Page 84 of The Love We Deny
Just not because my wife left me.
When I get home, the house is empty, and I think, maybe I should have brought the kids home with me. At least I wouldn’t be alone. I go through the motions of the end of a day, locking the door, turning on the living room lamp, and the overhead light off.
I stand in the shower for a long time, playing everything over and over in my mind. Where I went wrong. What I did to make him feel the way he does about me. I come up blank, the same way I have every time I’ve pondered the question.
I wish it didn’t hurt so bad this time.
After a while, the water turns cold, and I get out, tugging on my pajamas and turning back the comforter. I’m about to try to get a bit of reading done when my doorbell rings.
I already know who it is, and I consider ignoring him, but ultimately decide to get whatever this is over with.
He looks me over, my wet hair and what I’m wearing, his lips turning up. “Why are you in your pajamas? Sorta pointless, don’t you think?”
I don’t smile back.
“Go home, Will.”
“What? I thought we were—” He pauses, taking in the look on my face that I can’t see, but know isn’t a happy one. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My voice cracks on the word, and I feel it happening, the pressure behind my eyes boiling over with him addressing me head-on.
“Hey.” He takes a step forward. “What happened? Why are you upset?”
“You know what happened,” I say with a broken laugh. “You always do this. I don’t know why I keep letting you.”
“Do what—”
“I’m not having sex with you, so just go home. We’re not doing that anymore.” My eyes are burning, and I hate him. I hate that I’m standing here on my birthday about to cry because Will was mean to me.Again.
“What? Why not?” he asks, sounding genuinely upset, but I know the truth. He may be upset because he’s not getting a willing body to fuck tonight, but he doesn’t care aboutme.
“You hate me. You always have. And I don’t even know why.” I shake my head, wiping a tear from my face. “I’ve never done anything to you. I’ve never been anything but—” I look away so he can’t see me cry. “I don’t understand what I ever did to you, Will. Why you make it your mission in life to torture me.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t hate you,” he says, taking a step into the entryway that I’m blocking with my body. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Fine. We’ll stand, but let me in. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
I don’t budge, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Are you cold?” he asks, looking down at my arms covered in goosebumps, because yes, I’m cold, but that’s because he won’t leave.
“You don’t care,” I say, “stop pretending you do.”
“Dude.” He walks toward me, close enough that I have to step back and let him into the house so he doesn’t touch me. “You’re acting like you’re five right now.”
“Sorry if I’m upset that the person who’s supposed to love me—”
“Love,” he repeats. “It’s a little early for that—”
“I don’t care, Will. I don’t care anymore. I’m done. I’m not going to keep letting you do this to me.” I meet his eyes, tears be damned. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
He steps closer, into my space. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” I say, taking a step back to prove it.
That shocks him, I can tell. He knows I can’t resist him. I’m just so tired. And hurt. He looks at the floor, a seriousness I’ve only seen a handful of times flickering over his features. “I don’t hate you.”
