Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(17)

Love-Brandon





Chapter 8




I read his letter three times before folding it up and putting it in my purse. While Aberdeen gets ready for school I’ve packed up some of my things. Brandon may have thought we’d made up, but I knew better. We couldn’t solve our problems under the same roof. We were only adding fuel to a fire that should have been extinguished long ago.

I’ve kept a straight face for my daughter’s benefit. I don’t want to tell her what’s going on until it’s the weekend and she has time to recuperate. I wouldn’t want her teacher burdened with the aftermath of that type of news. She is going to need support for sure, but I want for it to be me at least the first couple of days.

I watch her step onto the school bus before gathering my things. It only takes a few seconds for the tears to start pouring out. I’m a mess. Driving is going to be difficult. I haven’t even called my mother to warn her I’m on the way. I’m not sure I want to get into it this early in the morning. She’ll tell me to suck it up and go home. My mom isn’t the best person for advice. My father can do no wrong in her eyes. They’re stuck together like glue and assume every relationship should be as prosperous. Every time I consider telling them my problems I feel like a failure. They expect more from me. Sadly, I’m done being someone’s punching bag.

This isn’t about leaving Brandon and breaking up my family. It’s about finding the person I once was; the person I long to be again.

The first step is separation. I can’t look at him without feeling angry. Even when we’re together I feel deserted in my heart. The sex we’d had the night before only reminds me I need to free myself of his hold. I’m far too comfortable with letting him have his way with me. I crave his attention, even when its in vain.

This time has to be different. I can’t give in to temptation. I have to break free.

My mother isn’t home when I pull into the driveway. I’m still crying. It doesn’t help that I had to drive by the dealership to get to her house. I’m a wreck while carrying my things in the house. My old room is filled with sewing equipment my mom uses for her side job. I move a couple things off my bed and plop down on it. Not much has changed in the ten by twelve space. She’s removed my posters, but the same bedding and curtains remain. I check out every corner to get an idea of where I can put some of Aberdeen’s things. She’s going to want to stay with me on some nights if not all of them. I don’t want this transition to be harder than it needs to be. If she requests to see her father I won’t keep her from him. If we’re good at anything it’s loving her.

I want to believe he’ll be heartbroken when he discovers we’re gone. I have hope that he’ll call me and beg me to come home, but I’m determined I won’t give in. I can’t if I want to have the possibility of a future with him. There’s a good chance this won’t work. I’ll lose my marriage, and he’ll find someone else who can be the person he needs. Right now it’s not me. We’re wrong for each other. If we were two people looking for a relationship at this very moment we wouldn’t be a match. Everyone can see it.

I spend the next hour contemplating going home and forgetting about this stupid plan. It’s easier to deny the truth than to face it. It isn’t until my mother arrives that things get worse.

She doesn’t make a sound until she’s standing in the doorway to my room. Her arms are folded in the front while her eyes focus on my bags I’ve brought inside. “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

“Mom, I just need some time to figure out what I’m doing.”

“A wife belongs at home with her husband if you ask me.”

Her old fashioned opinions are expected. I roll my eyes and pretend it doesn’t bother me. “Yeah, I get that. Just let me stay here for a few days until I can work things out with Bran.”

“Does he know you’re here, or did you do all this behind his back?” She knows me too well. I’m a coward. I can’t look in his eyes and tell him I’m leaving. I snuck away in a sense, to avoid the inevitable. To avoid the look on my husband’s face when I tell him I’m walking out the door and I don’t know if I’ll be returning.

“Yes,” I lie. It’s better than admitting I’m at fault.

“And he agrees with this move?” She giving me that look where she doesn’t believe me. I know it’s only a matter of time before she’s on the phone with his mom trying to come up with a way to bring us back together. Our meddling mothers are so similar they could be the same person. They’ve been close since before we were married, and I’m sure it’s part of the reason Brandon asked for my hand in the first place.

“We’re going to work it out. It’s best if we put some distance between us. Mom, I know you care, but I don’t need the third degree. I could use your support right now. This isn’t easy for me.” I start to feel a burning in my throat while my eyes gloss over. I can barely continue the conversation. “I don’t know what else to do anymore.”

She steps in the room and pulls me into her arms. This makes me more emotional. As much as I need this, I can’t stand that it’s happening. I back away and clear the tears from my eyes. “I won’t be in your way. Aberdeen and I have busy schedules. You’ll hardly know we’re here.”