Page 37 of Friends That Heal Us
“I told him to pick his own color and I can pick mine, and we can try to match the colors we pick to match our bathroom decorations. But he wanted light blue, and if I had chosen pink, it would have looked like a gender reveal. So I settled on light blue and made my bathroom ocean themed.”
I step closer to the pink towels. “Well, now is your chance. Which pink do you like?” I reply, looking back at her. Her eyes dart over to the pinks as I point to one. “There is this pink. It’s a lighter pink. Or would you like this one?” I move my finger to another shade. “Looks to me like an orange-pink”—the side of my lip curls up in confusion—“If that’s even the right explanation of this color.” I take a bigger step and motion to another shade. “Or this neon pink. Or hot pink,” I add, pointing to a brighter pink. I look back at her as her smile grows wider.
She giggles and comes closer, and then runs her fingers towards the lighter shade of pink.
“This one?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says softly, her face illuminated by a smile.
I grab a couple and throw them into the cart.
“What color do you want?” she asks while shifting her focus towards the darker shades.
“Eh. I really don’t care.” I reach over and grab a couple black ones. “Black will do.” I throw them in the cart.
I follow Violet down the aisle to get the rest of the towels we need. It comes to mind that this is the first time we’ve been out together—outside of the car and inside a store. It feels like a breath of fresh air being out with someone who actually likesme for me and not just the money I bring in. Come to think of it, I wasn’t with Rya when she would buy stuff for our house. She always went by herself. I would come home and there would be a bunch of new stuff. I appreciated the time she took to make our house a home because I never really thought I would appreciate going to help pick out something. She never asked me either. This feels nice doing it together with someone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
VIOLET
After yesterday,I’ve been on this high of decluttering all my stuff. It feels refreshing, like I’m shredding excess weight off my mind and body, so I wanted to keep it going. The air in this house feels lighter, less muggy. I can breathe better. Ashley was right. Somehow it helps.
Today I turned my attention to the bathrooms…again. This time I’m underneath the sinks, deep inside the cabinets, digging out expired products…and anything that’s Zayn’s. I’m done being nice. I’m now throwing his stuff away. Well, at least product wise for right now. While I’m digging through and finding more and more stuff to throw away, I keep questioning why I have all this in the first place? And why have I held onto it for so long? I’ve thrown away so much expired shampoo and conditioner. What made me buy multiple in the first place? Why didn’t I use up what I had and then buy a new one? Why does it matter to have so many? I over consume everything, it seems like.
I spot a gold, square-shaped thing in the shadowed corner of the cabinet and reach for it. My fingers tremble slightly as I pullit out, and the moment I see it in full light, my chest tightens, and the blood rushes from my face. It’s a condom. My stomach twists, a punch to the gut I wasn’t ready for.
I look further in, my hand shaking as I reach for a black box tucked deep into the corner. My breath catches in my throat as I pull the box out of the cabinet. These aren’t mine. That can mean only one thing. They’re Zayn’s. My fingers shake even more looking for the expiration date, and when I see that they’re not expired, my stomach drops even further. We never used condoms.
These weren’t for us.
They were for him—and Rya.
I sink back on my heels, heart hammering. I drop the box on the ground. Every time I think I’m holding it together, something else comes to the surface. How could someone I trusted, someone I shared everything with be so sleazy and so deceitful right behind my back? And now, questions flood my mind. What else was he hiding? What else had he been lying about? If he’s capable of lying about this, there must be more.
Was our whole marriage a lie?
Was our whole friendship a lie?
Are there more women I don’t know about?
It’s pointless asking him. He couldn’t come clean about Rya. What makes me think he’ll come clean if there are more women? He won’t like the coward he is. He only came clean about Rya after I found out.
I press my face into my hands and try to steady my shaking.
Instead of dwelling on this, I storm to the closet—legs trembling, hands shaking, and chest pounding. I grab a fistful of Zayn’s clothes and throw them hard onto the floor. They hit the floor with a softer thud than I would have liked, and all it does is fuel the anger inside me.
I don’t stop. I rip and I yank everything I can get my hands on—shirts, pants, and jackets all fly around me in rage. Hangers bounce off the rack flying with the clothes. My breath comes in heavy and short. My head pounds as adrenaline courses through me. I keep going and I scream about all the betrayal. All the lies.
I go in for more clothes to wrap around my fists, but the rack is empty. I look down at the mess on the floor. A huge chaotic mess. Just like my life.
I’m shaking, screaming, and tears stream down my face as I stare down at all his clothes. I collapse to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me until I sink down completely. My back presses against the floor. My chest rises and falls in uneven bursts. Hot tears stream down my face and soak my hairline.
I cry until the sound of it fills the room. My body shakes with the release. It’s ugly and desperate, but it’s real, and I let it all out because holding it in has been worse. Everything has been eating me alive inside. I’m so sick of this. So sick of crying over him. Over us. Over everything. All I want is for it to end. For the weight to finally slide off my chest, and for the ache to stop clawing at my heart. I want the lies and the heartbreak to go. I want to stop feeling like I’m bleeding out over someone who never deserved me. I want everything to be done.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I finally peel my back off the floor and sit upright, and the blood rushing down my head makes me lightheaded. I blink back the dizziness until I can finally see better. Staring back at me is my jewelry stand knocked over on the floor. It must have gotten knocked over in my rage. Earrings, necklaces, and bracelets are scattered all around. I let out a groan, knowing I made an even bigger mess for myself.
I scoot closer to the jewelry and begin picking everything up. I sort through it all. A few necklaces have tangled together, and I groan again, knowing how annoying those are to separate.
