I stomped up my front steps and flung open the frontdoor.
I did love my wife. Shealways--
Shewould--
I stood in the middle of my dark living room,alone.
Stop lying to yourself. So many things about Sheri disturbed me. If I stayed still for just a minute and thought about it, looked back on our relationship in the solitude I found myself in, it would be clearer. The truth was, I preferred the Sheri I got when we were alone to the wild, uncontrollable party girl one who emerged in front of other people. She tried desperately to impress everyone and anyone who would listen. She’d bounce around a room, spinning tales of fictional hardships and dramatic fabrications of some heroic deed or suffrage she fell victim to. She was like a category five hurricane, sweeping your feet right out from underyou.
Sheri was impulsive and violently possessive, erratic and overwhelmingly emotional. Small incidents would set her off into full-blown adult tantrums. She would fly off the handle if the local supermarket didn’t have gummy bears, or some days my just asking what she wanted me to pick up for dinner set her off spiraling into a crazy explosion of screaming and sobbingfits.
And I was always there to rescue her, to save her from herself. At least that’s what she pretended washappening.
I held on to the belief that I just needed to love her a little harder, needed to save her from herself, then she could be happy. We had a family. I just needed to take care of everyone more, love everyone more—enough for the both of us, but the only thing I ended up doing was having to keep reminding her she was a wife and mother, beautiful and smart, worthsomething.
All along, I thought if I loved her enough, I could fixher.
I slowly spun around, rubbing my hand across my chest. There was an ache there that wouldn’t to go away. I turned and turned, looking at how empty my house was, how quiet andsad.
The only time Sheri was ever happy anywhere with me was when she was high. I used to smoke the occasional joint with her, but I never cared for being out of control like she did. We had four months together before she got pregnant. I didn’t really know her at all. Her pregnancy was so hard, all I did was cater to her and my unborn child. And after, I was too busy taking care of kids and working to see how unhappy and sick she was. She hid it from mecompletely.
Shame on me for not seeing, not stopping and asking why all this shit kept onhappening.
I sat on the couch and stared at the walls. I didn’t know what todo.
I flipped through my phone, wondering if maybe I should just throw a little text Callie’s way. Callie went through this. She always said the right things to me. She would understand when even Ididn’t.
Hey,Itexted.
I stared down at the phone, willing the three little bouncy dots to appear, letting me know she wasreplying.
There weren’t any, ofcourse.
I blinked up. There was a big crack in the paint on mywall.
Anything. I needed to think about anything other than Callie with another man in her bed and how I shouldn’t carebecause I was fuckingmarried.
My head was ripping in two, my heart shredding right down the middle.Why couldn’t I get it all undercontrol?
I pulled the contact up for Sergeant Max Kannon and hit the call button. He answered on the first ring; he was somewherenoisy.
"Kannon here,” hegrunted.
“Sergeant Kannon? This is Dylan. Dylan Sanborn. Remember,my—”
“Hey, son,” he said warmly. “Yougood?”
“I’m not so suretonight.”
“Well, I’m off duty. Having a drink at The Fountain. If you want to stop in, a beer might help,” heoffered.
“Yeah,” I said automatically. “That sounds like an awesome idea. I’ll be there in tenminutes.”
I said a quick goodbye and checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. Shit. I had streaks of grease and oil across my forehead.No one told me?I scrubbed my face clean and changed my shirt. I didn’t bother shaving; a little scruff never scaredanyone.
I locked up and stood on the front lawn, watching Callie's window. Her bedroom lights were a dull glow, and that goddamn car was still parked there. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked for messages.Nothing.
I didn’t have the right to bemad.
