Page 16 of The Housewife's Robot
Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do now?
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, allowing myself to cry until my tears run out. I’d planned to call my family in the morning, maybe crash at their place for a few days while I figure my life out. But right now, in the dark of night with my life in pieces around me, I can’t bear the thought of explaining to anyone what’s happened. Can’t stomach the pity, the whispered “I told you so’s” from relatives who never thought Daniel was good enough for me. Or worse, the ones who’ll blame me for not keeping my husband satisfied.
Wiping my tears with the sleeve of my sweater, I pull back onto the dark road.
The streets are almost empty at this hour, just the occasional car passing in the opposite direction. Taking random turns, I’m driving without any purpose. I don’t even know where I’m at anymore.
My mind keeps circling back to our fight and the look on his face when I told him I knew everything. He didn’t even care. He just looked annoyed at being caught and irritated at having to deal with my emotions.
Fresh tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away furiously. Even now, even after everything, his insults still hurt.Was that really how he saw me?Just some baby-obsessed woman who’d checked out of our marriage? The unfairness of it makes my blood boil.
I gave him everything, my best years and my dreams. I moved across the country for his job, away from my family and friends. I built my freelance career around his schedule. And all the while, he was building a life with someone else.
The gas gauge catches my eye, the needle hovering just above the quarter tank mark. My gas is nearly empty.
Another thing to worry about. I have no idea when I’ll be able to afford to fill it up again. My wallet contains exactly $63 in cash, one nearly maxed-out credit card, and a debit card linked to our joint account.
The realization that I’ve driven almost twenty minutes with no destination in mind finally sinks in. I need to find somewhere to stay for the night, at least until I can make some calls in the morning. A hotel is too expensive, and I can’t risk charging it to our joint account or my nearly maxed credit card.
I turn into a convenience store parking lot, pulling up to the far edge away from the fluorescent glare of the windows. The lone employee inside doesn’t even look up from their phone as I sit there, engine idling, trying to come up with a plan. My eyes feel gritty with exhaustion and dried tears, my head pounding from crying.
After buying a bottle of water, I drive another ten minutes until I find a small shopping plaza that’s completely dark, all the businesses closed for the night. The parking lot is empty except for a couple of cars parked far apart—probably employees who leave their vehicles here overnight. I pull into a spot between two light poles where it’s the darkest and turn the engine off.
The silence engulfs me immediately, broken only by the occasional passing car on the main road and the soft tick of my cooling engine.
I recline my seat as far as it will go, which isn’t far in my compact car. My neck already protests the awkward angle, but it’s better than nothing. I check that all the doors are locked, then wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how cold it’s getting without the heater running.
I’ve never slept in my car before. It feels surreal, like this is not even real, and I’m living someone else’s life.
Just yesterday, I woke up in my bed, in my house, with a husband. A husband who had just come home from fucking another woman, but I hadn’t known that then. I’d made coffee and kissed his cheek and wondered why he seemed so distant. I’d thought he’d finally open up, finally tell me what was wrong so we could fix it together.
What a fucking joke.
My body shivers, whether from cold or shock, I’m not sure. I reach into the backseat, fumbling until I find the emergency blanket I keep there
The thin foil blanket crackles as I unfold it over myself. It’s not comfortable, but it’s better than nothing. I curl my legs up as much as the confined space allows, trying to preserve body heat.
A car passes on the main road, its headlights sweeping across my face. For a moment, I’m terrified it might be Daniel, that he’s somehow tracked me down. But the car continues on, oblivious to my presence, oblivious to my pain.
I close my eyes, but sleep feels impossible. Every time I start to drift off, I see Daniel’s face and the words he said. I’ll never forget the text messages I saw between him and Katherine every time I close my eyes.
My stomach twists with nausea. I crack the window slightly, letting in a rush of cool night air that helps clear my head. Themoon peeks through the scattered clouds, casting silver light across the empty parking lot.
How did I miss it? How did I not see what was happening right in front of me? The late nights at work, the distant behavior, the way he’d pull away when I tried to touch him. It all makes such perfect sense now, like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. I wasn’t paranoid, needy, or overly sensitive.
I was right. There was something wrong.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to start rebuilding my life from scratch. Find a place to live, hire a divorce lawyer, figure out how to untangle five years of marriage. The task seems impossible, mountainous.
But tonight, there’s nothing I can do but wait for the morning. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position in the driver’s seat. My eyelids grow heavier despite the discomfort, exhaustion finally winning out over adrenaline and heartbreak.
As I drift toward sleep, a strange sense of peace washes over me. For some reason, I feel free. The marriage never felt right to me from the beginning. I feel free from the mechanical love we had.
A deafening bang jolts me awake.
My eyes fly open to darkness and confusion, heart instantly racing as another crash rattles my tiny car. I blink rapidly, disoriented, the emergency blanket tangled around my legs. Two dark figures hover outside my passenger window, silhouetted against the distant glow of a street lamp. Another bang—they’re hitting my window with something heavy.
I suddenly realize that I’m under attack.
