Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(38)

Aberdeen talks about our weekend while I’m driving her home; a place I don’t feel like I belong at the moment.

I’m thankful the drive is short, because I can only pretend to be happy for a small amount of time. When I pull into the driveway I notice Brandon’s car is there. Aberdeen gives me a hug and a kiss before jumping out and running up the porch stairs. Like a good parent, I wait for her to get inside before I consider pulling away. I’m determined not to talk to Brandon, and if I can avoid seeing him it will be an added bonus.

I watch her continue to knock on the door, but he doesn’t come to let her in. This goes on until she runs toward my car to ask me for help. “Daddy isn’t answering. Can you unlock the door for me?”

I sigh, but know I don’t have a choice. Once I’m at the door I insert my key and gain entrance into the kitchen. Aberdeen follows behind me as I begin to discover the remnants of some wild partying. Booze is scattered across the countertop. Pizza boxes are left open on the kitchen table. The faint sound of music emanates from somewhere in the house that I have yet to determine.

My stomach is churning for a lot of reasons. I’d spent a lot of time cleaning only for him to destroy all the work I’d done. Plus, this is exactly the sort of activity I didn’t want to see him taking part in.

Out of nowhere a female surfaces from the living room. She’s in a T-shirt with no pants, and it’s very obvious she isn’t wearing a bra. I cross my arms while feeling the life slip from my body. “Who the hell are you?”

She answers immediately. “Who are you?”

“This is my house.”

Then I hear his voice coming from the opposite side of the kitchen. “Oh shit! This isn’t what it looks like,” Brandon stumbles.

I grab Aberdeen and pull her out of the house without saying a single word to my husband. This is the last straw. I can’t take it anymore. All of my fears have now been proved true. I’m done with this charade. The final nail has been driven into the coffin.

He comes out of the house in only a pair of boxer shorts. “Shay, you need to hear me out.”

“I don’t need to do a damn thing for you. It’s over. Read my lips, Bran. OVER!” I get our daughter in the car and rush over to the driver’s side. He holds onto the door so I can’t close it. “Get off.”

“No. Not until you listen. I don’t even know that chick.”

I’m disgusted. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Not only has he cheated, but it’s with a stranger he probably picked up at some bar. He’s obviously gone on a weekend binge and I’ve seen enough to never be able to forget it. “I want a divorce, Brandon.”

“Shay, please. You can’t do this. I’m not with that chick.”

I kick him hard in the shin, and it’s enough for him to back up and allow my car door to shut. Then I throw the vehicle in reverse and haul ass out of the driveway.

In my rearview he’s standing up watching me leave. He seems distraught, but it’s probably because he’s been caught red-handed. There won’t be reconciliation. I’m done. He’s made my mind up for me.

It takes me half the day to calm Aberdeen down. Instead of going to my parent’s I’ve called Char and asked if we could remain at her house until I can figure things out. I know she’ll arrive home soon, but I’m not ready to talk about it. My daughter is a mess, and to see her in this much pain because of the affliction her father has caused makes me want to hurt him. She’s having random bouts of sobbing, and she rambles on about never being able to see him again.

I’m not heartless. I’d never take her away from him permanently. He loves her no matter how he’s treated me. His parents will still want to talk to me, so I have to consider how to keep them involved without interfering in Brandon’s life.

Char finally arrives. She’s brought a bucket of chicken and sides because she knows I haven’t made any attempts to cook something. Though I refuse, I’m thankful Ab has something to eat for dinner, because the two granola bars, fruit snacks and banana can’t be enough for her little body to feel nourished.

Char keeps Ab occupied so I can try to rest. My eyes are swollen, my throat sore, and I feel like my head is going to explode. Sleep doesn’t come. Instead I’m riddled with questions I know I shouldn’t dare want to know.

Unbeknownst to me, I pull out my phone and turn it on. I’m bombarded by a slew of messages and voicemails of which I know are mostly from Brandon. Opting to not hear his actual voice, I decided to read the text messages.



I read the oldest first.



You have the wrong idea. I don’t know that chick. Please turn around and come talk to me. She’s gone now. – Bran



This is bullshit. I’ve done nothing wrong. – Bran



I think it’s funny how you can judge me when you’ve left me high and dry. Let me explain before you jump to conclusions. – Bran



You’re being ridiculous. Answer your phone. I can get this sorted out in a few minutes. – Bran



I’m not a cheater! – Bran



Answer the damn phone! – Bran



They had too much to drink last night so I let them stay at our house instead of them driving drunk. Please call me. – Bran