I flopped my hands into the air in exasperation. "Marriage is forever. It's a commitment. We're supposed to work out the problems, and it's supposed to be hard, yet rewarding. But he isn't putting in any effort! Since Gabby was born, it's only gotten worse, and it happened so slowly that I didn't even notice. We fought about something, and I compromised - but he didn't. Now it's just been like that for so long, you know? And then came the day that Gerardo was yelling at me because I signed us up to help with her play. He screamed about how he didn't have time for stupid things like that, and how theater was a waste of time, but Gabby could hear us. She loves her drama class, and he was just tearing it down - and you know what I did?"
"What?"
I paused, lifted my chin, and met her eyes. "Nothing."
She pushed her drink to the side. "And what does 'nothing' look like, Elena?"
"It looks like me telling him he didn't need to worry about it, I could handle the play without him, and saying I was sorry that I hadn't asked first. It looks like me tucking my tail between my legs, never thinking about my daughter listening from her room, and acting like inconveniencing my husband was so much worse than breaking her heart. It looks like me being the shittiest mother in the world!"
"Ok." Ashley lifted a hand, slowing my rant. "And then Gabby said that to you?"
"No, it was the next day, when her friends were over. One of them said Gabby needed to lose weight - she doesn't - because she didn't have a thigh gap, or something just as stupid. When I asked her about it later, intending to have a talk with her, you know, about eating disorders and such, she threw it back at me. She said I wouldn't know how to stand up for myself, and that she's fine. She's not going to do anything wrong. She's just not going to do anything at all. It was like a slap in the face! I mean, she learned all of that from me. She watches Gerardo push me around, and I always let him win. Always."
"Why?" Ashley pressed. "C'mon, honey. I can tell this is something big for you, so why do you let him win?"
I grabbed the tall, fluted glass with both hands, hoping it would ground me. "Because I hate confrontation. I hate fighting. I thought that if he loved me, he'd want to make me happy, but I'm starting to think he just wants me to shut up and make dinner. I mean, this has been building, but..." I leaned in for a little sip from the straw, needing something to cool my throat. "I asked him to go to marriage counseling. He said no. I don't know what else to do. If he upsets me enough to make me cry, he sends me away because it makes him feel bad. Just think about that, Ash. Me crying is a problem for him? And it's been bad for a while, but I thought it would be easier on Gabby if I just waited until she got out of school. It's only a few more years, and we've been married this long, so I could just wait. I have my hobbies, and he doesn't fight with me if I don't say anything. But now? I mean, when she said that? My little girl is supposed to grow up and take on the world. She should be proud, and strong, and shouldn't let anyone push her around, but look at this. Look at what I've been teaching her without even knowing it! Sit down, shut up, don't pick fights, and do whatever your man wants even if it kills you inside. What kind of lesson is that for a teenager?"
I paused to grab one of the napkins, then pressed it under my eyes to make sure my mascara hadn't smudged. I wasn't crying, but my eyes were definitely damp. Across from me, Ashley waited, knowing that my tirade wasn't quite done. She didn't press me, but she also didn't try to make it stop. She knew I wasn't used to this. I didn't air out my dirty laundry for just anyone, and this was possibly the hardest thing I'd ever done - and also the easiest. It felt oddly... good.
"I want my daughter to be strong," I finally said. "I