Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(26)
“I don’t want it to be this way, Bran. We have to work together.”
“Well, until you come to your senses, I refuse to do a damn thing to help you with the exception of our daughter. She’ll always come first. And I meant what I said about her living arrangements. She belongs at home, and that’s where she’ll stay. You can bitch all you want, but I refuse to mess with her head any more than you already are.”
“You’re not being fair. It’s not like I packed up my whole life and moved across the country. I’m at my parent’s house, and I’ve assured you it’s in order to fix our marriage, not ruin it.”
“From where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
I try to take a deep breath and hold in my anger toward my husband. He knows how to push my buttons. He’s pissed at me and he has every right to be, but I won’t stand for being the blame for all of this. “If things were good between us I wouldn’t have taken drastic measure as I’ve done. One day you’ll respect the hell out of me for this.”
“Keep telling yourself that when you’re still living at your parents a year from now, alone and miserable.” He hangs up on me again, this time leaving me more aggravated than before.
This fight is far from over. There’s going to be many more disagreements before we can find resolution, but this is the last resort before I throw in the towel. He’s only proving exactly what I’ve suspected all along. If Brandon isn’t willing to wait for me, our marriage probably isn’t worth salvaging.
My four hour shift at work should keep my mind off of everything, but it doesn’t. Char discovers me crying in the changing room. She knocks on the door three times before I wipe my face and crack the door. “I’m fine. I just need a second.”
She looks behind her and then back to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I step back and allow her entry. “I don’t know where to begin.”
She sits and folds her hands on her knees. “I’m a good listener. It’s slow as hell today. Let me help.”
I proceed to tell her about my marriage, and how it’s been failing for a long time. I don’t go into every single little detail, but when I’m done she’s knows enough to understand why I’m so depressed.
“I think you’re doing the right thing, Shayla. How else will you ever know if he’s devoted to you and your marriage?”
“Exactly.” She gets it. Finally, someone understands why I’ve gone to extremes. “I wish my husband could see it. He’s determined to make my life miserable until I come home and go back to the way things were. I can’t take it anymore. I hate my life, because I’m not in control of it.”
She pulls out her cell phone and takes down my number. I watch as she sends me a message. “Now you have my number too. I don’t have many friends on this side of the Bay Bridge, so if you ever want to talk, or go out for a couple drinks, let me know.”
I smile, even though I’ve never liked hanging out at bars. “I appreciate that.” Truth be told, I don’t have many friends either. Besides my parents, no one knows what’s going on with me.
Before Char stands to head back out to the floor, she offers me one more piece of advice. “My mom always tells me to follow my heart. She says we always know what’s right, even if we can’t admit it to others. You’re obviously a few years older than me, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve certainly never been married or had children.”
“I appreciate any advice at this point. It’s good to know I don’t have to hold it all in.”
“Your husband sounds like he’s being a jerk. I hope he realizes how hard this is for you, and he gives you the time you need to make things good again.”
She offers a friendly hug before exiting the dressing room.
For the next two hours I fold clothes and manage to keep busy, all while worrying about what will happen next.
Once I clock out of work I head to Aberdeen’s school. Since she usually rides the bus I have to go in to check her out as a car rider. As soon as I step into the office I get a bunch of questionable looks. “Mrs. Vincent, did your daughter forget something?”
I’m confused. “Not that I know of. I’m here to pick her up.”
“I’m sorry. You just missed your husband by about ten minutes or so.”
I’m angry, but I have no right to tell them he can’t pick her up. He’s her father, so obviously it’s allowed. I pretend I’m confused. “Oh, right. I completely forgot to check my messages. He said he was going to try to get off early. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll meet them at home.”
The school is about twenty minutes from where we reside. I drive the speed limit because cops are strict on people blowing through school zones. When I pull into the driveway I see my husband’s mustang parked. I pull up behind him and walk up the porch steps. I don’t know why I expect him to greet me, but when he doesn’t I’m more annoyed. The gravel makes it obvious when someone arrives.
Just as I open the kitchen door I see him sitting at the table with Aberdeen. She’s got her homework strewn across it, and on the floor next to them sits a laundry basket full of clothes. The kitchen sink is filled with dishes and there are crumbs on the countertop that look to be from breakfast.