A Moosehead Spring: Max and Rose

“Maybe April Howard did it,” Kennedy says.

“No way, she loves us,” Penny replies.

“Yeah, she really does,” Ava says.

“Evangeline?” Penny offers, shrugging her shoulders.

“You think the owner of the fabric store where we spend thousands of dollars every month would do something like this?” Migan asks.

“Yeah, not likely,” Kennedy says.

“The Samantha’s?” I ask, finally getting out of my funk.

“Samantha Hillman lives in England now, remember?” Migan says.

"And Samantha Brown would never hit someone with her car. Besides, I think she has a minivan,” Kennedy says, shaking her head.

“Jasmine Bradberry might’ve,” Penny says, but I’ve tuned out again. I can’t concentrate on anything anymore.

At home, I make a building block fort with the kids and start dinner, but I feel like I am on autopilot. I keep trying to make things better with sex but all that does is remind me that I won’t be getting pregnant at the end of it.

Why can’t he see that I need this? It’s more than a want at this point. I need another baby. I want those precious first moments that were stolen from me.

Man, maybe I should see a therapist about this. I’m starting to scare myself. The timer on the crockpot goes off and I leave the kids playing on the floor. I‘ve been slow-cooking beef and broccoli for almost five hours. It’s going to be delicious over the rice I made. In the three years we’ve been married, I’ve gone through two crockpots. It’s pretty much the only tool in my arsenal. I use it pretty much every day. The only time I don’t is if we are going to someone else's house for dinner. The kids are having dino nuggets and corn, which is pretty much all they ever want, but I’ve gotten the veggie nuggets. The damn commercial was right, they can’t tell the difference.

I’m quiet when Max comes home from work. He kisses each of the kids and then me before going into the bedroom. I get the kids around the table so we can eat. A few minutes later, he comes back out showered and wearing grey sweatpants. Shirtless.

The man is a fucking menace. He KNOWS what him in grey sweatpants does to me. I am about to climb him like a tree when Serena drops her juice cup onto the floor. There’s no mess, she just wants it back. He reaches down and hands her the cup. She goes back to happily babbling with her brothers while they eat.

“This smells amazing,” he says as I set the plate down in front of him.

“Thanks. Worked on it all day,” I say. I should be laughing. He is. Why can’t I laugh anymore? He gets up and grabs us a couple of drinks from the fridge and we eat. Again, I’m quiet.

“How was your day,” he asks, digging in.

“Same. You?”

“We got a new contract for a condo build.”

“That’s great.” I take a bite of my food.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks quietly. I look at the kids, but they aren’t paying attention to us.

“What’s always wrong with me?” I ask, pushing my food away.

“We’ve already decided this, Rose. Stop bringing it up and be content with the THREE children we have,” he says through clenched teeth.

“See, that’s the thing, Max. We didn't decide. You decided,” I reply, standing up.”

“Are you all done, my babies?” I ask in a singsong voice. I get various answers. “Let’s go get in the bath, you’ve ketchup everywhere,” I say, unbuckling each of them from their booster seats. They take off down the hallway. I love that they love bath time so much. I clear the plates from the table that the kids and I used, dumping the leftovers in the garbage and loading them into the dishwasher. “Enjoy your dinner, Max. And don’t ever imply that I am not content with my children in front of them again. You said that to be hurtful. You know I love them more than anything in this world. You can be mad at me all you want, but don’t bring them into it.”

“Rose, I-”

“Yes?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“I love you,” he says, getting up from the table.

“I love you too,” I say, letting him wrap his arms around me.

“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing my forehead.

“I’m sorry too,” I say leaning up to kiss him before walking down the hallway to bathe the kids.

First thing tomorrow, I’m calling a therapist. My emotions are all over the place and I am at a loss as to what to do about it. I tried dealing with them on my own, but I can’t do it anymore. I know when I need help and now is the time.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAX

My house has been like Zombieland for the past three days. The kids are their normal lively, active, beautiful selves. My wife on the other hand is like the walking dead. She smiles when she knows she should, interacts when it calls for it, and does everything she normally does like cooking and cleaning, but outside of that, she’s...dying...wilting before my very eyes and I feel...like shit.