Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,48

first. It was a beautiful diamond bracelet that I’d seen in a jewelry store a few months ago. I had mentioned to Wes that I thought it was stunning. He didn’t comment and I simply forgot about it. The happiness this thoughtful gift would have brought me just a year ago wasn’t there now. I felt nothing. I carefully put it back in the box and picked up the folded note. My name was written on the front in Wes’s hurried handwriting.

The note was simple:

V-

I’m sorry about last night. I love you.

—W.

I traced the loose scribble of his initial, wishing that I could capture the husband I once loved. But I could feel that part of him slowly fading away.

My tears dropped onto the note, slowly traveling down the paper, melding with the ink, smearing “sorry” and “love you.”

Rip it up! my mind chanted.

The urge to do just that was strong, but I found myself holding on to it.

I slammed the lid on the velvet box, got out of bed, and grabbed the photo album on the dresser. I sat on the edge of the bed and pored through my wedding pictures.

I was shocked to see the woman I once was. It seems impossible, but I vividly felt her happiness.

I continued to flip through the pages.

My body was here, keeping me alive, but my soul was somewhere far away from this house, this marriage, this life.

June 2014

I didn’t want to leave the house.

I didn’t want to do much of anything. I just wanted to lie in bed, draw the sheets above my head, and press REWIND on my life.

As Wes’s routine went, there were no more outbursts. No punches thrown. No pain. The only time he ever said he was sorry was in the card the day after our anniversary, but that was it. He pretended that everything was okay and we should move on with our lives. But it wasn’t that simple for me. I lived in a constant state of fight-or-flight.

I had quit my job for the sake of our future and what did I have to show for it? Nothing.

There was no baby. For the past few months, I’d resigned myself to the fact that there would never be one. Months ago, I had suggested to Wes that he and I see a fertility specialist. He shut that conversation down quickly. He said that there was no reason to force it. That we’ve hardly been trying. I didn’t tell him that if he really gave our marriage the attention he did at the beginning, he’d realize that we’d been “actively” trying for more than a year.

Maybe being childless was a blessing, though. The thought of bringing another life into the environment I lived in made me feel sick.

Lately, I found myself sucked into a bottomless black hole where I’d see the good moments with Wes. I’d see us sitting at a dinner table with friends and laughter all around us. He’d look over at me, a gleam of happiness in his eyes, and it made me see that there was still a sliver of good left in him.

When Wes was at work, the house felt incredibly empty. I became a master gardener with the help of Renee. Our friendship seemed to get stronger as time went on. I had multiple friends in Falls Church but they were climber friends—the ones that latched on to you for a while but had no problem dropping you as they moved on up the ladder.

Renee was a forever friend and I was treating her dismally. She had texted and called me multiple times this week. I answered once and replied to two of the texts. She said that if she didn’t see me face-to-face she was going to knock on my door until I answered. I’d much rather go to her shop, say a quick hello, assure her I’m fine, and go.

I was afraid that if I stayed too long she’d see the residue of my angry fight with Wes. The abuse. The shame. And that was the very last thing I wanted.

Just stay home. It’s better to be alone, my mind whispered.

The desire to give in and hole myself away in my house was strong. But I’d been home for almost a week and knew that if I didn’t force myself to get out now, I never would.

It didn’t help that the weather forecast was dreary. Clouds had settled in, creating a silver sky. The heat was suffocating, making sweat