Tuesday, April 19
It's three in the morning, and I am sick as a dog. Whoever coined the phrase "morning sickness" is full of crap, because let me tell you it is an all-day ordeal. I cannot eat anything that has an odor. I can't even wash my clothes in scented detergent. I gag uncontrollably and lying down only makes it worse.
Something I am also baffled by is the weight gain. I swear in the past week I haven't kept more than a few meals down, and I have gained two pounds. How is that possible? Oh, the joys of pregnancy. And it has just begun.
Anyway, in between trips to the bathroom to vomit I have been watching this movie. It's an old Goldie Hawn/Chevy Chase movie called Seems Like Old Times. Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase's characters are divorced, but they meet back up and discover they still have feelings for each other. Their lives are going in different directions, though, and despite the immense love they have for each other, they stay apart.
I find myself completely relating to this plot. Just like Goldie's character, I completely concede the fact that I love David, the Chevy Chase character. But our lives are so different. Our personalities, our hopes, and dreams. At least I think they are.
What are my hopes and dreams anyway?
Well, I remember in high school, sitting in this very room, I spent a lot of time mapping out my life. I wanted to be one of the most successful models in the world. Mission accomplished, if I do say so myself. I also wanted a "real" career. Well, even though private investigation is not the occupation I imagined going into, I can say that it satisfies the requirement. I also wanted a family with a nice house, good kids, and a husband who worships me. That has yet to be fulfilled.
It's not like I haven't been proposed to. And I am not talking about the perverted fan letters that I used to get from guys during my modeling days. I mean, offers that were good and sometimes I wonder why I passed them up.
The first serious one came in college, from Sam. I really would have married him then, but I knew I was going to be in Europe a lot, and it really wouldn't make any sense. I can tell you, though, that in the years since I have sometimes regretted that decision. You'd think that I would have said yes when he asked me again a few months ago. Truth is that I'm glad I said no. Both times. I love Sam but not in the way a woman should love her husband. I love him like I love my favorite pair of slippers or a sunny day. You don't need them, but you just enjoy them because they're there. It's a convenient kind of love. The type I know I wouldn't put much work in to preserving if it was ever tested.
There is nothing convenient about my love for David. I don't know if that makes it better or worse. Over the past few weeks, I have thought a lot about this, how I define my love for David, that is, and I'm not sure if I CAN'T figure it out or if I don't WANT to figure it out. Or maybe I don't want to admit to myself how much I really do love him.
I suppose if this whole journal thing is going to work, I have to write down all my thoughts, even the ones I hate that I am having. I just don't like how seeing them in writing lends them importance. When they are in my head, I can shove them around, so they are hard to find. That way I don't have to deal with them.
I know, I am avoiding the subject, aren't I?
Anyway, how do I love David? The best way I can explain it is this. I love Sam because it was the right thing to do. I chose to. I love David because I couldn't help myself. It's wild and deep and so beyond my human strength that it takes my breath away. I can't control how much I crave it. It's like a drug, and the more I have the more I want. And I can no longer tell the difference between desire and need. And that's what is so dangerous.
Any amount of common sense would tell you that if something is dangerous, stay away from it. But here is the kicker. It's when I try to keep my distance that I am the most miserable. David said to me once "Blondie, the thing about you is if you are not IN CONTROL of a situation, you LOSE CONTROL." I would never admit this to his face, but he is right.
I am still amazed I had the willpower to say no to David when he asked me to marry him. Usually, one look in his deep blue eyes and I melt. But this time... I remember it so clearly. It was at his apartment late one night after we had just wrapped up a case. He bought champagne to celebrate, and of course we ended up in bed before we could drink any. But just as I was about to fall asleep, he asked me to fish the corkscrew out of the nightstand drawer. He had the oddest look on his face, and I was just about to express my disgust at his need to keep a corkscrew in the bedroom when I came across it. It was a small black velvet box, and I could tell by the markings it was from Harry Winston.
I remember how he pulled it out of my trembling hand and wordlessly opened the box. I still have no idea how he could afford it. I mean, this was no little diamond chip. He must have read my expression because all he said was, "I only want the best for my wife."
His voice was little more than a whisper, the tone I love so much. Tears welled in his eyes, and the beginnings of his trademark smirk pulled at the corners at his mouth. I couldn't speak myself, too struck by how much I loved the word "wife" rolling off his tongue. For a split second, I thought this was the moment I had waited for my whole life. A commitment from a man I truly loved. But somehow, I couldn't say yes. I don't know why.
All I do know is that my silence was interpreted as a "no", and as quickly as the moment had happened upon us, it was over. David shut the box with a loud snap and unceremoniously threw it back in the drawer. We never talked about it again.
I remember once having this conversation with a bunch of girls on a modeling tour in Milan. We were wondering if people had a one and only soul mate. I laughed it off at the time, but now I think the idea has some merit. I do think David and I were destined to meet, fall in love. I just don't know if that guarantees happily ever after.
I cannot micromanage destiny. But that doesn't stop me from trying.
Well, I feel another trip to the porcelain God coming on. I should just sleep in the bathtub.
Tuesday, April 26
Okay, I am a little embarrassed to address this topic, but I shouldn't be. After all, I am a liberated, independent woman who revels in her sexual assertiveness. There is no reason I should be bashful.
I need... well... I guess you could say I am craving sexual attention, or as David would say, "horny." I don't know what it is. I have gone much longer than this without physical intimacy before. It must be all the pregnancy hormones. All I know is… I think about it a lot, and I dream about it almost every night. With lots of different men. Not at once! One dream is about Clint Eastwood. The next it’s Robert Redford. And of course, I dream about David all the time.
I mean it sincerely when I say David is the best lover I ever had. I don't gush about it to him, he doesn't need his ego boosted more than it already is, but I reassure him when he asks me if I enjoyed it.
It's not the physical nature of David Addison that makes it so good with him. I mean yeah, he has a great body with great... parts... but that's just one aspect of it. I have to say without reservation that he is probably the most sensitive lover I have ever had.
I had always figured that if and when David and I ever had sex it would be wild and animalistic; Crazy, frenzied, and physical. But it hasn't turned out that way. Sure, we've had our share of crazy quickies and broken our share of furniture, but lots of times it's quite the opposite. He takes his time. He is slow, deliberate, and sensual. A side of David I knew that existed but had no idea how adept he was in expressing it.
I remember the first night we made love. At first it was crazy. One minute we were screaming at each other and the next, clawing each other on my living room floor. But all of a sudden, the mood changed. Like someone threw a switch or something. I remember him pulling away from our kiss, and just staring at me with glassy blue eyes. It was like he was asking my permission or making sure that what we were doing was what I wanted.
He carried me to bed and for a few good minutes we just kissed until we both knew this was meant to be. That's when he stopped again, looked me dead in the eye and told me he loved me. It was the first time he had ever said it.
I have never experienced a man more tender than David. He knows exactly what I need when I need it. Where to touch me, when to hold me. It's funny but in the bedroom, there has always been a meeting of the minds. Not once has he made me feel less than the most desirable woman in the world to him. Who could ask for more than that?
Then why am I?
Saturday, April 30
I love my mother with all my heart, but if Mom asks me again if I am okay, I am going to scream. I know I shouldn't complain. Both my parents have been nothing but supportive of all. I'm just edgy. Hormones, I guess.
I know how lucky I am to have parents like mine. Some people my age have lost their parents already or simply don't get along with them. I have always been on the same page as my parents, and even though I live across the country from them, I consider us close.
Sometimes I feel sorry for David. He isn't close with his father at all, and he is squeamish around his stepmom Stephanie for reasons I won't bother to discuss. He does get along with his brother for the most part, but he doesn't keep that closely in touch. I have suggested that he call Richie from time to time, or even go visit him in Philadelphia, but he never seems that interested.
I wish I knew more about David's mom. He NEVER talks about her, but from what I have gleaned from Richie, it sounds like she was a really wonderful woman. Richie was fourteen and David was twelve when she died, of what I am not exactly sure. Richie told me that David and she were very close, and when she was alive the Addison household was a happy one. Church on Sunday, Little League games, summers at their family retreat in Upstate NY.
But after she was gone, everything kind of fell apart. Mr. Addison withdrew from the boys, spending all his time with his business. They quit playing Little League, and there were no more summer vacations. In David's eyes, Mr. Addison was to blame for everything. He regarded it his father's job to keep his family safe and resented him for failing miserably. David still blames his father for not protecting his mom from whatever killed her, and according to Ritchie, on the day they buried her, David swore that he would succeed where his father had failed, and when he grew up, he would never let any harm come to his family.
The Addison boys had to raise themselves, and David really never got over his mother's death. Richie says for a year after, every morning on his way to school David would visit his mom's grave. Some mornings, Richie would secretly follow, hiding behind tombstones and mausoleums so he wouldn't be discovered. Every day it was the same; David would give her headstone a kiss and sing over and over "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." It was his mother's favorite hymn and the song she would sing to coax the boys back to sleep after a nightmare.
I know his mother's death is something that still deeply affects him, and I also know it has influenced his respect for the family unit. Whenever we have a case that has to do with divorce or a spouse's death, David always asks if there are children involved and how they are. I remember just recently we had this case involving Margaret Kendal. We were investigating the integrity of her fiancé and her father didn't much approve of him. Anyway, her mother had died when she was small, and her father had raised her. To me she was just another case, but for some reason David really took it to heart.
I vividly remember a conversation we had about her. Right after we had closed the case, we ended up in bed. I was just about to fall asleep when I realized David was wide-awake staring at the ceiling. I was sure he was mulling over our situation, but he denied it. He just turned to me and said, "I was just thinking about Margaret Kendal. Her dad is gone, and I know what it's like not have a mother. It's hard losing your mom when you're young. You don't ever get over it. You're never really happy. I mean, you are... It's kind of like having an ice cream sundae and never being allowed the cherry on top. There's always something missing. That guy better take care of her."
He kissed me on my forehead and held me tighter than he ever had before. For the first time, I think ever, I realized just how painful his mother's passing was. I mean here he was in bed with his... me... and he is talking about missing his mom. But I know what he was saying. To him a mother transcends everything. He puts them on pedestals. I just hope that if this is his child, I will make him happy, and have my child love me the way he loved his mother.
Tuesday, May 3
I swear I am showing. My clothes are tighter, and I can definitely see a difference in my shape even if nobody else can. It's strange to think that there is something growing inside of me.
I cannot believe I have already put on eight pounds... How is that possible when I am vomiting all the time? If I was going to gain the weight, I would at least like to get a few good meals out of it. Oh well, if the doctor isn't worried, then I shouldn't be. I just wish I could fit into my clothes.
For the most part, I am happy with my body. I know I don't have the same physique that I did when I was eighteen, but I still look good in a swimsuit. David loves my legs. I can't tell you how many piggish ways he has asked me to wear a mini skirt to work.
I wonder what David will think of me when he sees me? I mean when he sees how my body has changed. Not that I am insecure. After all, pregnancy is a very natural thing, and I strongly believe that a pregnant woman's body is beautiful. I just wonder if David will think so.
Okay I admit it, maybe I am a little self-conscious. I just wonder if David will still feel the same attraction to me when I'm nine months pregnant as he does when I am toned and slim. He has always made such a big deal about my physical appearance, and I admit that I love his attention. Sometimes, though, I wonder if he would think less of me if I wasn't the Blue Moon Shampoo Girl. What if I was just another blonde?
I can't tell you how many times I have caught him looking at my framed covers on my bedroom wall. Sometimes I would pretend I didn't notice, but once in a while I would tease him and ask what he is looking at. Usually he just smiled, say something lewd, and laugh it off. But once he said something I will never forget. He said, "You don't have to look like that for me to love you, Maddie Hayes."
Corny, I know, but it was just what I wanted to hear. All my life I never knew if men wanted me simply because I had a nice face or because I was a nice person. Most people before David knew me as the Blue Moon Shampoo Girl, world famous supermodel with a pretty smile and a nice rack. David knows me as Maddie Hayes, entrepreneur with substance and smarts. Of course, he likes how I look, but he loves me for who I am.
Well, I should look at things this way: David now has much more of me to look at.
Tuesday, May 10
I am feeling a little lonely tonight. I could use a close friend, a buddy. This is one of those few times that I wish I had a sister to confide in.
David has a lot of friends, and I am sometimes envious of that. I would NEVER admit that to him, but it’s true. He has his basketball friends, his softball friends, his drinking friends. I haven't met many, but whenever I have seen David in his element, he is always the ringleader, ready and willing to have a good time.
I wouldn't know how to be a ringleader, and I guess over the years I have depended on David to entertain me. He worries sometimes that I don't "go out" or "do things" enough. I think he thinks I am lonely. But the truth is I like solitude. Being alone doesn't bother me. I can do what I want, when I want to, without worrying about anyone else. Everything is on my time and done my way. Being David seems so complicated, always going in different directions with never a moment's peace. But I love him like that. He wouldn't be David if he wasn't complicated, and I wouldn't miss him if he didn't keep me guessing.
To be continued...