Every Wrong Reason

Once I was standing, he looked me over again but refrained from speaking his opinion. I tried to swallow back my a

What did he think about my outfit? Did he notice I’d lost weight? Could he see the dark bags beneath my eyes?

Did he think I was losing sleep because of him?

Habits, I reminded myself. These were just familiar patterns from our marriage. I was used to being able to ask him his thoughts, which he always gave freely.

Now we acted like strangers, even though we knew each other more intimately than I knew any other person.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked when it didn’t seem he wanted to explain his presence.

“I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

His casual words lit a fire inside of me that I couldn’t ignore. My polite words tasted bitter and acrid in my mouth. “Teacher’s meeting was canceled tonight. Mr. Kellar had a family emergency.”

“Is everything alright?” Finally, some kind of sympathy flared in his blue eyes, but it wasn’t meant for me.

My principal got his compassion, but not his wife.

“His eight-year-old broke his leg. It’s nothing serious.” My words came out clipped and short. Nick noticed immediately. His gaze sharpened and his lips parted as if to defend himself.

I braced myself for fighting words, the ones that would spiral us into a never-ending argument. He would set me off and I would retaliate with something blade-sharp and cutting. He would return by nagging me to death until I explained every last one of my emotions, at which point I would shut down and the barrier around my heart would thicken and expand.

Sometime in the last seven years, I had started to pay attention to our fights. We fought in phases, each argument trying to outdo the last. What was worse was that we had developed this toxic cycle that could not be broken.

“Huh,” was Nick’s intelligent reply.

“So why are you here?”

His gaze drifted to the dog. “I need to grab a few things of mine.”

Righteous anger spread from the fire in my belly, snaking through my veins and reaching my fingertips and toes. “You should have called me first. You can’t just walk in here una

Nick took an aggressive step forward. “This isn’t my house? Are you kidding me? This is our house. As far as I know, my name is still on the mortgage. I can come and go as I please.”

“I’m a single female, living alone. Don’t you think I deserve privacy? I thought you were a murderer!”

“You’re a single female, huh? Just like that? I’m gone for a couple months and suddenly you’re living the high life?”

“That’s not at all what I meant! And you know it!” I took another step forward and swallowed down the bitterness that bubbled up my throat. I wanted to claw at my itchy skin and burst into hysterical tears. How did we get like this?

Why couldn’t we have just one decent conversation?

Nick’s face heated with his matching anger. “I don’t know what you mean, Kate. I’m starting to wonder if I ever knew what you meant. You kicked me out.”

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s really lovely.” I spun around and threw my hands out. “I love how I’m the bad guy in this thing. How it’s all my fault.” I turned back to face him and let my words punctuate the air with every ounce of resentment and exhaustion I felt. “We came to this decision together, Nick. Don’t you dare put the blame on me.  I’ve been the villain for seven goddamn years, but I refuse to this time. We did this together.”

He rocked back on his heels and his shoulders deflated like the anger had leaked from his body. He was a puffed-up balloon with a quarter-sized hole. But he wasn’t any less worked up. This was the quiet rage that cut deeper, sliced in jagged, unhealable ways.

“Sure, Kate. We both wanted this.” His voice pitched low and firm when he launched his final assault. “At least it’s what we both want now. You’re not the only one that’s been living in freedom lately. God, it feels good to get out from under…” I waited for the end of his sentence, knowing it would be about me, knowing it would be the agonizing reminder of what a terrible wife I was. But he shocked me when he finished with, “this roof.”

It wasn’t any less hurtful, but it didn’t pack quite the punch I had been expecting.

My surprise quelled some of my fury and I found myself able to reply to him without goading him further. I ran my hands over my face and in a deflated voice, I asked, “What are you really doing here, Nick? I know you didn’t stop by to fight with me.”

He jerked his chin to the side so he didn’t have to look at me. “I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

“Nick, god. Just come clean already.” A wave of violent exhaustion knocked into me and I teetered backward. He did this to me. He wore me out completely. And he didn’t even notice. He wouldn’t even look at me anymore.

And somehow that was worse. Somehow I could take his harsh words and cruel accusations, but it was his neglect that pierced the hardest.

“I missed A

I knew I misheard him. He hated the dog. He complained about her daily. “What?”

He lifted his chin as if he was prepared to defend his words and the damn dog to the grave. “I missed A

A weird mixture of sorrow and affection twisted through me. I didn’t know whether to scream at him or hug him. Confused and tired, I turned away from him and faced the sink. I needed to do something. I needed to use my hands and think about anything else but my husband and the dog.

“I thought you hated her,” I accused weakly, my voice broken with hurt feelings and bewilderment.

His voice was lower to the ground when he responded. He’d bent over and started petting her in his rough, affectionate way. “I thought I did too.”

A lump so big and intrusive clogged my throat that I had to gasp for air. I didn’t bother to swipe at the tears leaking from my eyes. I didn’t want to draw attention to them.

So while Nick petted the dog he had avoided, complained about and glared at for three years, I focused on scrubbing the dishes I left out last night. The water burned my hands, turning my skin bright red, but I welcomed the heat and the pain. I needed to focus on something else. I needed to redirect my mind from whatever dangerous place it wanted to go.

Nick murmured sweet things to A

I wanted to fall on my knees next to him and beg for his forgiveness.

Which was so silly. So completely ridiculous.

If anything, his surprise visit should hammer down the point. We weren’t right for each other. We couldn’t even be in the same room together without wanting to strangle each other.

We might be good people separately, but we were monsters together.

I was doing the right thing. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to live a life without screaming and name-calling.

I wanted to breathe again.

“Have you taken her for a walk yet?” His question was asked with a soft pleading that I couldn’t ignore, no matter how much the bitter part of me wanted to punish and torture him.

I shook my head, unable to speak the words that clawed at my throat. I kept my chin tucked to my chest so that my dark hair would fall in front of my face and cover the tears streaking my cheeks.

His voice grated when he asked, “Do you mind if… do you mind if I take her?”