Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(3)
“Stop being like this. I only want what is best for our family. You’re the one who wanted to get married in the first place. I didn’t hold a gun to your head.” I was fully aware we were both standing in the bathroom naked. If someone was peeping through the windows they were probably laughing their asses off. This was how we fought on a daily basis. Neither one of us could accept we both had equal responsibility for our marriage issues. “No one will love you like I do, Bran. Why can’t you see that? I’m not your enemy. I just want to be your equal. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He takes a few steps and grabs his pants off the floor, holding them as he speaks. “I’m not doing this with you tonight. I’ve got places to be.”
“Like strip clubs?”
“There you go again, always assuming I’m a piece of shit.”
“No, I just know how you and your friends are. They’d be happy if we broke up. They want you to have your freedom. I’m not an idiot. They don’t care about breaking up our family.” I was getting choked up. “I want you to stay home with us. For me. Please. I’m asking you this one time. Don’t be mad. Stop fighting with me over it. Let’s hang out together. We can get a movie or play with Aberdeen.”
“I already told my friends I’m going out. It’s a done deal.”
I cross my arms, feeling defeated. “Fine. If you walk out that door I’m packing your shit and driving it to your mother’s house.” It was something I always said as a last resort.
This amuses him. “Bullshit. You don’t have anything without me. I pay the bills. I give you the money that puts food on the table. I’m the one who pays when you want to eat out. You’d lose it all without me.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
“Maybe I do. I’m sick of you always trying to be right about everything. You won’t let me do what I want. You have no trust for me whatsoever. I work fifty hours a week so you can have a nice house. All you do is complain.”
“It’s your job as my husband to take care of me, as I do for you. I give ninety percent and you give ten, if that.”
“That’s hilarious. You assume you have it all figured out.” He rubs his face. “I never wanted this. You trapped me when you got pregnant, but I’ve never blamed you, not once.” His hands wave around in my direction. Immediately I feel wretched, like I’m just a fat piece of shit he can’t stand being married to. “You think I can’t get something better?” This was a common threat. When I complain this was what he always throws in my face. “I don’t have to be here, Shay. You’re lucky I’ve stuck around this long.”
Call it a gut reaction, or maybe the fact that he is glutton for punishment, but my knee jerks, driving force right between his legs. Never in my life have I ever heard of someone getting kicked where the sun doesn’t shine while they are erect. I watch my tough husband collapse onto the floor in excruciating pain. With my hands coming up to shield my amusement, I feel a sting come back to my eyes. Inflicting pain on him wasn’t my goal. I don’t want violence to take control of the situation. “Shit. Bran, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”
He shoves me away. “Get the f*ck off of me. What the hell, Shayla?”
A short cackle leaks from my lips. “You wouldn’t have gotten kicked if you weren’t being a dick. All I’ve ever asked is for you to love me. Is it that hard? Do you have any idea how it feels to hear you say those things to me?”
“Quit your griping. I’m the one on the floor, probably sterile now. Damn woman. I’m dying here, and you’re still blabbing about what you want. Just shut the f*ck up already.”
I reach for him again, unable to give up trying. “Are you okay?”
“I will be once I’m away from you.”
I pull my legs up to my chest and begin to cry as I watch him sit up straight and slow his breathing. “I think you should stay home tonight. I might have caused internal injuries.”
“I think you should suck my dick, but you’d probably screw that up too.” He promptly stands. “You’re lucky if I come home at all after the shit you just pulled. Do me a favor. Don’t do that shit you always do. I’m putting my phone on silent this time. Oh, and I’m not driving, so don’t even consider getting in the car to hunt me down. I’m meeting Toby and we’re leaving my car at his house. I’m not letting you embarrass me again in front of the guys. I’m still hearing shit about it.”
“Please don’t go. Don’t leave mad.”
“Mad?” His eyes are filled with anger and nothing else. “You just kicked me in the balls when I was about to f*ck you. You’ve given me shit about going out for a week. I’m tired of this. You’re not my mother. Get that through your damn head.”
“I never said I was.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to say it. I’ve never been punished more than this shamble of a marriage. I’ll see you when I see you.” I don’t follow him when he exits the room. It would only make him more angry. I’ve given it my best shot to keep him home, and failed like every other time.
Twenty minutes later I hear the sound of his Mustang firing up and the gravel kicking as the tires maneuver out of the driveway. The sound of feet let me know my daughter is coming. It isn’t like her to take an evening nap, but she’d been at T-ball practice and it wore her out. I wipe my eyes and do my best to recover from my latest bought of tears to reassure her nothing is wrong. This is my life. No matter how hard I try to turn away, I know I’d never be able to let go. Too much is at stake, and losing everything I care about isn’t an option.