LIA
“So how was your flight back?” I ask, unsure of what to say to him. His presence is completely unexpected. I’m having a hard time processing he’s even here, let alone digesting the conversation I just had with Breaker.
“It was fine. Got some work done, thankfully,” Brian says as he loosens his tie.
Yes, thank God for that. Can’t imagine what would happen if he didn’t get work done.
“Well, uh, are you hungry? I can order food.”
“I just really want to talk to you.” His eyes go to my hair as he approaches me. Does he still hate it? He hasn’t said he loves it, that’s for sure. He takes my hands in his and asks, “Is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here, let’s sit,” he says as he brings me over to my couch. Once we’re seated, a few inches between us, he continues. “I know the wedding planning has been stressful on you, and I’m worried that maybe you’re not handling it all well, hence the haircut and color.”
Excuse me?
“What do you mean? I cut my hair and highlighted it because I wanted to, not because of the stress of the wedding.”
“Lia,” he says in his condescending tone. “I’ve known you for over a year now, and you’ve never made such a drastic change like this before. I’m just worried the stress is overwhelming, your parents aren’t around, you’re trying to find some semblance of control, and your appearance is the one thing you feel you can control. So you cut your hair. I’m worried this pattern will continue, and who knows what you will do next.”
I rear back, absolutely offended by his assumption. Firstly, where does he come off, even thinking he has a say in my appearance? Secondly, does he truly not see how happy I was in that picture I sent him?
“Brian, it’s a haircut. It’s not like I went off and tattooed a penis on my face. And my decision to do this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I wanted to feel pretty.”
“You were just fine before. There’s no need to change anything.”
“Just fine?” I ask, rising from the couch. “I was just fine before? Couldn’t think of a better adjective than that?”
He presses his hand to his forehead. “Pretty, I meant pretty.” He lets out a huff. “It’s been a long day. I’ve been worried about you, and getting this flight was hard, so excuse me if my words are not what they’re supposed to be right now.”
“I need your words to not be condescending, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
“Where is this all coming from?” he asks. “I feel like you’re angry with me.”
What clued you in? Good God.
“I am angry with you,” I shout. “Jesus, Brian. This whole wedding and dealing with your mom and your reaction to my hair, it’s been a nightmare. And you . . . you never want to have sex with me. Why is that?”
He looks at me, confused. “Yes, I do,” he says.
“No, you don’t. We haven’t had sex in two weeks. Don’t you think that’s weird? Don’t you think we should be at each other’s bodies every chance we get, peeling off our clothes and finding pleasure in each other?”
“It’s been a rough couple of weeks, Lia.”
“We didn’t even have sex the night you proposed. I fell asleep while you were on a business call.”
“With clients from Japan. What choice do I have?” he asks, his voice growing angrier.
“You have a choice, and it’s called me, but you don’t choose me. Am I just some sort of . . . accessory to your life check-off list?”
“No, Lia,” he says as he stands and moves toward me. “I love you. You’re going to be my wife.”
“Then why don’t you want to have sex with me?”
“I do,” he says, his hands going to my shoulders. “It’s just . . . it’s been hard lately, okay?”
“Are you . . . are you cheating on me? Are you getting sex somewhere else, and that’s why you don’t want to do it with me?”
“Lia,” he says sternly. “Don’t even fucking say that. You know that’s not the kind of man I am.” And I believe him because he might work long nights and sometimes say the wrong thing, but I know for certain that Brian would never do that. His dad cheated on his mom many times, and he saw how that hurt her. He always said he would never do that to his wife.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say, feeling shameful for bringing it up. “Do you think we’re in some sort of rut? I mean, you don’t even like it when I give you a blow job.”
“I’ve never liked them, Lia. It’s not just you. I feel bad when a girl has to just sit there and suck on my dick, okay?”
“But what if I wanted to?” I ask, trailing my fingers up his shirt.
He stops my touch and links our hands together. “I still feel like it’s demeaning. You deserve better than to have to pleasure me like that.”
“It’s not demeaning,” I say. “It’s a way to show your partner how you love them.”
He shakes his head. “It’s demeaning to me.”
“Okay, then what about like . . . spanking or toys? We’ve never tried that.”
“Because we don’t need that kind of fanfare. I don’t need a vibrator to get you off. I can do that myself.” Not every time, though . . .
“It’s not about you not being able to get me off. It’s about having fun, doing new things.”
“Let’s just stop talking about it, okay? That’s not a concern at the moment.”
“It is for me,” I say, my voice rising. “I don’t want to marry someone who doesn’t want to have sex with me, Brian.”
“Excuse me?” he asks. “You don’t want to marry me?”
“No, I do. I’m just saying we’re having some issues, and I think they need to be sorted before we get married. I think it’s important.”
“The only issue I have is that you seem to be getting these ideas in your head about me, and I have no clue where they’re coming from. We were fine before all of this, so why now? Why are you second-guessing our relationship?”
“I’m not second-guessing, I’m just trying to iron out some kinks, and I don’t think I should be chastised for that. I mean, when I’ve asked you for your support with your mom about the wedding stuff, you take her side. Don’t you think you should be taking your future wife’s side?”
“Why does there have to be a side? Why isn’t there a compromise?”
“Because your mom doesn’t understand the word compromise.”
“Pretty sure she’s cut down the guest list, we’re now getting married in a garden rather than a church, and there are daisies in the wedding to represent your mom. None of those were on my mother’s list to begin with.”
“Your mother shouldn’t even have a list. Your mother shouldn’t be this involved.”
“She’s representing me, Lia. Since I’m busy, she’s taking on the responsibility of standing up for what I want.”
“Oh really?” I ask. “So you believe it’s imperative to have roses at your wedding?”
“Yes, I think they’re eloquent.”
“Please, Brian. You couldn’t care less what’s happening at the wedding. You’re just going to show up.”