Frozen Flames Novel – My husband and I have been married for ten years, but he is getting busier at work and rarely comes home. A little more happiness dies inside of me. I’m not sure how much longer we can go on living like this; together, yet so far apart. – “You know I love you, right?” Sadness is heavy in his tone. My eyes cloud with tears, and I clamp my lips together to conceal a sob. “I do.” I don’t know why I’m so upset. “I love you, too.” “We’ll book a vacation as soon as I’m back. I promise,” he assures me. “God, I just remembered I have a business dinner tonight. I have to hang up.” Like a bucket of iced water is tipped over my head, I’m brought back to reality. We’re a mess. Maybe it’s time to take some time apart.
Dragging my pointer finger up the brushed steel handrail of the staircase, I pull it away and rub my fingertips together, letting out an amused chuckle as it confirms what I already know; our home is immaculate. There isn’t a speck of dust to be seen, nor a piece of furniture out of place in the fixer-upper house Ash and I renovated ten years ago and is now the place we call home. Although it doesn’t feel like home. During hockey season, Ash is rarely ever home for longer than a few days at a time, so for seven months of the year I spend a lot of time by myself. Alone. Having a demanding job as head coach of the Edmonton Eagles, Ash spends a lot of his time at work, talking about work or locked in his office at work and at home watching game tapes, reviewing player technique and positioning.
Slowing down videos, analyzing every minute detail, his dedication to the game is what makes him one of the best coaches in the NHL. Coaching the team he loves has become more than a full-time job, though; much like mine, his job consumes him. While Ash throws himself into the hockey team, I’ve directed all my energy into growing my business, Tiger Lily Events. The hard work has paid off and my business has grown exponentially, employing over fifty people who support me to manage, market, plan, and execute creative and memorable events.However, the happiness my job brings me isn’t enough to fill the huge Ash-shaped hole in my life. Reaching the top of the glass stairs, I’m acutely aware of how much colder my feet have become. It’s as if the cool glass against my soles is preparing me for getting into an equally cold bed.
By myself. Ash’s flight should have already landed and I’m expecting him home soon, although he hasn’t called yet. I’m sure my girlfriends don’t have time to think about how many days and nights their hockey husbands spend away from home, or ever get lonely because they all have families. Ash and I are the only couple who never had children. Because, despite how hard we tried or how much help we had, we couldn’t. Having a family was something we always dreamed about when we were younger, yet we no longer even bring it up anymore. I would have loved to have a child. Just one happy, bouncing baby. A part of me and a part of Ash. That’s all I ever wanted. I still do. A little more happiness dies inside of me because it’s something I have been giving a lot of thought to lately. At thirty-eight, I’m certain my ovaries have already given up their dream of fulfilling their purpose; to create life. I know I have. After years of trying to conceive naturally and three failed rounds of IVF, we called it a day, promising to revisit it again when things were less stressful.
As time passed, Ash moved from playing hockey to coaching and the pain of all those failed attempts meant it was something we discussed less and less. The truth is, it was rough on my body; the injections, hormones, the disappointment of seeing the single line on the pregnancy test every month—they were all emotionally taxing, and I felt completely isolated from my friends, who all conceived with ease. With no one to speak to, or who understood the sadness and loss I felt of a future I always dreamed about, I struggled with episodes of fear and anxiety. Instead of talking to a therapist, I chose to throw myself into my career, as did Ash. We turned away from each other and did everything we could to hide our pain. A lump the size of a melon forms in my throat and lingers for a minute too long, knowing that it may be too late to consider raising a family of our own. Ignoring my anguish, I move in the direction of the master bedroom and I can’t help but reflect on how different things used to be.
When we first started dating, and in the first few years of our marriage, Ash and I were inseparable, sharing everything. We never wanted to be separated but when we were, the love, understanding, loyalty, and respect we had for one another was deeper than the ocean because we both allowed one another to chase our own goals, never sacrificing each other’s dreams of becoming successful. After retiring from playing professional hockey, Ash became the assistant coach for the Eagles four years ago. One year later, he was promoted to head coach. We were both so excited about his new position, but we knew coaching would mean even more time and effort than playing had involved. Conversations about starting a family fell to the wayside, replaced with everything that came from being head coach.
Even though we both knew what to expect, it was a lot and his workload has only grown with the team’s success… with his success as a coach. The thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth because he has a family… his team. While I am here, on my own. We are both so busy being, well, busy. Our lives are passing us by, and I can’t help but feel that if we don’t start ma king changes now, we may be making the biggest mistakes of our lives. I’m not sure how much longer we can go on living like this; together, yet so far apart. I love him with every bone in my body, and I know he loves me too. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know this, because he tells me every day via voice messages or texts. He calls me in between meetings and interviews and right after every game. If I tell him I saw a cute purse in the mall, he’ll call the store and have it delivered to me. My husband is incredibly kind, caring, and the most loyal man I know. He’s the perfect man. If only he was around more.
The enormity of my circumstances blindsides me, a pain squeezing my heart with a huge feeling of emptiness. I jump in shock when the ringer of my phone sounds, but instantly smile when I see Ash’s name. I fall onto the bed and accept the call, pulling my silk rope around me to keep me warm. “Hey, you”. “Baby.” His voice is low as he groans down the phone. My words come out breathy and low, as heat pools between my thighs. “It’s been so long since we had intercourse.” Ash exhales a loud sigh that sounds heavy with disappointment. “Too long, baby. Far too long.” “We never see each other anymore, Ash. I miss you.” I find myself longing for change. Something’s got to give. “I miss you too. This job is taking up more of my time than I ever thought it would.” He lets out a frustrated groan. “It’s okay,” I lie. “We’re both busier now t han we’ve ever been.” We’re both at fault.
Silence stretches between us and then he finally says, “You know I love you, right? More than ever, I love you.” Sadness is heavy in his tone. My eyes cloud with tears, and I clamp my lips together to conceal a sob because it’s what I want to hear. “Lily, please tell me you know I love you,” he pleads, and when I take another minute to compose myself, he asks again. “Lily, please?” “I do.” I don’t know why I’m so upset. “I love you, too.” I’ve loved him since the day I met him. Sixteen years ago, when I was just twenty-two, I knew he was the one. “We’ll book a vacation as soon as I’m back. I’ll make not being around tonight up to you. I promise,” he assures me.
“I just remembered I said yes to us having dinner with Bree and Troy tomorrow night. The whole gang has been invited. I hve to hang up.” Like a bucket of iced water is tipped over my head, I’m brought back to reality. We’re a mess; we’ve become yes people. Their dinner parties go on for hours and I know we’ll roll into bed in the wee small hours of the morning, having consumed far too much wine and be too tired to be capable of having intercourse. When I try to speak, I want to tell him I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I don’t feel like I am. I’m the loneliest. Maybe it’s time to take some time apart.