“Are you…are you really pierced?”
“You tell me.”
I shake my head. “We’re getting off topic. This was bad. This was really bad.”
“This was good, Pips,” he says and sits up. “I was really impressed with you. The number of things that you kept coming up with, things that bothered you… I was seriously frothing at the mouth, waiting for your next complaint. I loved it. You exceeded my expectations. It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”
That causes me to pause, because…I have done this before.
I’ve been through this.
I’ve experienced this anger.
The yelling.
The wedge placed in the middle of the marriage, constantly being hammered in with every little, pesky fight.
Did I just spend the entire day airing out my grievances from my previous marriage?
I try to think back to what I said, but it all feels like a distant memory now.
“Hey,” Wilder says, his voice growing concerned. “Everything okay?”
But I ignore him as I take a seat in the chair in the corner, slowly beginning to consider my time with Matt.
How he never did anything I asked him to do.
How he complained about buying my feminine products because he believed it was embarrassing.
He never attempted to show interest in what I thought was fascinating.
He never took the blame, never participated in our marriage, and never helped out around the house.
“God, Scottie. Everything is always about you. Nothing is ever good enough for you, no matter what I do, say, or think. I have no idea why I ever wanted to marry you.”
Everything I complained about during that session with Sanders, every little thing, pertained to Matt.God. Will I ever be free of the pain that man caused?
“Scottie?” Wilder asks, concern heavy in his voice.
“I…I need to go.”
Before he can stop me, I leave the cabin and go for a walk.
Chapter Thirteen
WILDER
“Hey,” I say to one of the staff in the main building. “Uh, could I possibly use the pay phone? I want to check on my brother.”
“What’s your name?” the staff member asks.
“Wilder Price,” I say, using my wife’s name.
She checks her books and then nods while reaching into a container full of quarters. “You have ten minutes.”
I take the quarter from her, thank her, and then head into the UK-style pay phone that’s off in the corner. I shut the door behind me, pick up the receiver, drop in the change, and then dial Mika’s phone number.
I turn toward the main building so I can see if anyone walks up behind me and wait as the phone rings.
