What We Broke

by Marley Valentine

It is life’s greatest privilege to be in the presence of this man, to love this man and be loved by him.

I think maybe we can survive this. Maybe everything will somehow be okay. Unfortunately, that would become the very first lie I ever would tell myself about my marriage.

I hold my arms out, ready to cradle our bittersweet baby. She weighs no more than two and a half pounds, but the weight of our loss will crush me always.

My brain remembers Jesse’s best friend, Zara. The mother of Jesse’s first daughter, Zara. Our egg donor, Zara. Our surrogate, Zara. My brain insists on remembering Zara, the woman my husband should’ve married. The woman who could live a whole, fulfilling life with Jesse, better than I ever can.

For him I would move heaven and hell or die trying.

I am certain he wants to kill himself without ever having to pull the trigger. The only problem is, I want to go with him.

“The only way I’ll ever let you go is if I’m six feet under.” I glide the tip of my nose down the length of his nape, enjoying the hitch in his breath and the way his body shivers against mine. “It’s till death do us part, baby. And we’re both still here.”

How can I treat him like absolute trash and the man never wavers?

We aren’t just bound together by marriage vows, we are tethered. Like magnets, my soul couldn’t detach itself from his no matter how hard I tried. And I’m fucking trying.

I am the seven stages of grief personified, but sometimes I don’t know what I’m grieving the most: my past or my future. The loss of what we had left a crater-sized hole in our hearts, lives, and my marriage, but the loss of what we could’ve been feels insurmountable.

He’s also the worst dancer I’ve ever laid eyes on, but Jesus Fucking Christ is he beautiful.

the absence between us is so profound I feel it every hour of every day.

He looks at me with the fire of a thousand suns in his gaze, and when both of his hands simply rest atop my thighs, I want nothing more than to burn for him.

“That’s it,” he rasps, stroking us through our orgasms. “Show me how fucking pretty you are.”

“You have the most beautiful smile,” he says matter-of-factly before dropping the softest kiss on my lips. “That’s what caught my eye first.”

As if he can sense my unease, he just kisses me. And every time it’s like the first time. A new way to kiss. A new way for our mouths to talk. A new way for all the unsaid words to come out.

With his lips on mine, we just exist. One man confessing his truth, the other one absolving him of the burden. I know, in this moment, with this kiss, there will never be another man in my life like Jesse. Whether we extend our twenty-four hours or not, the damage is already done. I am irreparably changed. And I know he is too.

“You’re mine,” he says with such finality. “You’re my worry, my heartache, my burden. Whatever you think you are, whatever season it is for us, you’re fucking mine, Leo.”

And if I truly believed that leaving me would guarantee him a pain-free and fulfilled life, I would’ve been the one to leave him a year ago. I would’ve handed him my bloodied heart on a silver platter—veins, arteries, and all—and begged him to go.

“Leo. Baby,” I say with an exasperated breath. “We can’t be on the same page when we’re both reading a different fucking book.”

“I love you, Leo,” I say. “No matter what you try to tell yourself or how unloveable you try to insist you are. I. Love. You.”

“You know damn well I wouldn’t let you go.”

“So, I’m something you both agree on?” I say with a smile, hoping for levity. She raises a hand. “No, I will not indulge in your need for praise.” I laugh. “I am not that bad.” “You’re a proper slut for it.” “I am not.” “I’ve seen your face when Jesse compliments you.”

“Why do you say things like that?” “Like what?” She’s back down crouching in front of me. “You say his family like you’re not a part of that.” I can see the heartbreak in her eyes as she continues. “Like you’re not my best friend just as much as he is. As if you’re not Raine’s father just as much as he is. Like being Jesse’s husband isn’t enough to make you part of this family.”

It doesn’t matter whether I had a biological stake in Lola, she was still mine just like Raine, but my brain continues to tell me since there is no biological attachment, there is no place for me. The family was Zara and Jesse and Raine and Lola. They didn’t need me. And when Lola died, I felt that right down to the marrow of my bones.

I want him to be at my mercy, to feel just how wound up I am over him, because Jesus fucking Christ I am losing my mind trying to save us. I’m over here trying to be a Goddamn martyr, but tonight I want nothing more than to succumb to my rage and take him with me.

He is fucking beautiful, and in this moment I hate him for it. I hate him for being everything I love and everything that hurts.

“Fuck, you hurt so good,”

Every thrust is heaven and hell. In and out. Everything I loved. Everything I lost.

I make an absolute mess of him, mark him, keep some part of me visible on him for as long as I possibly can. Because that’s all I have to give. I’m almost certain he’s lost the rest of me.

He is my rock, and my rock is cracking, and it’s all my fault.

I want to believe our love is a great love, a true love, but unfortunately, the hard lesson to learn is that it doesn’t actually matter which one of those it is. Because with great love comes great loss, and with true love comes true pain. And no love is invincible.

This is us. Forever in love. Perfectly imperfect. We loved and we lost. And we lost and we lived. It’s always going to be Jesse and Leo. No matter what life throws our way, you will always find us together. Trying. Fighting. Loving.

If the great loss that he and I have survived has taught us anything, it’s that we’re not invincible. Neither is our marriage and neither is our love. Bad things absolutely happen to good people, but so do good things. And the former should never be given the power to eliminate the latter.

Fight for the good. Earn your right to deserve the good. Nurture and love the good. And let it matter less what we broke, than the fact that we found our way back to each other.