They end up keeping Lissy that day and the next, too; although they took the IVs out of her, with all that she had going on, they wanted to make certain she was going to be fine before letting me take her home. Finally, when they give the okay, it's all I can do not to scoop her up in my arms and dash out the door with her.

The news breaks in the media just as I'm getting her home. All they know is she spent some time in hospital due to exhaustion; and that's all they fucking need to know. It's nobody's business except mine and my wife's what we've gone through. I only give them a cursory thought; Mark and David do a great job keeping things under control, and they've both told me all they want me to concentrate on is loving Liss and all they want her to worry about is getting well enough to go back home to the farm. She's still pretty weak and such so we don't plan on heading out for at least a few more days.

I don't want to drive her mental by hovering 'round her twenty-four seven; but seeing as how I came so close to losing her, if this has taught me anything it's that life is fragile and time is precious, and I feel this powerful need to be close to her. Anything I'm able to do for her, I do; anything she wants I'd probably go half the world over to bring to her. I can't tell if I AM making her crazy and a part of me doesn't want to ask; but she lets me take care of her, I think she realises it's something that I want and need so much and so she lets me go.

She tries to talk about the baby, and while I know we should, should open ourselves up and work through our grief, as Doctor Connor told me, I can't bear thinking about it. When I change the subject I can see hurt and worry come into her eyes; even more so if I just shut down and make her stop discussing it, but I'm powerless right now to stop that sort of reaction in myself. Lissy's never once accused me of anything, not even blamed herself, though I wonder if she feels the same guilt I do over losing this child, but I still feel this sort of shame that all the shit I was pulling with her before might have had anything to do with this. I have to be strong for both of us now, Liss is depending so much on me to take care of her, so I try to bury those thoughts away and give all I have, all I am, to her.

She seems to crave, to desperately need as much close physical contact as possible, and I certainly don't mind giving that to her, so I'm always touching her, holding her, kissing her. At night, especially, I'm glad we're in the same bed together and I don't have to sleep on one of those rickety portable things anymore while she's alone and yet so near to me; we immediately go into each other's arms and hold on to one another all night long, just as I'd promised her. We can't make love for awhile, not until she's fully healed and she's feeling better, but just being close to her like this is life-affirming in itself. When I've got Liss in my arms, it's like that moment in the hospital when I told you that if that was all there was, it would be perfect. Guess that's why I'm cuddling her as much as possible; that's the times when I'm feeling most at peace, both with her and with myself.

Mark gave me this article he found online about grieving couples after the loss of a child, written by some chaplain at a hospital; I tried reading it but the truth about what I was feeling only served to reinforce all of that within me and made me feel worse, so I set it aside. One phrase this bloke used kept leaping out at me, though, repeatedly: 'bereaved parents'. 'Cause that's what we are; though we never got to see or hold our baby, forevermore, we're always going to be parents. Even if we never have another child, we'll still have been, for a brief time, without us knowing it, and for the rest of our lives be, this one's mum and dad. It's kind of a strange thing, because we now have nothing tangible to show for it, no little one, but its very existence made us 'bereaved parents'.

What's even more devastating is, I've wanted a child for so long, and I've made no secret of it. I think I'd make a decent enough dad; I've had practice with friend's kids, and with being an uncle. I know Lissy's wanted children for some time; we'd always talked about that, even before we were married, when we each knew the other was the one we wanted to have those children with, ya know? The biggest heartbreak for me is, she'd be such a wonderful mum. I've seen her with her niece and nephew, she loves them so much, and to see her with our own would take my breath away. She's got so much she could give and share and teach, and now that that's gone, I feel the loss so profoundly.

I try to tempt her with all of her favourite foods; every morning, I make her a nice, big, American-style brekkie with fruit, eggs, toast, everything (that being one meal I'm pretty adept at handling), have her favourite sweets brought in, and in the evenings I often have catered meals from restaurants I know she likes. She's eating a bit more and looking healthier, I can't wait till we get back and my mum can cook for her, too. She's trying real hard to gain her strength back, and I'm proud of her. She's a fighter, my wife.

One day, we're both sitting there in the kitchen after a meal, when Liss tries to talk about the baby once again. Reckon that somehow, it must help her to try to discuss it, but it hurts me so much, and usually I try to respond as little as possible until she realises this and stops. I don't have the heart to outright tell her to shut up over it, but I know it hurts her when I don't respond like she thinks I should.

"I think it was better that we didn't know," she tells me. "If we knew, we would have started to plan. I know us. We would have chosen names, we would have begun to buy things...this...was...so abrupt...but at least we didn't know about it beforehand."

Anger, sudden and inexplicable, rises up within me. I shouldn't take it out on my wife, but she's the only one that's here right now and so I lash out at her and once I do, that familiar, overwhelming grief and shame washes over me again. "It doesn't make the hurting any fucking less, though, does it, Liss?"

She at first looks shocked, like I've physically struck her; then I can clearly see her own grief and her own pain. "No, of course not," she whispers, so soft I can scarcely hear her, and then she stands, turning away from me, head bowed low, both arms wrapped around her middle like she's gonna be sick. Her shoulders are trembling and I know she's crying; at this moment she probably hates me and wants to flee, but she doesn't know where to go, and even though my comment was insensitive and outright mean and thoughtless, she still wants to rely on me for comfort. The only reason I know this is she's still in the same damn room with me.

I come over to stand behind her, wrapping my own arms around her, covering hers, and then I rest my chin atop her head, hold her as tight and as close to me as I can get her. She stiffens somewhat but she doesn't pull away; I hold onto her until I feel her body relax and melt back into mine. "I'm sorry," I murmur, low into her ear, over and over. "I'm sorry. I love you."

Finally she nods in response, and I feel relief flood my entire being. Then, again so quiet that I have to strain to hear her, she says, "It doesn't make the hurting any less, Russell. And it doesn't ever make it go away."

No, it doesn't. I can vouch for that. And I don't know what I could answer to that that would make it any easier, either, so I just hold her and she just lets me and we both try not to cry. After a bit, I simply say, "Let's go home, Lissy. To Mum and Dad, to the farm. Let's go home, sweetheart."

She nods again, and I begin to make mental plans for us to leave first thing in the morning. 

Once we've arrived, my whole family's there to greet us; Liss had spoken to them before we got here, her Mum, too, but she's right; it doesn't make the hurting any less for any of us.

I feel more secure here, though, and feel better about Lissy, because we've got this circle of love that surrounds the two of us and we have such support. Especially from my parents. They've always loved Liss like a daughter, not just due to her marrying me, but genuinely and completely. And even though the both of us are still living on our own, in our own home, they're just a shout away, almost literally, and without their saying it I know they're here for either of us should we need them.

This place is my one refuge from the world; when outside pressures are too much, I know I can find solace and contentment here, and I'm ever grateful that Lissy feels the same way. She's adapted to my life, with its demands and its difficulties, but that means she shares all the good parts, too. And being at home is definitely one of those. If she'd have wanted to, I'd have taken her back to the States to be with her family, and I had asked her that, but she wanted to come home to the farm as much as I did.

There's more of a sense of normalcy here, too; rather than not dare to go outside because a paparazzi would jump out of the bushes, we can do what we please and we can further concentrate on getting her well and rebuilding our lives. There's plenty of everyday work to be done, and we have the distractions of farm life; her horse Sugar had a little one before we reconciled, and I'm beginning to work with Liss on training her. When we're like that, with Honey and Sugar and her filly, Hope, that's when we seem to be happiest because the issue of our lost child isn't hanging over our heads.

If I don't think about that, I'm okay; it's when Liss still tries to engage me in talking about it that I have difficulty. She doesn't push; she talks about it less and less, knowing it disturbs me, but I know the fact it does bothers her. Lack of communication was something that nearly destroyed us before, when she left me, and I live in constant fear that this will all turn out to be too much for her and she'll do so again, but I can't bring myself to open up to her. She's got enough weighing on her without me having to add to her burden.

Ironically, she pours out her love upon me, and while I feel I don't really deserve that, it makes me feel good, and since not much does that for me these days, I fairly bask in it, Lissy's sweet, loving, gentle affection. When I'm being a son of a bitch, because every so often, we'll fight, over things that wouldn't be significant other than the fact that we're making them out to be, I can apologise to her and her forgiveness releases me from my prison of pain and fear. I feel bad when this happens, and it seems to happen with increasing frequency; but what it is, I only half-jokingly tell myself, is that I'm moving into the Anger Phase of my grief. Somehow, I also tell myself, things have got to eventually get better and Liss and I can move through this. Someday.

One night after one of our spats, when we're lying there together in bed after having worked through it as we always do, Liss says timidly, "I'm worried that you're going to self-destruct."

I've fucking worried about that myself. But she doesn't need to worry about me, on top of everything else. So, softly, I kiss her and take her into my arms. "I'm not gonna self-destruct, Lissy. I promise."

"I wish you'd let me help you." She looks fearful of my reaction; is this what we've become, that my own wife is actually afraid of saying anything to me?

Confidently, a bit more than I actually feel, I reassure, "I don't need any help, Liss. Everything's fine." 

She doesn't answer me; only snuggles more deeply against me and presses her face into the side of my neck. I feel her love, so strongly, and when I do, I really DO feel like everything's gonna be fine. At least for now.

That's not to say that things aren't good for us, too. Being here has brought both of us some more stability, more calm, mostly because of the presence of my mum and dad. Especially for Lissy, I think. Since I still can't seem to open up and allow myself to discuss the loss of the baby with her, I know she's gone to my folks, Mum in particular, and while I feel badly that it's this way, I'm at least glad she's got them to listen to her.

I realise that my feeling this way, my not sharing myself with my wife like this, is dangerous and wrong, but I also feel that I'm barely hanging on by sheer force of will some days as it is and if I were to lose it, it'd be all over. I know I promised her I wouldn't self-destruct, but sometimes I feel like, rather than exploding in the manner she's afraid of, I might just shrivel up and merely fade away. My number one priority is keeping myself together for Lissy's sake, and I'm gonna do that if it kills me.

We've been home for a little while, when one day, Liss tells me, "I have my doctor's appointment in Coffs the day after tomorrow." 

This is the one where they make sure everything's all right, that she's healed from before. If all's well, we'll be able to be intimate once more; something that I feel we both want and need. But I think she's also hoping they'll tell her she can try to get pregnant again and that's something I don't want happening to us just now. And I know I can't bear to see her lying there like before, even though this time, it'll just be a routine doctor check-up. It'll bring back memories of those awful days in the hospital.

Gently, I tell her, "I don't think I'll be able to go with you, Liss." 

Her smile fades; she looks hurt and confused and upset. Like a small child, she asks, "Why?"

"Got a ton of stuff to do 'round here, love. And you know me. Don't trust anyone else to do it right." I try to grin, joking, but inside of me I can feel at first, the searing pain of it all, and then the familiar empty numbness. Oh, other than the anger. Once again, I'm angry at myself most of all, for having hurt Lissy. Seems I try to protect her, but lately, I end up hurting her.

She composes herself and nods, then says in that quiet tone of hers she's taken with me recently, "I'll be downstairs." 

I have to try to explain, to help her understand why I feel the way I do. I can't leave her feeling like this. So after a few moments, I follow her downstairs, but come up short when I hear voices talking in the kitchen. I'd forgotten Mum came over today to help Lissy get some things done around the house. Now, she's always taught me it's wrong to eavesdrop, and I really should allow them privacy for whatever it is they're talking about, but something Lissy says makes me pause and listen in.

"I don't know how to reach him." 

Peeking 'round the edge of the doorframe, I can see the two of them sitting at the table. My mum's fixed tea for the both of them, and I can see her reach out and take one of my wife's hands in hers.

"He's not going to go with me to the doctor's. He says he's got too many things to do around here. And I know it's not that; I know it's not that he doesn't care..." she sniffles; swipes at her face with her other hand. "I think it's that he cares so much. I know this is eating away at him, but he won't open up to me and let me know what he's feeling. He feels so much pain, Mum. I can see it in his eyes. It's tearing him apart and he won't share that with me. I'm afraid..." she lets out this sob, covering her mouth to stifle it, and I feel my insides twist at her agony, "...I'm afraid for him." Then she lifts her head to look at my mother. "I don't want you to talk to him, though. I don't want to cause him any more pain than he already feels. All I can do is be here for him, and love him. And hope that I'm able to reach him."

Lissy's presence gives me more comfort than she'll ever know. At that moment, I want nothing more than to go to her and hold her; but I can't. My mum does, though, and then I hear her say, "I'll go with you, darling. You don't have to worry."

"Thanks..." Then I don't hear what she tells her next, because I'm fleeing, as fast as I can go, trying to escape the hurt I've caused Liss today. 

I get the feeling I could run the entire world over, though, and I still wouldn't be able to escape my own agony that haunts me. 

Later that day, when I get back in the house, Liss surprises me by having waited for me in the kitchen. I wonder briefly if she even left at all from earlier. The most delicious smells are coming out of here and I recognise my Mum's touch.

There's no hint of the earlier sorrow in her expression, only welcome and above all, her sweet, generous love, as she looks up and smiles at me.  "I'm glad you're home." Coming to stand before me, she takes my hands in hers. "Your mother made us dinner; I asked if she and your father wanted to eat with us, but she said no. She helped me with dessert; we made a pie, just for you." Then she's got her arms wrapped around me and she stands on tiptoe, since she's barefooted, to kiss me. "I love you."

Especially knowing how she really feels inside where I'm concerned, I don't think I deserve any of this easy affection and acceptance. But I also understand what she's trying to do, that she senses the hurt within me and is trying to push her own to the background to take care of me first. I hold onto her, and then I'm deepening the kiss, needing her so badly, as if this one simple act is giving me sustenance.

When we part, Lissy's still smiling, though if I look real hard, I can see the beginnings of tears shimmering in her dark eyes. "Wow. That was really nice." 

"I love you, too, angel." 

As if she can read all the turmoil in my mind, she merely reaches and frames my face between her two small hands. "I know you do," she says, quietly. Then, sort of startling me, "Do you know just how incredibly much I do love you, Russell?"

Despite everything the two of us have been through, that's the one thing I'm absolutely sure of, is my love for Liss and hers for me. I reckon all of my actions over the last little while haven't been screaming this, however, so I tell her, "Yes."

"Good." There's an edge of fierceness in her tone when she adds, "I don't want you to ever forget that." She looks like she could say something more but changes her mind and then says, "Well, come on; let's eat before the food gets cold. We worked really hard on it, you know."

"It smells great." There's something very comforting in engaging in domesticity with my wife, mundane things like having supper together in our own home, doing dishes, etc. I've always felt this way, seeing as how I travel a lot and don't always get to be like this, but I really feel it tonight.

Lissy dishes up our meal, and the two of us sit next to each other as we always do, she on one side and I directly adjacent, and as we eat, I take her hand in mine.

She looks at me and asks softly, "What are you thinking about, honey?"

"You're so beautiful." Even though I know Liss has still got to be troubled by me and all she was talking to my Mum about, she's still got this sort of gentle serenity that I love, that I crave, because it's been so long since I was able to find that in myself.

Dipping her head kind of shyly, she murmurs, "Thank you." Then, brightly, "Your mom's going to go with me to the doctor's; we're going to make a day of it, maybe lunch and shopping. Won't that be nice?"

There's just the slightest tremor to her voice. I know she couldn't know I overheard her earlier and so I also know she's not telling me this to be cruel, but rather she's trying so hard to keep things normal and easy. I remember the days when we could talk about anything. I miss that. Now it's like we're almost dancing around each other on eggshells, trying to find a safe, neutral ground that we have in common that won't upset the fragile balance of our relationship. "That's wonderful, sweetheart," I tell her.

"I've been feeling a whole lot better."

"You look a whole lot better, love." 

"I..." she gets that sort of shy look again, "...I can't wait for us...to be close...again. I do love you, so much. I want to show you that."

Letting go of her hand, I brush my fingertips across her face, gently stroke across her cheek with my thumb. "You don't need to prove anything to me, Liss."

She looks down at her plate, her lip trembling. So faint that I almost don't catch it, she whispers, "Neither do you." 

This hits home. I realise then how much I've hurt her and what I can't take back. I feel the guilt and the shame and the pain all over again; but when I'd pull away, she grabs my hand in hers and holds on tightly. I close my eyes for a moment to try to get some of my strength back, and then lean over and kiss her temple. "How 'bout some of that pie?" I ask, trying to ignore the husky catch in my own voice.

She smiles, nods, moves away only enough to go get us some, but despite the fact we're both still trying so hard to keep things domestically normal, I sense this undercurrent beneath the surface. I wish things could be the way they used to be.

A couple of days later, Liss goes to the doctor's with Mum. She's waiting for me when I get back in the house; she's done this every evening. I have to confess that I look forward to that, because it means she still cares about me. I know the issue about the baby has driven a sort of wedge in between us; yet even though she's reaching out to me, something inside of me keeps me from reaching back. I know I've hurt her immeasurably and that may be something that we won't ever be able to get around, but I'm hoping that won't be the case. I don't know when, though. We both are suffering so much pain and hurt that I wonder if we'll ever be able to just be ourselves once more.

I take her in my arms and hold onto her, then, before she can say anything, I'm kissing her, and I don't ever want to let her go. "Good news," she says, when I let up long enough to let her speak. "Everything's fine."

"I'm glad, sweetheart." 

"We...we can make love again." She smiles. "I know that you...you've missed that. So have I. And...And we...we can try to have another baby. I think it'd be okay this time, Russell. The doctor said I'm strong and healthy; and the odds of anything going wrong are small. I feel really good..." her voice trails off; I can't look at her directly because there's such hope and radiance shining in her face and it doesn't reflect what I feel. "If you want," she adds, very softly.

I nod, make myself smile at her, but I can't say anything just yet. So I simply lift her hand in mine and kiss it. She runs her hand over my hair and then she's got her arms around me and she simply hugs me to her.

Later that night, when the two of us go to bed, I know that Liss is hoping we'll make love. I can see it in her eyes; and I sense that she's afraid to make the first move because she's fearful I'll reject her. Now, I've never been unsure of this sort of thing in my entire life. Especially with my wife. With Lissy, it's always been terrific and perfect and just absolutely bloody right; but somehow, tonight, there's a sort of uncertainty there. It's like I've not allowed myself to reach for her for so long that it would almost make sense to deny myself this, too.

We both get ready and lie there as usual, only this time Lissy turns away from me, even though she's let me take her into my arms, like we always do. I hate to see this hurt in her, and I need her sweet goodness. This is one thing that I can give to her, without hesitation, without reservations, without doubt or fear. So I kiss her, there, just beneath her ear, where I know she's particularly sensitive, and then I slip one hand underneath her nightshirt and lay it flat on her belly. Rub round there in slow circles, until I can feel her relax, until she's unconsciously rubbing back into me, and then I turn her over so I can look at her.

Her eyes are huge and dark and endless. If I gaze really hard into them, I can see my own self reflected in them. I see what she sees, what she perceives to be me, and when we're like this is the time I come the closest to feeling like my former self again. This is when I kind of feel good and pure and whole once more, when me and Liss are caught up in each other, wrapped up in our love. Through Lissy's eyes, I'm strong and sure and capable, and at least for now, I can allow myself to feel that way too.

She reaches, strokes my face. "I love you," she tells me. And then, "Please..."

That's all the urging I need. I kiss her again, tenderly, and then I'm slowly touching her, trying so hard to be gentle and patient, because despite it all, I want her, need her, desperately need to lose myself in her, if only for a little while. She's touching me too, her breathing coming in soft sighs, like she's waited so long for this moment as well. Neither of us says a word. I don't think I'd be able to adequately express to her what this means to me, and I think Liss is almost afraid to shatter the perfection of this, the peace and the comfort we're taking from each other.

She's beautiful, so beautiful, and I want to show her just how much I really do love her. As I told Lissy that night at the dinner table, she didn't have anything to prove to me, but despite what she told me, I feel after the way I've been treating her, I almost need to prove my love to her. Her hands upon me are soft, kind, but I gently cuff both of them in one of mine, pinning them over her head against the pillow. She writhes as I suckle her nipples, trying to pull herself free. "Russ, I...I need to touch you...please..."

"Shh...Liss, let me take care of you." I let go of her, though, kiss her belly, moving lower down her body. She fists both hands into my hair as if she's going to tug me away, but then cradles me against her and holds on tight as I part her legs and my mouth finds her there. "Ohhh..." She cries out and it's the sweetest sound in the world.

Her taste, everything about her is familiar and good. I could sate myself on her forever. When I raise my head to look at her momentarily, she's now breathing in gasps, her head thrown back, and when she opens her eyes to glance down at me, she's got tears in them, beautiful happy tears of joy. This is one thing I'm able to make right.

"Don't stop...please, don't ever..." and then, fiercely, as if she's trying to make me understand just how much, "I...love you...I love..." 

"I...I love you, too, Lissy..." Saying that is like letting the tight band around my heart loose; I feel it expanding and in this moment, we're all that matters. This can't make any of our pain go away, but it can hide it, for awhile. I cover her with my mouth once more and she cries out again, coming almost instantly.

Usually in an instance like this, I'd give her time to recover, hold her for a moment before continuing, but I feel this driving need to keep on, to give her all the pleasure she can stand, to do at least this for her when everything else I seem to do has caused her so much misery and pain. So, relentlessly, I'm coming back over her, and then I'm gently easing my way into her, ever mindful that it's been some time and that her body's been through quite a lot. She feels so wonderful, though, and pretty soon I can't hold back; she's not wanting me to, either, urging me, encouraging me, and this time when she comes, I'm right there with her.

That night, I make her come twice more before I finally just hold her close to me, and we both sleep. Knowing at least in this, everything is as it was before, even if the rest of our world around us is threatening to come crashing down at any moment.

The next morning, while Lissy's still sleeping, exhausted from the night before, I slip out of bed. I've been struggling with a decision for some time now, and before I kill any love that's left for me within my wife, I've come to the conclusion that what would be best for us, at this point, is that I give us some time apart from one another, at least for a bit. Lissy's gonna be hurt and shocked, I know, and maybe she won't understand my reasons for leaving her alone, although I hope she sees that maybe this will help us. Maybe, though, this will be the final death blow that kills us, that destroys our marriage, and even though the thought of that fucking slices me to the quick, even though I know that this is a very real possibility, I have to take the chance that it also might be what we both need. Because if I stay here, I sincerely am afraid that I really will break Lissy's heart for good. I know I'm already hurting her constantly, and if I do this, if I go for a while, maybe I can sort out my head and maybe she will have time to grow stronger without the burdens I'm adding to her.

So I place the call, round up the others and tell them that yes, despite everything, Texas is still on.

You would think that after that passionate night the two of us spent, things would be better between us, but though my ardour for Lissy hasn't cooled any, I can't bring myself to touch her again. Not sexually, anyway. At first I can tell that she thinks it's made everything all right again. But after gently brushing aside her first few tentative overtures, she retreats; it's as if she's scared of me, frightened of upsetting me or making me angry, something that she's never felt towards me before. Liss is brave and confident and always says what she thinks and does what she feels is right; she's one of the few people that quite normally can put me straight in my place.

It's not that I don't love her. Like I heard her tell my mum, she was right; I love her more than anything. But it's like there's two of me; shadows of the old self I once was, that's still trying to hold on, to be the protector, the provider, the rock Liss can count on to lean on; and then this new me, who sees from within all the chaos I've created, who knows that what I'm doing is destroying myself, wounding my wife, and possibly completely wrecking my own marriage, but who is absolutely fucking powerless to do anything to stop it.

At least I haven't taken to drinking myself into a stupor, no, what I do is work myself into a frenzy, every single day. Here, there's always lots of work to be done, and I drive myself until I'm exhausted. It really wouldn't matter if I wasn't trying to avoid making love to Lissy; because I'm so bloody tired at night it's all I can do to just climb into bed and take her into my arms anyway. And it's a measure of her own love for me, that she still hasn't given up on me, that she lets me do that. She lets me kiss her, hold her, but she doesn't try any more to press for anything more intimate than that. If she would, I tell myself, I'd respond, just to erase the sadness and pain in her eyes, but she's stopped trying and I only pray she doesn't give up on me.

After a few days of this cruel self-inflicted celibacy, one night we're both in our room preparing for bed when Liss just sinks down on the edge of it and asks the words I've been fearful I'd hear someday. "Do you...do you want a divorce, Russell?"

I feel like the breath's been kicked right out of me and almost swear my heart's stopped beating. Looking at her sitting there, so despondent, so hurt, I can barely speak. "No. Never. Christ, Liss, no...Do you?"

"No." She answers quickly and I feel relieved. If she did, I don't know what I'd do; even though we separated before and I felt there was no hope, we never once really talked about divorce, this is the first time it's come up as even the inkling of a viable option and the spectre of it hangs ugly in the air between us, even though we've just told each other it's not anything we want. "I love you. That's never changed, never gone away...but you...won't touch me...won't hardly look at me...and I'm not sure what to think anymore."

"I love you, Lissy. So much. But I..."

"I told you before, Russell, that I wasn't going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Though I'm not going to leave you this time...I want so much to help you. But I don't know how to save you from yourself, and it scares the shit out of me. It's like...it's like you've created your own private hell, and you won't let anyone try to rescue you from it. Somehow...you feel you deserve whatever misery you're putting yourself through, and you don't. I wish you could see that." She's crying openly; I'm amazed at her insight. She sees everything I feel, but what I don't see is that the tears she's crying aren't for her own self, but for me. "The grief...it's eating you up inside. I can't bear that; I can't bear to see that within you." Softly she adds, "Maybe...we should try grief counselling."

"We don't need fucking grief counselling, Lissy. I reckon we've both done enough grieving as it is to last us a damn lifetime." I'm beginning to feel agitated, as if this is all racing towards something I can't control. "Therapy doesn't solve everything, you know."

"No...but we need to talk about it, sweetheart." 

"No, we don't." 

"Yes, we do." I can tell that she's petrified about confronting me over this, but still, she doesn't back down, she looks me straight on in the eyes and I have to admire her courage. Especially since I'm unsure myself over how to react to all of this. "We need to talk about what we've lost. We need to help each other get through this."

"We lost something we didn't even know we had, Liss! Do you know how that makes me feel?" My heart's now thudding and I feel trapped, cornered. Not by Lissy in particular, but by my own emotions.

Quietly, Liss answers, "No. Because you won't tell me." 

"Well, let me tell you now." I'm beginning to pace, feeling like a lion in a cage. "Angry...fucking angry. If I'd known you were pregnant, I'd have made you take a hell of a lot more care with yourself than you did. If I..."

She lets out this sort of gasping sob. "Do you blame me for losing the baby?"

The next words spill out of me before I can stop them. "No, I don't blame you, Lissy, not ever. I blame myself." 

I see so much in Lissy's expression at this revelation: shock, regret, a dawning awareness of what I've been keeping from her all this time. "Oh, Russ, no..." She stands and tries to touch me, to hold me, but I won't let her. When she takes my hands in hers, trying to get me to stop pacing, I wrench them from hers and keep on, trying to sort out my thoughts. She stands there watching me, helpless, worried, afraid.

Confessing my own guilt is like breaking down a dam and releasing a tidal flood of epic proportions of what I feel. Everything's tumbling out at once, words tripping and falling over one another in a steady stream. "If you hadn't been under all this stress from all the shit...maybe you'd still be pregnant and everything would be fine. I put you through hell...made you lose the baby..."

Very calmly, softly, Liss reassures, "You didn't make me lose it, Russell. It just happened. It wasn't meant to be. It's very painful, but that's what it is, honey. I...I didn't take care of myself, I didn't know. If I had, I would've tried harder. But I can't blame myself, and I don't blame you, and I don't want you to blame yourself, either. It had nothing to do with that. It just wasn't meant to be." I've stopped my frantic pacing and she reaches out to take my hands, forces me to look at her. "Please, tell me you understand that," she begs me.

"On one level, I really do, Lissy. But..."

"No buts, Russ. You need to know that it wasn't your fault." Gently, she adds, "We need to start going to therapy and counselling again. I think that would help. If we..."

Tearing free of her once more, I tell her, feeling frustration and anger rising up within me, "I am NOT going to sit there in front of some complete stranger and spill my fucking guts anymore. It is none of their goddamn business what we're going through. What I'm going through." I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that has to be the most amazingly fucking selfish thing to say, but there's no way I could do that with someone I barely know when I can't even be honest about my feelings to my own wife.

Besides sympathy for me, I can see a spark of something more in Lissy's eyes, as she tells me, "It's MY fucking business, though, what you're going through. Damn it, talk to me! Tell me what you're feeling. I want to help you. I promised you I would help you." Our voices are now raised and it's rapidly turning into something neither of us can contain.

Truthfully, I ask her, "How can I let you help me when I can't even help myself?"

"THAT IS WHAT I AM HERE FOR!" Lissy's tirade frankly shocks the hell out of me. I'm pacing again; she grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. She's as full of rage and as hurting as I am; tears are still streaking down her face as she pleads, "Let me in. You begged me once not to shut you out; now I'm doing the same thing. Let me in, Russell. Please share with me. I want to share your pain. I need to. Please."

"I...I can't." After all this time, keeping this locked away from Liss because of my fierce need to protect her, I wouldn't know where to begin. I see once more how this has wounded her, but then she's still holding on, fighting for me. I would give in, would gladly let her help shoulder part of my burden, but I'm so damn tired.

"I'm leaving for Austin at the end of the week." Once again, the words just spill out of me, without warning. I had planned to bring this up at a better time, kind of break it to her gently, but there IS no good time and no other way to tell her.

She's stunned; she lets go of me and then the most painful look, of defeated agony, is on her beautiful face. "Please don't go now, not like this." 

"I have to." I'm silently pleading with her to understand, and I think a small part of her does, or is trying to, but the rest of her is paralysed with the hurt I've caused her.

"You need to stay here so we can work this through. You need to confront your feelings, Russ." And even though I know it's true, I still somehow believe that sharing my pain with Lissy will only add to her grief, rather than ease it somewhat for both of us.

"You know what I want, Lissy? I want to feel alive again." It's as if when our baby died, part of me did, too. After our separation and then our reconciling, the child was a symbol of all that was right and good. It was a symbol of our hope. And then, when it was gone, it left this emptiness behind. Not that there wasn't my wife, but it was like it cast both of us adrift, apart from each other. Our relationship, our marriage, while trying to get back on track, was still tentative and new again, and so the baby's loss affected that so much more profoundly. I think of what Mark told me in the hospital; that this could go either way, tear us apart for good or bring us closer together, and at this point, it still could go either way. I know which way I want it to go; I love Liss so much, more than anything else in my life, but I can't seem to function even on a basic level as a human being anymore. And maybe my leaving for Texas will give us both time to sort things through, without wounding each other again and again. I've almost convinced myself that this is the right thing to do.

I've actually almost convinced myself that apart from Liss, I'll be able to sort things through, work them out, and make myself whole for her again. 

There are still tears in Lissy's eyes but now she's upset as she asks angrily, "And going to Austin with the band, leaving me here, is going to do that for you? Do they do that for you, Russ? Make you feel alive? You can't feel that with me anymore?"

I try to make her understand. "You make me feel so much, Liss. So much..."

She sobs and I feel the sound echo deep inside of me. "Make me come alive, Russell," she begs me. "Please. Help me remember what that's like." 

I close my eyes so I don't have to see the misery in her face. Then, deliberately, she adds, "Or are you incapable of feeling anything anymore?"

My eyes fly open; fury, frustration, sorrow, love, need, they're all waging a battle within me to take control. "Goddamn...You want feeling, Lissy? I'll show you fucking feeling." She looks a bit scared of having provoked me, but I don't allow either of us a chance to think; rather, I grab her, tug her beneath me on our bed, keeping her body pinned under mine, although I'm very careful not to hurt or crush her. She's still crying, although now not because I'm frightening her, but because I believe she wants this as much as I do, this single chance to feel anything close to resembling real, intense emotion again. I'm pulling at our clothing, my one need to be inside her overwhelming anything else at the moment. Lissy's clutching at me, holding onto me, and so I know she's feeling all the turbulence that I do right now.

When we're both lying there naked, I'm not so inconsiderate that I'd just shove myself in her without making sure she was ready, so I slide my hand down between her legs, find her body already open, wet and willing. I push a finger deep inside of her and she moans, then I add a second and she cries out, this keening sound of need that pierces my heart. After everything, she still wants this, wants me. "You're so wet, Liss," I tell her, my own voice so ragged it sounds foreign to my own ears. "You're capable of feeling, too." And then I slip my fingers out, entering her with one long, intense wild thrust; as I surge into her over and over again I can feel her moving beneath me, both of us frantic, desperate, and hungry. My mind shuts down until the only driving need is to fuck both of us into oblivion.

For that's what this is; crazy physical fucking, all the wrong emotions clearly involved. Lissy and I don't do this; we make love, with all the tenderness and caring that an act like that involves, but not this time. I can feel her nails digging into my shoulders and back, but I don't care; the small sharp stinging pain lets me know I'm still alive.

I pour myself into her; actually hear myself shout; the sound devoid of any satisfaction or triumph; and she's right there with me; I can feel her orgasm go on and on, this endless tight pulse. It was good, but without the emotions that should have been there, I feel almost emptier than before. The two of us are tangled in this impossible mass together; somehow we've ended up with Lissy spooned into me, both of us breathing hard and unable to find anything to say or the ability to move.

Finally I sort of manoeuvre us into a more comfortable position, where she's truly nestled back against me and I've got my own body sheltering hers. She lets me hold her; I've got my arms around her, just beneath her breasts, and she covers my hands with hers, absently stroking with her fingertips, her touch still so gentle and loving. That's the only movement from her. I press my cheek against the top of her head, slowly, minutely rocking us back and forth, and then I kiss her on the nape of her neck and feel her shudder. Not out of revulsion, though; that spot has always tickled her, and I smile, just a little, at her familiar reaction. "I'm sorry," I whisper, low in her ear. I'm sorry I tickled you, sorry I've hurt you, sorry I fucked you senseless, sorry I let you down, sorry I let our baby down. Sorry I'm not a decent husband to you, love. Those two words are fraught with meaning, but I just lie there and hold her and let her interpret them how she will.

She sighs, the sound hollowly reverberating in the silence. "Let's not be sorry for anything anymore," she tells me softly. 

I don't say anything, just snuggle her a little closer. We lie there for awhile; Liss is so still that the only way I know she hasn't yet fallen asleep is the movement of her fingers, lightly feathering over my skin in a soothing rhythm. Her left hand over mine is tracing the edge of my wedding band, repeatedly, as if to remind me she's still here and that she still loves me. I'm beginning to feel that familiar aching desire for my wife, that wonderful slow burn start up again. It's better than the numbness, better than the torturous pain, better than the hurt and the anger; so I shut my eyes briefly, trying to keep all of that at bay, and then give in to the good feelings.

I loosen my hold on her just enough so I can slide my hands up and cover her breasts with my palms, tenderly plucking and playing with her nipples. Liss makes a small acquiescing sound and pushes back against me. I kiss the curve of her shoulder and then go a little higher to the side of her neck; simply resting my face there. I can feel her steady, reassuring pulse; can hear her breathing.

This time, I want it to be for her; I want to give her everything I didn't before. I want to give to her, show her with my body, what I can't say to her aloud. I put one of my legs between hers, opening her up for me, and then move a hand down there to find her just as wet and wide open as before.

We have all the time in the world; so my touch there is light, only enough to tease and arouse her but not enough to bring her to orgasm just yet. Lissy whimpers now, her own hand blindly coming down to cover mine, to guide me in showing just how she likes to be pleasured. Not that I don't know this already, but I cherish this, the intimacy, the giving and sharing. This is how it should be. This is how it was meant to be.

"Does that feel good, angel?" I breathe the words, barely audible to the two of us. She nods, shifts restlessly, trying to get me to touch her more deeply. I feel tears come into my eyes and turn my head ever so slightly to let them fall into her hair. "I love you. I want to love you...will you let me, sweetheart?"

She nods again. I pull my hand away and she cries out in distress; but then I'm carefully turning her onto her back so I can look at her, so I can see the beauty and the light in her face.

Liss is lovely. I've aroused her to the point where her cheeks are delicately flushed, her eyes endlessly dark. Her hair's begun to grow out enough so that it curls in damp tendrils around her face, and I reach with a slightly unsteady hand to brush it back. There's still a hint of worry, of edgy concern in her expression, but as she lays her palm against my face, I close my eyes for a moment and then open them again to see such a wealth of love and compassion there.

"You're a good person, Russell," she says quietly. "I wish you could see that within yourself. I wish you could believe it." 

I don't know what to say to that so I bend to her and kiss her. Long, slow and soft, deep and meaningful. She strokes my hair and beard, soothing me like one would a scared or injured animal, petting me, over and over. When I pause to gaze at her, she whispers, "I love you, so much." She takes a deep breath. "Please, please, don't ever forget or doubt that. Ever."

Wordlessly I shake my head. No, Lissy's love is the only thing that gives meaning and feeling to me right now. It's the only thing keeping me holding on. When I took her so roughly before, I wasn't as careful as I had hoped; there are marks on her soft, pale skin. There's a kind of reddish abrasion on the curve of her right breast; and when I look lower, there are dark pink marks on her hips where I held her in place while I thrust into her. She notices my expression and makes me look at her again. "No. Don't. I know what you're thinking...you didn't hurt me. It felt so good...you felt so good. I need you. Please, Russell."

Touching my mouth to the mark over her breast, I trace it with my tongue and Lissy makes this sound of surrender. Dipping lower, I do the same with the bruises on her hips and then, when I would move to taste her even lower still, she protests quietly, "No, I...I want you inside of me...don't wait."

"Are...are you sore?" The last thing I want to do is cause her physical pain. 

Liss shakes her head. "I'm...empty without you." Then, a hint of sadness in her eyes, she adds, so faintly, "Lonely." 

I hold her close and then I'm slowly, carefully easing my way within her. Our motion now is tender, this sweetly lyrical rising and falling of our bodies against one another. It's much more satisfying because I can feel the connection with her; feel the tentative bonds between us and it's comforting to know they're still there. This is one way I'm still able to adequately express myself, through this simple beautiful act of loving my wife.

Afterwards, we lie there, entwined around each other, and it's then that I finally feel a bit of peace. In the morning, all the old doubts and pain will come creeping back, but here and now, with Lissy tucked in against me, I feel almost whole again.

When I wake, Liss is still sleeping soundly, and I quietly disengage myself from her and get dressed. I indulge in watching her for a long moment, because I'm not going to get that when I'm gone, her warmth and her goodness beside me. I know my decision has really injured her, but I've gone over it in my mind time and again and I'm convinced this is the only way.

I make it down to the kitchen, sit there just blindly looking at the wall, lost in my thoughts, and that's where Lissy finds me. I should have known she'd not have stayed asleep for long once I left her; it's like she's got this sort of intuition, even in sleep, where I'm concerned. She's leaning against the doorframe and looks forlorn, lost. "I thought you'd left," she says softly, the barest hint of relief in her tone. She means away, from her, from the farm, from everything.

"No, I'm here." She's sat directly across from me and is trying to get me to look at her; which I resist at first, but then I do. Her eyes are big and dark brown and full of the same torment as I feel, although she stays gazing steadfastly at me, as if trying to will me back to her.

"But you're still going to Texas." Liss knows me too well, I'm afraid. 

"I've got to, sweetheart. I've just got to." I can see that a part of her understands the impetus behind my decision; yet a part of her is still very hurt and confused, with the barest hint of residual anger.

"I wish you wouldn't." I think of what she told me last night, that she wished I could see and believe what a good person I was, the person she sees in me and the person I can't recognise within myself. You'd think knowing she doesn't blame me for a fucking thing would change my outlook but it's still hard for me to remember what happened and not feel partly responsible. And if Lissy's wishing and hoping were enough, everything would be fine.

"Yeah, I know you do." 

Very gently, she tells me, "Russell, you don't have to be stoic and strong for me anymore. You don't have anything to prove." I look away because I can't bear to see what this is doing to her. "It's okay, honey," she adds, with such tenderness in her voice that I want to cry. When she reaches for me, I stand, pulling away. "It's not okay, Lissy. Why won't you understand that?" It's not and I don't know what to do to make it right. I leave without looking back at her and the last thing I hear is her sobbing. Christ, I've fucking hurt her yet again. This can't go on.

I throw myself into work, because it's the only thing that keeps my mind off of Lissy and our lost child. When I finally allow myself to stop, it's after dark and when I get inside the house, Lissy's already in bed. I don't think she's asleep but she doesn't say anything, just lies there on her side turned away from me. I quickly shower so she doesn't have to sleep with someone who smells like horses and cows, get ready for bed, then climb in next to her. After a moment's hesitation, I move in close to her and spoon with her just like we did last night; only this time I'm too damn tired to make love to her and I'm not sure she'd let me anyhow. She relaxes once I take her in my arms and hold her to me, but we just lie there, neither of us sleeping, for a good long while, before finally, we're both exhausted and we allow ourselves to.

I leave her sleeping and go out to work about the farm the next morning. This time, I come in every so often to eat and to check on her; when I do midday she's quietly waiting for me as usual, and feeds me, not saying much, but treating me with the same gentle, loving care she always has, which almost makes me feel worse. When I stop by the house later, she's gone to see Mum and Dad, left me a note on the kitchen table, but thoughtfully left supper to heat for me. She's gone to eat with them; guess she can't spend the rest of her life pining for me. I reckon, too, she'll probably tell them what's going on, because I know she needs some sort of outlet, but knowing Liss, like the time I overheard her speaking to my mother, she'll ask them not to say anything to me. We're each trapped in a prison of silence, locked away by our own pain and fear, and we can't reach out to each other. Well, Liss is trying; but I'm frozen by my own doubt and can't.

That night, the same thing happens as the night before; I get in after dark, Liss is already in bed, I strip, shower, and then join her. When I hold her I feel her softness and hear her contented sigh, then I kiss the top of her head and snug her in even tighter. Her hands begin that light brushing caress over mine again, but neither of us says a word. Finally, we both sleep, exhausted to the core.

The next morning I leave again before she's up; and this falls into a sort of abnormal pattern for our lives until the day before I'm scheduled to leave for Austin. I could've left for Sydney today or even yesterday, but I'm cutting things close; will barely have time enough to get there to make the flight tomorrow. I wanted to cram every moment I could with Lissy; never mind that I've been working myself into the ground and leaving her alone most days just to fight off the demons plaguing me.

This evening, I come home early enough for supper, and she's there. She doesn't even seem surprised to see me; rather, she's trying to keep things as smoothly nice and normal as she can, though when I look closely at her, when she thinks I'm not watching, I can see the way she's barely managing to keep herself together and how hurt, how fragile she is. The two of us eat and then after cleaning up she tells me she's tired and is going to go to bed.

I follow her and then tell her softly, "I'm headed out tomorrow." 

The last thing I want is this kind of resigned acceptance from her. It'd almost be better if she cried, pleaded with me to stay, or if she screamed and fought and told me what a fuck I'm being. Instead, she only nods. "Maybe you need to do this," is her quiet response.

"Maybe I do." 

"Well, then." She sort of half-shrugs and turns away. I have to try, have to not let this go like this, so I come behind her and pull her into my arms. "Please, don't be angry, Liss," I beg her.

"I'm not. I'm trying to understand. But..." She shakes her head, then simply tells me, "I love you." Turning so she can look into my eyes, she whispers, "I would fight you, but it's useless. It's wrong and doesn't solve anything. Maybe you have to do this, maybe you really do need to go. I don't know. But I..." her voice catches, "...I want to tell you one thing. I'm not letting you go because I don't love you. I'm letting you go because I do." Her eyes well up with tears and she places a hand over her lips to stifle a sob. "I'm letting you go because I love you," she repeats. "Find your way back to me."

I know she's not just talking about my returning here, to the farm, to her, but emotionally as well. I nod, holding her tight, and then I'm kissing her, and then it turns into more and I'm making love to Lissy. Trying to get enough of her to tide me over, trying to express to her how I truly feel about her. Trying to begin to find my way.

In the morning, very early, before dawn, even, I get ready to leave and then, sitting on the edge of the bed, let myself kiss her one last time. She wakes, gazing sleepily, still lovingly at me, and doesn't say anything. I don't either, but I run my hand over her hair, looking deep into her eyes, begging her to understand, to forgive me, and then I leave.

Walking out that door, leaving her behind, is the hardest thing I have ever done. It's all I can do not to turn and run back, to let myself go and take her in my arms again.