His arms drop back down to his sides with a slapping sound. He lets out a disappointed sigh and mutters in an irritated tone, “Here we go.”
“Yeah, here we fucking go, Chance. I appreciated you saying you’d watch the kids tonight and let me have my first night out in forever, but I didn’t realize I’d be coming home to a disaster and that I’d have to spend what should’ve been my sleep time cleaning up afteryournight.”
My arms are waving, a dead giveaway this is about to get out of control. He recognizes the warning sign and braces himself physically, arms crossing, legs parted.
“I would’ve cut the girls’ night short if I’d known this was what I was coming home to. It’s a fucking mess in here, there’s shit everywhere, laundry to be put away, and you’re just fucking off without a care in the world.”
And nowhisnostrils flare, which is so unusual for him that I try to recall if I’veeverseen him lose his patience with me. Very few memories are coming to me, so this might be a first.
That alone makes me take a step back and wonder if I’ve pushed him too far, been too hard on him, and I instantly begin reflecting on my own behavior, for once.
“My day was great, baby, thanks for asking. You know what I did at work today? I didn’t get the chance to tell you before you left earlier. I wanted to surprise you with the news.”
I gulp, worried at what I’ve done to turn the most laid-back man I’ve ever known into this dude who looks like he’s just getting fucking started. That’s usuallymything.
“I closed the highest sale in the history of the company. Got a fat bonus coming at the end of the quarter, on top of myveryfat commission for setting a new record. I left work early to get the boys from school and Lea from daycare, got them all shuttled home and made three different dinners for them, because both LeaandBrad were in a mood tonight. Then I cleaned the kitchen, found some leftovers I could eat, played with Sir Wags and all the kids in the backyard, tired them all out a little bit so they could go down for the night easier, before helping Brad with some homework. Ford had already finished his, by the way, he nailed it. Then I got all four of them through showers and baths, got the older boys to put P to bed and then tuck themselves in while I laid Eleanor down. It took ages, by the way, thanks to the mood she was in. Once she was asleep, I cleaned up the playroom from all that, and came to join a firefight for an hour that the boys were planning all week and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could make it to this one. Which, by the by, is the first timeI’vehad a guys’ night in months, as well, but you probably didn’t notice that either. Oh, I also did a load of laundry because I didn’t want you to have to worry about it when you got home. I had seven minutes left on the firefight, and then I was going to fold the laundry and pick up the couple of remaining toys and books from before. I ditched the game—which doesn’t go over well with my crew, by the way, I’ll be lucky if I get invited back next time—only to get chewed out by my wife for the one thing Ihaven’tdone yet tonight instead of thanked for the seven other things I did right already. I love you, Di, but sometimes you’re a little fucking unfair, you know that?”
He’s struggled to keep his voice down during that monologue and it’s actually trembling by the time he finishes, chest heaving, trying to regain composure.
Okay, I havezeromemories of him ever going off on me like this.
This is itI think.
This is where we break.
And that part of me that is justsounfair is glad. Glad that he’s finally reacting, responding more likeI’vefelt lately, rather than his usually confident self who is always so sure that everything will be just fucking fine. Because it doesn’t feel fucking fine lately.
I’m just so on edge all the time, irritated so much more often than I used to be, that it feels like a permanent setting at this point instead of an occasional lapse in my mood. I know it can’t be fun to be married to this right now. Especially since all of thegoodthat used to counterbalance the bad in our marriage seems to have seeped out in the last…fuck, I don’t even know how long.
The dates have been a bit of a reprieve, but after each one, I only feel more on edge than I was before it.
I truly have no words to all he’s just unloaded on me, and I just, sort of, glare at him, still annoyed, but really taken aback by his outburst.
How long has he been holding this in?
Is he as unhappy with me as I am with him?
That thought unsettles something that’s been anchored deep within me for years. It feels like the source of my certainty, what keeps me calm, is starting to float away.
I physically flinch when I place it.
It’s the surety that I’ll always have him by my side.
Is he ready to give up on me? On us?
Suddenly, it feels like I’m on a ship, rocking in a storm, where the equipment has just died on me, leaving me with no fucking clue how to make it out of this thing alive and in one piece. The GPS, that foolproof thing that always guides me, keeps me confident I’m on the right path, it’s vanished. It’s him. He’s what grounds me.
It’s just that… for so long now, everything he does seems to add to my ongoing annoyance, and practically nothing he doeslessensthat constant state of unpleasantness anymore.
Even the dates, I thought we were making forward progress, but then I get mad at him all over again the next time he does something that pisses me off, and it feels more like we are moving backward on the gameboard of life.
It’s like I’ve been one giant inferno, and every single thing he does or says is just more fuel that adds to my burn. I’ve been worried my blaze is going to take him out when it gets too big to keep under wraps anymore, and I wonder if this is where he finally snaps. If he’s finally had enough of my shit, and he’s going to let me see some deep, fiery resentment that he’s been keeping from me, like I have been with him.
He continues to breathe deeply, his hands on his hips, his soft stomach lifting with each breath, making his bright blue t-shirt pull up to reveal the waistband on his khaki shorts. His eyes are directed at the corner of the room, like he’s trying to get his own temper under control (another first, if memory serves). He brings those deep blue eyes back to me, and I see this longing in them, this burning for me to understand where he’s coming from, so I try. I listen instead of attack, for a change.
With a heavy exhale, he opens up to me.
“It’s like all you see in me is the bad. You just see the worst in our relationship, and you pay no attention to the good. I can’t remember the last time you thanked me for a single thing, or gave me a kiss out of the blue, or even a fucking hug. You definitely haven’t tried to be close to me physically, to share thebestpart of your passionate side with me in a fucking while. Even with all the dates and shit we’ve been doing lately, it feels pretty one-sided from over here. But I’m pretty sure you’ve damn near ripped my head off at least once a day for the last month or more. It feels like I can’t do a single thing right with you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t know how to break it to you, Christina, but I’m not fucking perfect.Youaren’t either.No onefucking is. If you think someone has the perfect life, the perfect house, the perfect marriage, they’re fuckinglying. You know that, right?”
