PART 7 – The Two Little Faces in My Arms Reminded Me Why I Could Not Let His Excuses Decide What Happened Next

Ryan kept looking at me.

I could tell he wanted me to say something that would make the conversation easier.

Maybe he wanted me to become angry.

Maybe he wanted me to cry.

Maybe he wanted me to ask him to come home and explain everything.

I couldn't say.

But I knew what I wanted.

I wanted to stop feeling as though I had to protect his feelings.

For months, I had thought about how difficult his work must be.

I had understood the long hours.

I had understood the time away.

I had understood that being on a ship meant living in a different routine.

I had never demanded that he give up everything for me.

I had only expected him to remember that he had a wife and two daughters waiting for him.

Apparently, that expectation had been too much.

The woman finally spoke.

"Ryan, maybe we should go."

He turned toward her.

I looked at her, too.

A few minutes earlier, she had seemed amused by the whole situation.

Now she looked as though she wanted to disappear from it.

I didn't know what Ryan had told her about me.

I didn't know what she believed about our marriage.

I wasn't going to guess.

But I knew she had seen the babies.

She knew I was his wife.

And she had heard him explain his behavior.

I looked at Ryan.

"Did she know about the girls?"

He didn't answer.

I waited.

"Did you tell her you had two daughters?"

His eyes moved away from mine.

That silence was difficult to watch.

I had imagined him speaking proudly about our babies.

I had imagined him showing their pictures to people.

I had imagined him telling everyone that he was going to be a father.

Instead, I was standing there asking whether the woman beside him even knew about his children.

Ryan finally spoke.

"She knows."

I looked at him.

"Then she knows you're married."

He nodded slightly.

I felt my throat tighten.

There wasn't much left to say.

The woman moved her suitcase a little farther away from us.

I noticed the sound of its wheels against the floor.

It was an ordinary sound.

A suitcase rolling across a terminal.

But I knew I would remember it.

I had spent the journey imagining the sound of Ryan approaching us.

I had imagined his footsteps.

I had imagined him laughing.

Instead, the sound I remembered was that suitcase.

I adjusted the baby against my shoulder.

One of the girls opened her eyes briefly.

I looked at her tiny face.

And something became clear.

Whatever Ryan had done, I couldn't allow his behavior to decide the kind of mother I would be.

I couldn't spend the rest of my life begging him to value us.

I couldn't make his choices my responsibility.

I had two daughters who needed someone dependable.

They needed love.

They needed stability.

They needed a mother who could make difficult decisions even when her heart was hurting.

I looked back at Ryan.

"I came here because you said you wanted to meet them."

He lowered his head.

"I do want to meet them."

I believed that he might want to hold them.

But wanting something and being ready to take responsibility for it were not the same thing.

I didn't know what would happen between us.

I didn't know what our marriage would become after that day.

But I knew I could no longer pretend that everything was normal.

For the first time, I stopped thinking about how to save the reunion.

I started thinking about how to protect the family I had carried here.

Click here to continue reading: PART 8: I Had Come Prepared to Welcome My Husband Home, but I Was Beginning to Understand What His Return Really Meant