“Where are you?” she asked, swallowing hard. I knew his answer before he responded.
“I’m home,” he said with slight hesitation. He always hesitated a little before lying. He did not know that he presented himself like that.
“That’s weird. I parked here in the driveway, and your car is nowhere in sight.” My heart raced, and anxiety rose in my chest, as it always did when I caught him in a lie. After all this time, I’m still hoping he’ll be honest with me…just for once.
“What are you doing home so early? I thought you were working!” His voice took on an angry tone. The one I dreaded, and who at the same time gave me validation. He’s beginning to realize I’m not the naive, submissive doormat he’s used to. I asked questions now. I was in his games. I’ve stopped crying…at least in front of him. I did not answer.
“You’re up to something fishy! You can’t be trusted! What are you doing leaving work early?!” His anger was building, but by this point, I knew the pattern. Instead of responding to his lie that he was home when he wasn’t, he would try to use fear and intimidation to get me to acquiesce, as I have done hundreds of times before.
Even though I knew I had done nothing wrong, I felt pricks of shame and indignation. Shame because I purposely didn’t tell him I was leaving work early for the chance of being caught in the act. Shame because doing so made me somewhat like him. Indignant because the man I had a secret meal and moments with last night (at his request) lied to me again. When will I ever learn?
I knew the drill. Instead of giving him the chance to torture me with a staging of leaving me again, I went ahead and packed his bags for him and left them at the door. I wondered how long this time would be. A few days, a few weeks? There was no rhyme or reason to give up on the silent treatments. I gave up trying to predict when he would show up without warning, forcing himself back into my life as if nothing had happened.
I lay in my bed, wondering how to deal with the news that one of my ovaries had to be removed. They needed to know whether the tumor was cancerous or benign. You left work early for a doctor’s appointment.
I buried my face in my pillow and allowed myself to feel the aching sadness again. Loud, piercing screams became a frequent pastime. Was this my life?
At the end of the day, I would convince myself I deserved his anger because I had set him back. It was my fault… I probably live with the consequences of my actions.
