JustThisOnce by L.E. Chamberlin Page A

were told we’d hit a point in our marriage where we needed each
other more than ever and had less than ever to give. And this was it. I
couldn’t fix it and I needed him to fix it but he didn’t know how either. We
were stuck.
    I sighed. “And I suppose that’s my fault, right? Because I
sleep with the girls? Natalie likes me to read to her, and I’m just so tired at
night.” I was suddenly defensive and tearful. “You spend all your time in the
garage, anyway. What difference does it make?” I hadn’t expected my anger to
dissolve so quickly into painful weeping. The truth was, underneath all my
anger I loved my husband. I needed my husband. I felt as if I was
simultaneously disappointing myself, Jason and our marriage. And I knew by the
sadness and confusion in his voice that he felt the same way.
    Granted, we’d tried. My mom babysat for us once a month and
in the beginning we always made plans for that weekend, even if it was just to
go to the Best Western across town to be alone. We needed that time away from
the house and our daily pressures, time to reset and get back to what had
brought us together in the first place. And we were great about it at first.
After Emily was born we were packed and ready every Friday morning before we
even left for work. I slipped him naughty notes into his lunch. He called me
and left me steamy voicemail messages that left me breathless with
anticipation. By the time we were on the road we could barely refrain from
stopping at the first dicey roadside motel and ripping one another’s clothes
off.
    In those days we planned little trips up the coast, toured
vineyards and made love in the car by the beach. In lumpy hotel beds we woke
each other up just to fuck and feed each other leftover takeout, giggling and
feeling as if we had all the time in the world. When we returned from our trips
the magic spilled over into daily life, the extended buzz lasting nearly until
the next getaway. But then Natalie came and Jason started working more overtime
so we could pay for family vacations and school tuition and safer cars. And I
took a promotion that gave me more duties and earlier mornings. I kicked into
overdrive every afternoon, picking the girls up from aftercare and shuttling
them to swimming lessons and ballet and doing dinner and homework and baths all
before laying eyes on my husband in the evening. Soon our weekends alone became
about getting things done around the house without having to take care of the
kids. But there was no connection, no taking time for us. We were stuck in a
quicksand of our own making.
    And it was only by a fluke that we’d come to be in the car
alone, driving to a wedding. We were supposed to be driving with another couple
and I’d been frankly more than a little relieved when Jason offered them a
ride. Another couple gave us the excuse to leave even earlier—because they had
an infant son at home and had only hired the sitter for a few hours. As much as
I loved weddings, I didn’t think I could stand to keep the facade up for so
long. Jason and I hadn’t so much as touched one another by accident in nearly
four months. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d even kissed. Weddings were
so public, and so happy, and I just didn’t think I had it in me. But then the
other couple called to say the baby was running a high fever. We’d headed out
alone and I could feel the anxiety simmering in my chest, a hot rock of angry
worry just burning me up. And then the sister comment.
    But I knew what he meant. We weren’t like spouses anymore.
    “What can we do?” My voice must have sounded full of despair
because he looked at me then, his brown eyes gentle and sad. And then he
blurred as scalding tears spilled from me. I turned toward the window and
swiped at them, suddenly embarrassed by my vulnerability.
    “Hey… Don’t… I love you, Sara, I do.”
    I just shook my head, my eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking
between my lashes. It wasn’t going as