“You were the one who stormed off, needed to get a new place, didn’t want to try and make things work.”
“Sheila, you have been given more chances than I ever thought I’d be willing to give another person. Than any self-respecting person should be expected to.”
She quieted, as though reflecting on my comment, but I knew her well enough to know that couldn’t be the case. “You can put this on me all you want, but you checked out of our relationship a long time ago.”
There it was.
After all the pain, after all my heartache. After all the tears.
No remorse. No regret. Not even an apology.
Because it was my fault she went and fucked her client.
Just like it was my fault she fucked her grad professor.
Her “study partner.”
Her other “study partner.”
Her personal trainer.
At that point, who the fuck knew who else?
Running down the list made me ashamed of what a sucker I’d been to believe that each time had been a mistake, and even worse, somehow my fault. And the absolute worst? Part of me still believed it.
I set my glass on the counter, noticing it trembling against the marble as I released it. “Sheila, I know it might be hard and frustrating to change so much right now, but I need to file for divorce so I can move on. Don’t you understand that?”
She pushed to her feet and approached. Her frustration, her annoyance had vanished, replaced with another side of Sheila I had become so familiar with in our time together—that soft face, the teary eyes. A face that had some mystical power over me.
“I know you don’t believe this, but I love you.”
My eyes watered as I gripped the counter. “Sheila, please.”
“You don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. I’ve always loved you. Just, please. This is hard on me right now, and I’m barely hanging in…” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
Oh, how it severed through my heart.
I couldn’t look at her. I knew the face she was making, and I knew once I did, it would be all over. Not just that I would cave to what she wanted, but my greatest fear, that I would fall for it and wind up back in her arms, playing out that old, familiar script once again.
“I’ll file first thing at the start of next year. First thing. Then I can change over insurance. I’m just asking for this little favor.”
“Fine,” I said quickly, wanting this to stop. “End of this year.”
I knew I’d have to face her sooner rather than later, and as I turned to her she nodded, those wide hazel eyes set on me, looking as sincere as I could imagine a person to be, but the twist of her lip, into almost a smirk, left me with that fear that some sadistic part of her was thrilled I’d submitted.
“Please just go, Sheila.”
“Okay, but we will need to get together for dinner to have a conversation about dealing with everything else. You left behind so many things. I’ll at least need to give you a box, maybe several.”
Could she not understand why I left in such a hurry? How angry I was, how hurt?
“Okay,” was all I could force out, feeling as defeated by such a short conversation as I had by the entirety of our relationship.
I led her back to the door, offering as friendly a parting as I could manage as she kept on that sad expression, and as soon as I shut the door, I collapsed against it.
Fuck me.
I downed the rest of the Maker’s in my glass before pouring myself another round. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the warm rush as it granted me the faintest relief from Sheila’s visit and the reminders of the pain, lies, and manipulations. Our relationship had been little more than accusations, shame, and humiliation.
And I’d still be married to her until January. But as long as she was out of my life, that was all that mattered.
I turned and caught my reflection in the microwave, mounted beneath the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen.
I wasn’t that fun-loving kid who’d first gotten together with Sheila. I was a shell of a man. Still empty on the inside, struggling to find that spark that had blown out long ago.
“We’re starting a new life,” I told my reflection, raising my glass to it, hoping to renew that zest I’d been feeling on my way home. Hoping that one day