Page 83 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
Jacob’s eyes shuttered, and a humorless smile curled his lips. He put his hands up, surrendering. “Fine. You’re the boss.” It was exactly the type of thing he’d say to me right before doing whatever the hell he wanted when we were married to each other. We both knew I was never the boss, so his words were a subtle jab meant to hurt.
The blow glanced off me, missing its mark. Jacob huffed and stomped to his car. I closed and locked the door behind him before pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.
He would play the perfect father this weekend, and then I’d have to pick up the pieces when he left. I didn’t know how I’d find the strength for it this time, but I knew I would. I was worndown, raw, my chest cracked open to expose my heart. I’d changed, but it still hurt to be alone.
The boys stomped around upstairs, and I knew I couldn’t cry yet. Not when they were awake and happy—and when they’d ask me too many difficult questions. I locked my pain away just like I’d done for years, but this time felt harder. The hurt spilled out around the edges, and I had to turn my head away from the boys’ view all through their bedtime routine as my bottom lip trembled or my eyes filled with tears.
Finally, Nate and Alec fell asleep. I crept downstairs and collapsed on the couch—the couch I’d moved in with Rhett’s help, into the living room he’d had repainted in the colors I chose. Everywhere I looked, I saw the past months of my life, the hope and happiness I thought I could finally call my own.
A sob tore out of me, and I shoved a throw pillow against my face to muffle the noise. The fabric dampened as my tears flowed, but I couldn’t get control over myself. I was trapped. Everywhere I went, I made the same stupid mistakes. I tried to be strong, to be independent, to put my boys first, and yet I kept falling for the charm and charisma of men who tossed me aside as soon as I dared ask for the smallest bit of grace or respect.
I felt so foolish and weak and pathetic. My heart broke for the life I would never have—for the love that never existed. I’d made up stories about Rhett, thinking he was the kind of good-hearted man who probably didn’t exist. When I divorced Jacob, I was ready for loneliness and hardship. I was prepared to struggle as I made a life for myself. I’d been ground down by years of a bad marriage, my life growing smaller and smaller and smaller.
This time hurt so much worse, because I saw the signs and ignored them. I couldn’t plead ignorance or call myself the victim. I should have learned my lesson, but instead I walked into the same predictable trap.
Rhett was no different from Jacob or any other man.
“Mom?”
I dropped the throw pillow from my face and looked over to see Alec hesitating at the far end of the couch. “Hi, baby.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I…” I shook my head, setting the pillow aside so I could spread my arms. “Don’t worry about me. Come here. You couldn’t sleep?”
My sensitive boy climbed up onto the couch and snuggled up next to me. I wrapped him in my arms and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, the world growing a little steadier beneath my feet.
“Did Dad make you sad again?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart ached. “Everything has just gotten to me today. I’ll be okay in the morning.”
“Why didn’t Mr. Baldwin stay for dinner?”
Alec always saw too much. I stroked his head and let out a long breath. “He had something else to do,” I replied. “He couldn’t stay.”
“Oh.” Alec was silent for a while, then pulled away to look up at me. “Are we going to stay here? I don’t want to move again.”
The strength that had gotten me through childbirth, countless sleepless nights, and all the challenges of motherhood kept me from bursting into tears at my son’s question. I let out a longbreath and kissed his forehead. “I know, honey,” I murmured. “I don’t want to move again, either.”
We stayed there until Alec’s head began to nod. He was too heavy for me to carry him to bed, so I had to wake him up enough for him to stumble up the steps beside me. I tucked him in, kissed him goodnight, and tiptoed out of the room for the second time.
This time, I didn’t break down in tears. I was too raw and empty for that. I crawled into the bed where I’d imagined waking up next to Rhett every morning, and I slept.
The next day,Jacob came to pick up the boys bright and early, promising them a day of sledding, food, and fun. He watched me warily in between playing the perfect dad. I kissed the boys goodbye and waved them off, then got to work. My head was eerily quiet as I prepped food for the week and caught up on laundry. I didn’t let myself wallow, and I didn’t think of Rhett. I moved on autopilot, picking up toys that had spread out from the boys’ room, shoveling the snow off the path and the driveway, and doing all the thousand and one tasks required to keep a home going.
A home we’d have to leave again in three months’ time.
When I finally paused for breath in the early afternoon after a frenzy of housework, I clung to the edge of my vanity with yellow rubber cleaning gloves over my hands, and I took a deep breath. The reality of my situation settled over my shoulders like a heavy weight, and I knew what I had to do.
My phone’s screen was still smashed to smithereens, so I took off my gloves with sharp, efficient tugs and found the boys’ tablet. I had to struggle to get some parental locks disabled in order to use it, but I finally figured it out and settled on my bed with the device.
Later, when Jacob dropped our boys off and they shared a long goodbye, I was steadier. I was able to be there for Nate and Alec when they cried at their father leaving again. We spent a quiet evening together, and I weathered the tantrums and the tears that always accompanied goodbyes.
But it was survivable. This was another storm, and it would pass.
Rhett could be angry. He could use all the leverage he had over me. He could kick me out of the house and fire me from my job if he wanted to.
He didn’t have control overmydecisions. I still had power, and most importantly, I had a plan.
