Page 52 of Shame

There’s a long pause. “Did he leave you?”

My heart cracks open. I don’t know if this answer is better or worse. Like everything else in this fucked up story, it is what it is. “It’s complicated. I asked him to leave. We’re trying to work on it, maybe, but I dunno.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. That’s accurate. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know it’s his fault,” she says. Like I did.

Like I’m sure we all do, and the thing is, itishis fault. Our partners are absolutely to blame for the fuckery they bring to our lives.

But at what point can you point to a serial home-wrecker and say, she’s a fucking problem, too? What dark trauma did she suffer as a child that made her grow up to want to destroy the happiness of other women?

Or maybe it’s the men. Maybe she has twisted Daddy issues. Maybe she wants to hurt them and ruin their lives, and we’re an inconsequential side effect.

I don’t fucking care anymore.

I do care about this woman, though. I think she’s fucking brave to reach out to me. I care about being present and hearing her story. “Do you want to grab some coffee and talk?”

“If you have time.”

“I have all the time in the world.” I was supposed to go for a walk with Luke. Cancelling is the no-brainer choice.

Grace: Something’s come up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Luke: Okay. I love you.

Grace: I know.

And I do. But right now, I don’t care.

There is a brutal double standard for women who have been cheated on. On the hand, they are blamed for it. They weren’t sexy enough, they ignored their husband’s needs. And then, when they find out, they are expected to leave.

You think people are rewarded for staying with a spouse that betrayed them? Not by people who see them as having agency. Agency means we leave. Period. Agency means, when I’m hurt, I run.

I’m not exactly running. But I feel pretty fucking lonely in this place of fighting for what I want. Like he can’t possibly love me if he’s hurt me. Like he never loved me, not really, and so I should give him up because he wasn’t good enough for me.

But there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give him up. I’ve loved him this whole time. We had a really wonderful life until it fell apart. I want that back. But better this time. I don’t want to try to find that with someone else, either.

I could have it now.

So why does it feel so precarious?

Will it ever not feel this precarious?

And why, as I head out the door to meet another wronged woman, are my thoughts tangled up in trying to redeem Luke?

Fuck him.

Fuck Caitlyn, too.

23

Luke

Grace ismad in a new way, an incandescent way, when she shows up on my doorstep.

She’s also dressed for sex again, and I notice. I can’tnotnotice, even if I’m supposed to be letting her go. She’s got a short, swingy skirt on. Easy access. And a halter top that promises she’s not wearing a bra.

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