All That I Need (Secret Desires) (10 page)

I didn’t know what to think anymore. I lost all my fight, and finally gave in. While it certainly wasn’t my choice, I was glad to see Austin believing in himself and stepping up again. He’d struggled for so long, so that he was taking this initiative gave me hope that the old Austin would be back on a more regular basis. If only I could see him more than just weekends.

Those first few months were torture. I missed him so much, but as we settled into a routine, life went on. We spent a lot of time on the phone, and he was true to his word, he came home every chance he got. I felt bad that he had to commute constantly, but it was important for the kids, as well as our relationship.

Once the fourth month rolled around, I’d had enough. It was too much – and while Caroline and I had worked out a system that was working for us, and grown a bit closer, I missed my husband.

Finally after six months, he agreed it was time for us to join him. We’d rent the house for next year or two, until we knew if we’d be staying in Washington permanently, or heading back to our home. Selling too soon meant we’d lose money, so we decided to hold onto it a bit longer, and rent in DC. Austin had been in a small condo, but found us a home in a neighborhood, not too far from his work.

One of the things he’d taken to doing is stopping by the hospital and spending time with wounded warriors. Volunteering his time at night, and rebuilding a feeling of camaraderie with other soldiers seemed to strengthen him. He went over twice a week after work for an hour or two, and got to know some of the guys, and spent time helping others by offering a shoulder to lean on. He shared his own stories, and talked about struggling with Post-traumatic stress disorder, hoping it would help put others at ease, going through similar things.

Something happened in that time – more and more of my old Austin was coming back. In talking, and being there for others, he was healing himself, and found an inner strength that he once knew. I found myself falling in love with him all over again as he came back to the man I used to know.

I realized that while the job in Washington was incredibly difficult on me in the beginning, it was what gave Austin a piece of himself back. It was truly a blessing in disguise, and once we settled in, it didn’t matter if we were in Timbuktu, as long as I was at my husband’s side.

Caroline and I spent more time together, and something odd happened. We became friendly, and learned to trust and rely on each other as friends, as much as family. Not knowing anyone in our new neighborhood, we started doing things together, and realized that we could enjoy each other’s company when we stopped trying to compete.

That’s all it had been all this time – trying to be the most important female in Austin’s life. Once we dropped the need to be competitors, we become friends. I think it was forcing us to work through our issues when he left, and then moving to a new place together. We could either bend, or we could break. We both chose to bend.

I missed Heather dearly, but still talked to her on the phone. I knew I’d make other friends eventually, but she’d been my best friend for the last few years, and while Caroline and I had grown closer, there were still many things I couldn’t share with her – she was after all, Austin’s mother.

Chapter Twelve

When Austin’s contract came up for renewal, he signed on for three more years. He’d been doing so well; they skipped the year contract and snagged him for three. We were thrilled and decided it was time to sell our house and put our roots here.

Only our house wasn’t selling. Money was getting tighter, having to pay our mortgage along with our new rental. We thought for sure it would have sold by now, but the housing market was turning, and homes were staying on the market longer and longer. It was a buyer’s market, with a huge selection, and people slashing their prices to get movement.

We were torn between selling lower and losing money on our investment, or holding on and losing money paying for two places. It was a rock and a hard place, and we finally decided to drop our price to relieve some of the monetary stress that was staring at us.

When it finally sold there was incredible relief. We didn’t make what we wanted, but the pressure of having two homes was alleviated. It was one less thing to worry about. 

With the stress of selling our home behind us, things should have been great, only something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it seemed like no matter what issue we solved, it didn’t change how I was feeling inside.

Staying busy with the kids, Austin off at work, and his mom here, I didn’t take time to go out and make new friends. I thought about how much easier it was when I was younger, single, going out, having hobbies, interests, and yet these days the most exciting thing going on was planning a birthday party for my kids.

It’s not that I didn’t love my family and adore my kids, it’s just that I felt like I was losing my own identity. I had become a mother and wife, but I had no idea who Kate was anymore. Life was about keeping things moving along smoothly, which left little time for me.

I felt selfish when these thoughts would run through my mind, but in all honesty, without Heather nearby, or a new job and work acquaintances to talk to, I didn’t have any friends locally. I felt alone.

Caroline and I had some sort of balance and I could enjoy her company, but she didn’t fill the gap of a girlfriend, someone to laugh with and share stories or angst with. She was still Austin’s mom and that wouldn’t change. So no matter how much I relaxed around her, there was always a guarded exchange subconsciously about how much I’d say or what I’d talk about.

Time seemed to pass by, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling. I was left in a state of limbo internally. I couldn’t express it, but knew I didn’t feel like myself. Even things that should have made me happy didn’t touch me the way they used to. I felt almost like I was living in a monotone state of mind.

It was as if winning the lottery held the same excitement as going to the grocery store. It wouldn’t have mattered, because I was slowly going numb inside. Each day passed into the next, and I found my lack of emotion troubling. There was no joy, just simply getting by day to day.

We eventually traded our rental for a new home, and while that took some time and focus decorating and painting, it didn’t fill the void I had growing in me.

I’d take my kids to the playground and casually say hello to other women, but there was no connection. When it came down to it, I was lonely. How could I be lonely when I lived in a house full of people? It didn’t make sense, and yet I couldn’t reach out and find new friends. I didn’t even know where to start.

My time was limited, I had responsibilities, and it seemed like everyone I saw already had their own friends. I was the new girl in town, even after all this time. It felt like I was treading water and getting nowhere.

I wanted it to be enough – staying home with my kids, being there for Austin, but my life felt empty. Sometimes it made me feel guilty being this way. It seemed like every other person in the world knew who they were and what they were doing, but my own life felt lacking. I needed more. It’s not that I wanted some major career, or to live somewhere else, I just didn’t know what I wanted.

My life had changed so much over the last few years. I was married with two children, my mother-in-law living with me, and sometimes I felt like an outsider – inside my own family. Why didn’t things feel normal?

I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I finally admitted to Austin some of the thoughts I’d been having, almost embarrassed and ashamed to admit my truth. Only, rather than berate me, and tell me what a bad person I was, he pulled me close.

“Kate, it sounds like depression.”

“Depression? What? Me, no, I’m fine,” I laughed out of panic. I wasn’t depressed, right? I mean, I’m fine. Depressed people are sad all the time. I’m not sad.

“What you’re describing, I understand. You should go talk to somebody. Maybe make an appointment.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m not sad. I’m simply trying to find my place. We’re in a new environment and I haven’t adjusted, that’s all.”

“Sweetie, I went through depression. You don’t have to feel sad all the time, but if the things that you usually like doing don’t bring you enjoyment, it’s kind of a sign something is going on.”

“But, all I did was move,” I started to protest.

“And get married, and had kids, and dealt with my mental health issues, and took in my mother, and quit your job. That’s a lot of change in a short period of time. It can be traumatic, but we don’t think of change as traumatic. That’s a lot of stress you’ve been juggling over the last few years. It may be catching up with you.”

I watched him talk. I knew it made sense, so why was I having such a hard time believing I could be tackling depression. It’s just that I’d watched Austin go through his stuff, and it seemed so much bigger than mine. I knew eventually I’d get through this; it was just a few clouds chasing away my sun. I’d be fine.

Only I wasn’t. I waited and waited, and I started to disconnect emotionally. I didn’t know how to get back to where I used to be. I was going through the motions without feeling anything.

I finally reached out and talked to somebody. I hated that I was going to rely on a little pill to help get me back to where I once was. I resented that pill. Why would that make me feel better, but I couldn’t do it on my own? I didn’t want to be one of those people that needed a happy pill to feel happy. It wasn’t fair; I’d made all the right choices, done all the right things, so why do I have to suffer?

The doctor explained the chemistry end of it to me, and while I wasn’t thrilled to be starting depression medication, if it helped me feel like myself again, it was worth a shot. He warned it wouldn’t work overnight, but after a few weeks, those gray clouds just might start to go away.

He was right, and as much as I hated to admit it, I did start to feel better. I was feeling like the Kate I once knew only there was one tiny problem, it all but killed my sex drive. Now that Austin’s own sex drive was thriving, we found ourselves mismatched – yet again. I couldn’t explain it; I just wasn’t in the mood – ever. It’s not like my moods would dip and go up, I was simply in this middle of the road – all the time. Unfortunately, sex was something I lost interest in.

It’s not like he didn’t try, but after enough times of me not being interested, we realized this wasn’t working. I needed to make the effort, whether I was in the mood or not – or maybe try another medication. It was a no-win scenario. I finally started feeling better, but lost interest in bedroom activities. Or I could try to get that back, stop taking my meds, and feel like crap otherwise. I decided I’d need to participate whether the mood was there or not, and hope we’d find it together.

Austin understood, having been through it himself in the past, but now he was the one looking for more activity, and I was anything but turned on.

He wasn’t giving up on me, and set aside a night to wine and dine me. He hoped with a little extra romance, it would be like having hours of foreplay that warmed us up for other things to follow. A night out sounded wonderful, time alone with my husband was always something I cherished. It’s not that I didn’t love Austin, I did, and seeing the change in him over time, moving to Washington, seeing him thrive again in his job and with his volunteering, I recognized the man I once knew. I hated that I didn’t respond sexually, the way I used to. It all felt like effort.

He hoped to change that, at least for one night. His mother agreed to watch the kids, and he planned to steal me away for a night on the town, and then an overnight stay at a local hotel. With nobody to distract us, and nothing to take care of at home, we could focus on the two of us – and spend a night in each other’s arms.

I was looking forward to our time alone, and hoped it would at least spark my flame once again. It was a weird loving somebody, being in love with them, and yet not wanting to make love. Mentally, I wanted it to happen, but physically, when we’d try to go there, I just couldn’t get turned on and would shut him down.

The simple act of getting ready to go out excited me tonight. I was in rare form, and thrilled to be in the moment. We hadn’t done a romantic dinner in ages. We were going on a real date, something we’d pushed to a back burner when the kids were born. We went away to the shore that one weekend, and what started out as a wonderful experience turned into a fight. We didn’t make much effort after that. Tonight was going to be different. Tonight, we’d go out, spend some time alone, have a romantic dinner, and then hope to get lucky at the hotel.

I was ready, I was sure of it; I just hoped my body cooperated. He’d gone through the effort, and that alone told me so much. He could have turned away from me, but all he ever did was try to pull me back in, back to him. He truly loved me, and wanted this to work.

Standing in the bathroom, the mirror still fogged from the steam of the shower, I picked up my hairdryer and shot warm air at it to clear it. Running a comb through my wet hair, I saw my image, and realized how much I’d changed over the last few years. My face had matured, and tiny lines were coming in around my eyes, the years catching up with me. I even had a few randomly placed gray hairs making their way in way too early.

I made a mental note to get a box of hair color to hide the gray, and made peace with the small creases around my eyes.