next day. It’s the first time Jon has left that I can admit I’m not sure if I even want him to come back. I wonder if maybe Jon had been pushing me away on purpose. Maybe he didn’t love me anymore but doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
I venture out into the kitchen to make a plate of cheese and crackers before retreating to our bedroom. Jon had scared me and somehow I feel safer in the bedroom. I think about locking the door but don’t want to upset Jon more than I already have. I feel stupid for even hoping that I could have found Jon a job. I had known deep down that it was something he needed to do on his own. I just could not understand why my trying to help him had made him so angry with me. Was it just that the call had caught him off guard or was it more?
I stiffen when I hear the front door open a couple of hours later. Quickly turning off the light, I pretend to be asleep. I hear Jon walk into our room, and then a few moments later, walk back out. I wonder if I should go to him and try and talk about what had happened that day but don’t know what type of mood he’s in so think it safer to talk another time. The next morning, after getting ready for work, I write Jon a note. I tell him that I’m sorry about not telling him I sent his resumé places. I had honestly thought if he got a call back he would have been happy. I end the note with I love you.
As I sit in the car while it warms up, I see that I need gas. Again. I stop at a station and have a mild shock when I pull out my wallet and find it empty. I had sixty dollars, and it’s gone. Jon took money from me. I sit immobilized as I process this. I lean my head back against the car seat and stare up at the ceiling.
Anger
a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism
-Merriam Webster
Calm down, calm down. I feel the pulse of my blood pounding all over me. I try to catch my breath. How do people calm down? Count to ten? I count, and that doesn’t work. Maybe if I count backwards. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…I slowly catch my breath. I'm done with being nice. Now I’m angry. I grab my purse and head into the gas station to use the ATM. I don't plan to take any money out, but I want to check my balance before I try to use my card to pay for gas. I’m relieved when the balance is what I expect. I walk back out to the pump and start fueling up. It’s cold out so I wait in my car. To anyone else fueling at that station that morning, I appear to be having a very heated discussion alone. I scream at myself for being so stupid and letting Jon walk all over me these past months. When had I become such a wuss? My parents had raised me to have a backbone and here I was completely failing at it.
I decide to fill up my tank because there is no way I am going to let Jon take it again. As I sit in my car, I wonder how easy it would be to change the PIN number on my card. If Jon had taken money out of my wallet, what would stop him from trying to use my card at an ATM? Once my tank is full, I continue on to work. As I drive, I think about sending Jon a text to let him know I know what he did and to finally confront him about the dent. I’m angry I let that go. I finally realize I’m angry about a lot of things. This is just the final straw.
One thing I learn about anger is how energizing it feels. Adrenaline is pumping me up, and it bleeds into my driving. A car rudely, with no signal indication, cuts me off before a red light. I take deep breaths and talk myself out of ramming the asshole driving the Ford. Instead, I coldly glare at the driver in front of me. I turn right as the other driver continues straight, and after I park,