A sarcastic noise nearly escapes my throat but gets trapped there as I realize that not even twelve hours ago, my best friend was damn near begging me to talk things out with him. Well, Ellie. I hope you’re happy. You fucking spoke this into existence. I’m letting it rip.
The venom in my voice can’t be helped as I continue. “So I stopped working out. Yes, I eat more junk food than I should. I’ve ‘let myself go,’ or whatever.” I make sarcastic air quotes on those words with a scathing face and mocking voice to match. The concept of wanting to stay hot for your partner sounds dated, but most of the couples I know try to stay attractive for one another, at least for a while. But I no longer care like I used to.
“I stopped fucking trying for you. But it pisses me the fuck off that you don’t even notice or care one way or the other. And I have resorted to a relationship with my fucking vibrator instead of trying to make love to my own husband, because I feel likeyou,” I clap my hands in his face to punctuate each word.
“don’t”
CLAP
“fucking”
CLAP
“care”
CLAP
“aboutmeanymore.”
He looks stunned, but Istilldon’t stop my tirade. I pace the cracked concrete patio in frustration as he stands frozen, watching me. These bitter thoughts, this callous onslaught of doubt in our relationship, the foundation of our family as a whole, it’s been on loop—a nonstop cascade in my mind for so long now, and he’s gonna fucking hear about it.
“And I know you’re a good dad. You’re such a good fucking dad, Chance. And you do so much around this house, for me, for the kids, for our family. I’m not saying you don’t. Iknowyou work hard, and maybe I’m not being fucking fair on you by focusing on all the bad instead of all that’s good in our lives, but I don’t feel like I have a husband anymore, and I haven’t for a long time. I sure as fuck don’t feel like your wife anymore.” Outside of the first few pages of some arranged marriage mafia book, the wordwifehas never sounded so scathing.
Those eyes that I’ve looked into since I was twenty years old, I’ve never seen them look so cracked, this broken man staring back at me, but I don’t stop. The crickets singing, the dog growling at his toy that we can hear over the fan and AC are the only other sounds as I launch this grenade straight into our marriage.
“I don’t know when you stopped being interested inmeas your partner. I can’t even remember the last time you saw me or treated me as anything other than the mother of your kids. As Christina. The chick you used to spend your life figuring out how to fuck next. And I get that you aren’t twenty-three anymore, there’s more to life than sex now, but sex isn’t even apartof our lives anymore. Much lessromanceor whatever the fuck else is the magic ingredient in a happy marriage.” My sarcastic tone hurts my own ears, but if he didn’t want to know, he shouldn’t have asked. I could’ve kept this bottled up for a long time coming, buthewanted to hear it…so here it is, baby. “Pretty sure sex is like point number one on the how-to-be-married checklist. Step zero, say ‘I do.’ Step one, bang it out. Step two, keep banging it out.”
Normally, we’d both scoff a laugh at that. Neither of us are laughing.
“If we’re not in love with each other, what the fuck is our marriage? What even is our family without that element to it? Hmm?” My eyes are as wide as they can go, and I’m staring him down accusingly. “Every time I want to have sex, it doesn’t happen. You’re tired, or you’re working, or the kids need you, or you have to do some shit for tomorrow, or whatever the fuck. It can’t be a coincidence at this point. If you actually wanted me, you would’ve found a way to have me. But you don’t. You stopped somewhere along the way.” My voice is back to a whisper, so I speak up again to deliver another crippling blow.
“When we promised to love and desire each other forever, I’m sorry I fucking believed it, okay? I didn’t think ten years later I’d be too old, or too fat, or too fucking whatever for your preferences. I am just sooveryou not wanting me. That? It taints everything else for me. It’s like this dark fucking cloud hanging over me. It makes it feel like everything has changed. This black fucking energy that just stains everything between us. What’s even left ofusanymore? We take the kids to school, we work, fit in the errands, pick the kids up, feed them, practices, yadda, yadda, yadda, clean the house, and pass out to do it all again. We’ve got the parenting thing down, but that’s all we are at this point. Two people living under a roof with a bunch of kids they made, raising them together sometimes. We feel more like roommates than soul mates. That energy between us that made usus… Where did it go, Chance? Because I’m thinking it might be gone forever.”
FUCK, did I really just say all that out loud? Shred his masculinity, his manhood, his virility, and everything we’ve built together in one spew?
He’s always been able to take my fiery side. In fact, he usually thrives on it, but I haveneverseen this look of devastation on his face before, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. If I’m being honest with myself, I know I’m exaggerating some points (can you blame me though?), and I know it’s notallbad between us, but sometimes that’s what it feels like, and he wants to know what’s in my head, so he’s fucking hearing it.
I get the last thought out before I can change my mind. I know this one is going to hurt him the most. It hurts me to think it, much less say it.
“And if all you want out of me is some chick who raises your kids, keeps your house in order and manages your bank account, then I can fucking be that. But I don’t know for how long, Chance. I’m not meant for this long term. Ineedlove from my partner.” My voice is breaking, the softer emotions are leaking out now that the fire blazed that path, opened the way for them to seep out of me, and I don’t want that vulnerability on display right now.
My shoulders are slumping, though I try to keep my back straight, my posture upright, not let him see that I’m beyond cracked.
As a wife, as a woman? I’m fucking wrecked, possibly irreparably.
But I don’t need to lose what’s left of my dignity, too. I tilt my chin higher to meet his gaze head-on.
“So that. That’s what I’m fucking upset about,” I finish weakly.
EIGHT
CHRISSY
The silence stretches so long, I start to wonder if I’ve broken something deep inside him the same way I feel broken deep inside of me. Finally, he lets out a wavering breath, trying to keep his composure, and speaks quietly. I stop pacing and face him, ready to hear whatever he’s going to say.
“Jesus, baby,” he breathes out, visibly shocked.
Somewhere during that deluge of absolute shit that came out of my mouth, I didn’t even notice when he fell back onto the crappy couch out here. I only notice now because he lunges up off of it, lurching toward me and pulling my short frame into his embrace.
