Page 8 of Creed
“Us? So, Chrissy’s going, too.”
“She said she was.”
I stood there for a moment, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they were going to their father’s. They both wanted to be with him. He was the fun one. The cool one. The one who never had to be the bad guy. The one who got to keep the house, the dog, and the narrative.
I was the one who left.
That’s what his father told him. He told the same to his sister. He led them both to believe that I was the one who destroyed the family. He said it over and over until it finally became his mantra. And it was true. I did leave.
But I didn’t walk out on a happy home.
I didn’t destroy a perfect family. It was neither of those things, but that didn’t stop me from trying. God, how I tried. I stayed through the silence, the cold shoulders, and the indifference. I stayed through the years of sleeping next to a man who felt more like a stranger than a husband.
I kept telling myself that this was the life I’d chosen, and I had to find a way to make it work. I had to try for the kids, for the life we’d built, and for the woman I’d once imagined I would become.
But the truth was I was never in love with him.
Not really. I wastwenty-three when we met. I was young and stupid and desperate for something that looked like stability. He was older, confident, and stable. He was a lieutenant and my superior. He was hesitant to get involved with someone in the same precinct, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. And I was flattered that someone so put together would take a liking to me.
Flattered but not smitten.
I didn’t feel love or a real attraction to him.
I thought that would come later. But it never did.
Not even when I had his children. Not even when I held them in my arms and felt the intense love I had for them. Itwas all-consuming. But with him, there was always a distance, a coldness that rattled deep in my bones, and I felt a sense of loneliness that I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t keep pretending. Not anymore.
Not if I wanted to be honest with my children and with him.
Not if I wanted to be honest with myself.
I tried to explain myself, but the kids didn’t understand. All they could see was the woman who broke up their home. Their father used that to his advantage, and I quickly became the villain in his version of events.
“I guess I’ll see you Sunday night, then.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I guess.”
I stood there a second longer, waiting for him to remember that I was his mom and I mattered, too.
But he didn’t.
He just kept his eyes trained on that stupid phone.
Feeling defeated, I gave up and walked to my bedroom. I closed the door and crawled into bed. I let myself pout for a bit, then I grabbed my phone from my purse and texted Laura. She was my best friend, and she’d been begging me to join her for a night on the town. I figured this weekend was as good as any other, so I messaged:
Me:
The kids decided to go to their dad’s this weekend.
Not thrilled about it, but it means I’m free if you’re up for going out.
Laura:
Wait. I thought you said this was your weekend.
