’s car pulling up as my stomach tightened in nervousness. I didn’t know what I was going to say, all I knew was that I had to apologize and reconcile with Dustin.

 He got out of the car.

 I noticed that his expression was guarded. He wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily, not after what I had angrily told him.

 He stopped in front of me, waiting.

I swallowed and dared myself to look up at him. He didn’t look angry, but I knew he could hide his feelings well and then unleash suddenly. His eyes stared back and didn’t waver. I stepped closer to him, opened my mouth, and then closed it abruptly.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” rushed out from my lips. I looked away from his attentive gaze and waited for him to say something.

 He nodded, “I understand.”

 He didn’t make a move to hug me, and I felt terrible. I knew I didn’t deserve his forgiveness that easily.

“I’m going to be in the kitchen.” I said softly and retreated inside. He didn’t say anything, and I tried understanding his silence. He followed me inside and I could feel his over-powering presence behind me.

 I started making dinner since I hadn’t had anything to eat for lunch, and my stomach was growling.

 Glancing at the clock I saw that it was barely four in the afternoon. After a long moment, Dustin left the kitchen. I heard him rummaging through one of the closets in the hallway.

 I made some chicken and salad, taking my time with how I did everything. I set the table for the both of us, the entire time dreading how dinner was going to turn out.

 Once I served dinner, I went to look for Dustin. I found him outside, in his gym clothes and his back was soaking with sweat. He was punching the punching bag with so much force, I was surprised he didn’t hurt anything. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and I could tell he was giving it everything he had. I could hear his grunts from inside. Minutes passed by, and he continued. I waited him out and after a long moment he stopped but was breathing hard as he wiped his forehead with his arm. I was about to open the door when I noticed something that I hadn’t before: he had tears streaked on his cheeks; at first it looked like sweat, but no, they made a trail down his face.

 Oh, Love. I thought and just then I felt my heart break some more, but this time for my husband.

 I opened the door and headed towards him. He was in the middle of wiping his eyes when he looked up at me. His eyes were filled with sad tears, and I saw so much pain and hurt that mirrored my own. I didn’t say anything as I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, not minding a bit that he was soaked with sweat.

 He first hesitated, but then he hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered repeatedly.

“It’s okay.” He told me.

 I shook my head against his chest, “No, it’s not.”

 He didn’t reply, just rubbed my back, back and forth, with his hand. He pressed his cheek against the top of my head, and I felt moisture drop onto my head. I didn’t know if they were tears or sweat; I didn’t care.

 After a long time of holding onto him, I let him go.

“Want some dinner?” I asked quietly, not wanting to break this fragile moment.

“That would be amazing,” he answered.

 We went inside, and I wiped his moisture from my face.

 As we entered the kitchen, he said to me, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go change.”

 I sat down at the table, waiting for him.  I heard him run the shower in the bathroom downstairs and after a couple of minutes it went off. By the time he got back to the kitchen, the food was getting cold.

 He sat down in front of me, and for the first time in weeks, we prayed together. I slid his plate to him, and he took it. We didn’t say anything while we ate, but I could tell that the hole between us was starting to mend.

 We finished eating and cleaned up together.

“I’m going to bed.” I told him, as I started to leave the kitchen.

“I’ll be there, shortly.” He answered.

“Goodnight, Dustin.” I told him.

“Goodnight, Aveline.” He answered with a soft smile.

 I gave him a small smile in return and headed upstairs.