you weren’t, you lived with the man. How could you not see that something wasn’t right? For Christ’s sake, some days he was so depressed he couldn’t get out of bed. How could you not think something was wrong?”
Because I wasn’t there to notice. “Why didn’t he talk to me instead of leaving?”
“He tried! He really did! But you were always too fucking busy, and you know my brother. He didn’t want to cause you any worry. ” She paused for a deep breath before unleashing her wrath once more. “Whatever happened to your rule about Saturdays being family day? Huh? And what about Friday date night? Travis gave up his career to support you in yours and raise a child. Did you not know how much those sacred times with Bob and you meant to him?” She paused to sniffle. “But when you forgot his birthday…”
While several of her accusations rang true, this one came as a slap to the face. “Wait, I never forgot his birthday.”
“Yes, you did. He sat at a restaurant for two fucking hours. Then he went home, packed a few things, and slept on my couch.”
I forgot my husband’s birthday? Ah, but Elise got her facts wrong. “He didn’t leave me at night. I came home one day to find him gone.”
“Really? Really! You don’t even know when he left? Why, you worthless sack of shit. Go back to whoever it was that caught your eye and leave my brother alone. Your thoughtless ass is the last thing he needs.” The line went dead. Rage poured through me. How dare she? How dare she?
One hand on the door, ready to charge out and confront the man who’d spread falsehoods about me, I caught myself in time. Five bottles of anti-depressants didn’t lie. The truth was irrelevant right now. What Travis believed trumped my defenses.
I hadn’t missed his birthday. No fucking way. I flipped my phone’s calendar back two years. Sure enough, there on my planner was “Meet Travis at Winston’s 6:00 PM Wednesday” along with “Meet with McAllen at Simon’s 6:00 PM Wednesday”. The next day bore the note: “Travis left”. Holy fuck.
McAllen had arrived late, we’d worked well into the night, and I’d picked up fast food and crept into the house so as not to wake my husband. I’d watched the 11:00 news as was my habit, and fell asleep on the couch. The next morning I’d snuck into our darkened room for a suit and dressed in the guestroom. My husband had left me and I hadn’t even known.
Me. All this time the problem had been me. And I’d never gone after him, never called. I’d just accepted that he’d wanted to leave, never seeing his actions through his eyes. If the shoe were on the other foot, I wouldn’t want to see me tonight. Deep down inside, did he still harbor feelings for the man who’d turned into an uncaring monster?
All these years I’d blamed Travis. But if I’d only listened years ago, given the man as much time to state his case as I’d given rival attorneys, we’d never have reached this point. I was to blame. And in true Travis fashion, he’d kept the gory details from Bob. Or had he? No need asking our son, the fact that he’d insisted on the meeting told me all I needed to know.
Apparently, I had some making up to do, but first, to exercise my husbandly right to put my foot down—and save my husband’s life.
“I’m not going.” Travis gripped the headboard. If looks could kill I’d be a pile of ash on his filthy carpet.
“Travis, I don’t want to do to this, but if I have to, I will. You need help.” I tossed the five pharmacy bags, and their damning contents, onto the bed.
He glanced at the bags and back at me. “I can explain that.”
“And can you explain why you’re living in this dump?”
“I sublet my condo and moved here in preparation for a role.”
I watched his face. He wasn’t telling the truth. Or at least not completely. “Out with it.”
He sighed, running his fingers through his limp hair. “I got a part in a movie as a guy with a meth problem, and I lost weight and moved here to get more into character. The funding failed and production ended. By then I was just too tired to go on. I’ve auditioned for a few things, but…”
Depression. Crippling depression. “I need to know,” though to hear