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Julia T. Williams | The Last Exhale
writer, writing, storyteller, advocate for well-being, storytelling, parallel pasts, the last exhale,
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Sydney Holmes and Brandon Carter find out what happens when the truth is revealed in marriage and how to put the pieces together as a result.


I wrote this book to tackle a big issue in relationships: the consequences of denying the truth. The truth is many of us have been in relationships we had no business being in, and unfortunately, some of us still are. For myriad reasons, we entertain people we know good and well we are not interested in long term (often, not even short term), yet we go on date after date, spend night after night, and before we know it, feelings have grown for the wrong person. Marriage comes (maybe) then kids (not always in that order), and it’s then when we face the truth: this person is not who I was supposed to be with. But you knew that at the gate and entered anyway. I wrote this book for you. Find out who you are, what you want and need, and be honest with yourself first before you allow someone else into the equation.


Read an exclusive chapter below. 

3

Brandon Carter

 

I’m lying in bed.

 

The sound of water dripping from a recently shut off shower draws my attention to the woman I married nearly a decade ago.

 

I watch her through the cracked bathroom door. Her movements are calculated, methodical. So matter-of-fact. She gathers drenched jet black coils, squeezes as much water out as she can, smooths them into a ponytail with her hands. Braids up twelve inches of frizz, wraps it around itself until it can’t wrap anymore. Forms a knot at the back of her head.

 

My warm feet find their way from under the covers and hit a cold floor. I wince at the change in temperature as I move to the space to join the love of my life.

 

I wrap my arms around her waist, lips touch her naked shoulder. I whisper, “Morning, love.”

 

She moves away from my embrace.

 

I turn on the faucet, rinse my mouth out with water, then reach for my toothbrush. My eyes watch my wife through the mirror as she brushes down resistant frizz. She sees me looking at her, but deliberately keeps her eyes from making contact. I swish water and toothpaste around in my mouth while debating if I should tell her about our reservations for the night. Maybe things will be different.

 

She grabs her body oil, heads into the room. Leaves me in this space alone. Reminds me of how I’ve been feeling in this marriage as of late. Every morning I awake with the hope things will be different. And every morning, I’m hit with the reality that nothing has changed.

 

I put my mental anguish on hold while I hop in the shower. Step under the water headfirst, let the hotness beat against my bald head until I feel my scalp burn.

 

Rene’s shadow reenters the bathroom before she does. Her presence makes the water feel Antarctic.

 

I can’t take this anymore. The shower door swings open. I find myself standing on the outside, dripping wet, standing in front of my wife. “What’s happened to you? What’s happened to us?”

 

Still avoiding eye contact, she looks down at the bath rug.

 

“Enough with the silence, Rene.”

 

Her stance is defiant, eyes on mine.

 

More silence.

 

We stand.

 

We stare.

 

“Nothing, Rene? You have nothing to say?”

 

Her eyes travel down from mine, give their attention to the area below my chest. She blinks, walks out of the bathroom with not so much as one word, but her look of disgust tells me everything.

 

All of a sudden, I become self-conscious. Grab a towel, wrap it around my expanding waistline. I follow behind her. “It’s my weight, isn’t it? I’ve gained a few pounds, I get it. But that doesn’t deserve this.”

 

Rene’s lips part, a heavy sigh thrusts out. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Brandon.” She shakes her head and walks down the stairs to the kitchen.

 

My footsteps continue to mirror hers. “You haven’t said much at all lately, so I fill in the blanks where I see fit.”

 

She walks over to the sink, looks back at me, stares at me while she rinses out a glass. A lot is written across her face, but I can’t read anything. Can’t break the code. Need Robert Langdon to come in and read her like he did The Da Vinci Code.

 

“Tell me something, Rene. Tell me my breath stinks. Tell me I’ve gained weight. Tell me you’re no longer happy. Just tell me something.”

 

She just stands there, looks through me.

 

Inside the refrigerator is her lunch. I pull out the container of Caesar salad with garlic shrimp on top I made for her last night. Put it in her bag. Do that to gather my thoughts before I lose it and say some things to my wife I’ll never be able to take back. I push her packed lunch to the side and stare at her. “What happened to us, Rene?”

 

Lips I haven’t kissed for too long to remember tell me, “Nothing.”

 

Her response isn’t enough for me. “Do you still love me?” If she says yes, I’ll fight to make this marriage work. If she says no, I’ll give her hell. Either way, I have work to do.

 

She grabs her lunch, says, “Thank you,” and heads for the garage.

 

Still wrapped in nothing but a towel, I watch her get in the car. She lets her eyes dance with mine long enough for me to see a glimpse of light behind them, a hint of a twinkle. It gives me hope for the future.

 

For now, my questioning is sufficed.