Every Wrong Reason

I hoped he didn’t notice my quiet sobbing. I couldn’t stand the idea that he saw how weak I was acting. But the longer I thought about it, I decided the obvious emotion in his voice probably came from asking me permission.

Nick was nothing if not proud.

Instead of using this moment against him, I surprised myself by shrugging one shoulder and whispering in a thick voice, “Go ahead. She would love it.”

He stood there silently for a long minute. I felt his eyes sear into my back. I sucked in slow breaths and tried not to fidget. The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of A

Finally, after endless moments, he asked, “Is her leash in the same spot?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, girl,” he called in a friendly voice. “Let’s go for a walk. Want to go for a walk?”

A

He fastened it quickly to her collar and they left out the front door.

“Traitor,” I hissed when they were gone.

The new silence hit me harder than anything else. I had been living alone for a while, but I always had A

Logically, I knew she was only going to be gone for a half hour or so. I knew Nick would bring her back to me safe and sound.

But the house felt immensely lonely now. It fell down on my shoulders with a crushing weight. My chest deflated and my lungs gave out.

I fell to my knees in a heap of loud sobbing and uncontrollable tears. My wet hands splashed water all over my work clothes, but I couldn’t find the energy to care. I was too wrapped up in my own pain, too lost in the heartbreak inside my chest.

Unexpected grief crashed over me and I gasped for breath, stretched for the effort to continue living through this agony.

Why did it hurt so much? If this was what we both wanted, why did it feel like death instead of life?

I had loved this man once. I had loved him more than anything else in life. And now we treated each other like enemies. I hurt him every time I saw him. And I did it on purpose.

I was a good, decent person. I believed in my career. I wanted to change lives and give the kids I worked with a future they might not have otherwise. And yet, when I was with my husband, I turned into a vicious, crazed harpy that couldn’t listen to reason or rationalize logically. Every nice, kind thing inside of me jumped out the window and I started flinging insults meant to wound, to harm permanently… to kill whatever good, decent person was left in him.

I hated who I was with Nick.

And I had to be honest with myself and admit that it wasn’t Nick that made me this way. There was something ugly inside of me… something monstrous and vengeful.

I didn’t want to keep talking to him like this; I didn’t want to keep hurting him. What was even the point anymore? We were over. We were separated. The least I could do, after years and years and years of this, was treat him like a human being worthy of respect.

We weren’t going to be man and wife anymore, but that didn’t make us enemies.

Just because we didn’t love each other, didn’t mean our only option was to hate each other instead.

I grabbed the kitchen towel hanging from the cabinet next to my head and used it to dry my tears and my hands. I sat there while I tried to piece the shattered fragments of myself back together.

It wasn’t easy and I wasn’t entirely successful. But I managed to resolve something inside of me, something lasting and intentional. I didn’t have to treat Nick badly to make myself feel better.

This was hard on both of us. And it didn’t look like it would be getting any easier.

But if I could weather this storm, if I could walk this journey without inflicting any more lasting wounds, there might be healing at the end for me too.

I wanted this divorce because I was sick and tired of being miserable, of wishing I could be happy, of wanting a better life. On the floor of my kitchen, all alone and feeling my worst, I realized I didn’t have to wait for Nick to go away before I could grab those things and make them realities in my life.

I didn’t have to wait for the papers to be signed before I could stop being miserable… until I had a better life.

Those were things I had the power to change.

And I would change them. Starting now.

The front door opened and I jumped to my feet. I slammed the faucet down, so the water would stop ru

I threw the towel on the counter and wiped at my face one more time with my fingertips before moving quickly to meet Nick in the entryway. He unhooked the leash from A

I knew by the way he looked at me that he could tell I’d been crying. Biting, defensive words immediately landed on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back, even if it cut into my pride.

“Thanks,” I offered humbly. “I wasn’t really up for walking her today.”

His expression changed again. Storm clouds rolled in those starkly blue eyes of his and his face darkened with something I couldn’t name. He rubbed his palm over the short scruff along his jaw, “Anytime.”

“You too.” The words surprised me as much as him. “I mean, if you want to walk her, just, maybe call first?”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

We stared at each other awkwardly, shifting on our feet as the silence dragged out and neither of us could think of something to say. I didn’t know if we’d somehow managed to reach a truce or if this was only a temporary treaty, but Nick seemed as tired of fighting as I did.

His gaze locked with mine, accidentally at first, but as he held it, I realized he was saying something to me in his silence. I couldn’t read him, though. Either I’d forgotten how in the few months we’d been apart or maybe I never could to begin with.

Finally he said, “Well, I should go.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him goodbye. It didn’t make any sense. But nothing I did made sense these days. He took my silence as a dismissal and left without another glance my way.

I was alone again, even if A

Every time he left, I shattered apart.

Chapter Four

11. He doesn’t understand me.

A week and a half had gone by since Nick stopped by to see A

I couldn’t explain my behavior.

This man didn’t get to have access to my heart after everything we’d been through.

After everything we were going to go through.

When I realized what I was doing, how often I checked my cell and how far my heart sank each day he didn’t call, I had temporarily contemplated checking myself into rehab.

Did they have rehab for bad relationships?

Was there an AA meeting for being addicted to the wrong men?

There should be.

“Ms. C, I need to go to the bathroom.”

I whirled around from my position at the whiteboard, my marker held aloft. “You’ve already been, Jay. Twice.”

Jay Allen’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled with a knowing smirk. This was the second class I’d had with Jay. The first time I’d had him in class was two years ago as a freshman. He had been difficult to handle then, but nothing compared to the swagger he carried in his junior year.