by Shey Stahl
Look at us, both of us drenched, clothes clinging to our bodies, hair matted to our heads, but it’s the look in our eyes that should shock most. Mine one of confusion and anger, hers of desperation, finally. It’s a look I haven’t seen in a while.
She steps in front of me, but I look past her, through her, like she’s not even there. She opens her mouth to try to say something, but I ask, “Why? Why do you want me to stop and listen? I mean seriously, what the fuck? You missed the appointment to have drinks with your ex?”
“It wasn’t like that. I was coming back from my spa appointment and ran into him. He asked if I wanted to have a drink and catch up, so I did, thinking I had some extra time. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I laugh. Not because what she’s saying is funny. I laugh mostly because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Are you fucking him?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. The look on her face tells me I shouldn’t have, but to be honest, I’m so far gone at this point there could be a neon sign blinking in my face telling me TURN BACK and WRONG WAY yet I wouldn’t have noticed. “Did you tell Thomas Dean the reason you dumped his ass in the first place was because you were fucking me? Does he know that?”
Her cheeks flush and maybe, and this is a strong maybe, she wants to kill me for asking that. “Go to hell, Ridley.”
I laugh, again. But it’s more like a hard chuckle, and I fight the urge to clap slowly. “You filed for divorce. Pretty sure I’m already there.”
She stiffens. “Just because I forget one appointment doesn’t give you the right to treat me like this when you’ve basically been absent these last five years working and forgetting you had a family at home who loves and needs you.”
The words hit me straight in the chest. How could she ever think I’ve forgotten about them? Everything I do is for her and the boys. “Unbelievable.”
“There’s a lot you refuse to believe.”
“Why did you come here, Madison? Were you actually going to give us a chance or was this just another ploy to appease me until it’s final?”
She says nothing.
“We built a life together, and you’re just throwing it away. There’s some things worth fighting for, and I’m asking if you’re going to fight for me.”
She blinks, tears welling up and she looks like she wants to vomit. “Ridley, I just don’t know anymore.”
“You don’t know? You don’t fucking know?
“It just sucks. It fucking sucks that for years you were gone and never making an effort.”
“Don’t you dare stand here and tell me I haven’t been trying! I am. I was. I had my fucking nut sack waxed to make you see I cared and wanted your attention!” By the way, the entire lobby heard that, and I guarantee most of them are eyeing my junk right now. “You were just to blind to notice. I’ve been busting my ass for the last month trying to make you fall back in love with me. All I’ve done is try and be there for you and the boys, and this is how you act now? I’m doing my best here, Madison. It’s not like I ever had a good example of the model husband or father. I’m literally learning as I go here and trying like hell to keep you happy. I didn’t want you and the boys to go through what my mother and I did. I never want Callan and Noah to have the feelings I did growing up, wondering why I was never good enough for my father. But you know what, what I finally realize today… it takes two people. I can’t be the one trying constantly to make this better.”
“Well, now you know how I’ve felt.”
Pay close attention to this next part. Or look away, whatever you prefer, because I’m pretty sure this is where I’m about to fuck everything up. Are you surprised?
Might as well go down in a blaze of glory, right?
“You know what, I’m done having this same argument with you. I’m done.”
She grabs my arm, panic flooding her eyes. “What do you mean you’re done?”
“It’s what I mean. I’m done. You win.” I throw my arms up in the air and let them fall to my sides. “If you want a divorce, I’ll give it to you. I’m tired of fighting for someone who doesn’t want to be married to me.”
Tears roll down her cheeks. “This is what you’re good at, isn’t it… walking away?”
What the fuck is she talking about?
“I’m just taking lessons from you.”
Let’s just skip to the part where she tells me to fuck off because it’s coming and all this arguing is making my brain hurt.
Guess what? This isn’t the first time a woman’s tried to slap me. You’re not surprised by that, are you?
But, like a man, I catch her arm by the wrist before she makes contact with my cheek. “Don’t you dare.”
And then as my luck would have it, she tries to hit me with the other hand. So there I am holding both of them. I’m apparently in asshole “I don’t give a flying fuck about anything” mode because I smile. “Is that all you got?”
Never ever say that to a woman because I’m holding both her hands and if she really wants to bring me to my knees where do you think she’s going to go next?
But she surprises me and doesn’t knee me in the junk. Instead, she practically spits in my face as she yells, “Fuck you!”
“Fuck you more!” I shout back.
All right, we’re being childish, but it’s the best I could do. I want to fuck her, sorry, but I do. Mostly I want to kiss her and take away this pain we’re feeling and lashing out at. I want to kiss the Madison from our wedding night. The girl with the smiles and the one who couldn’t wait to marry me, so much so her hands shook the entire time we said our vows.
I want to kiss that girl because she remembers why she married me. This Madison, she’s forgotten.
I edge closer, my body against hers so she can feel the warmth of mine scorch her skin. “I’m fucking obsessed with this, and you’re teasing me. Admit it, you made up your mind when you filed for divorce, and I was never going to change it, was I?”
Come on, give me something. You’ve taken so much from me lately. At least give me your eyes.
And when those beautiful blue eyes do find mine, it wrecks me.
I hear the sniff, the gasp, the moment reality hits her, and I meet her eyes despite not wanting to. I don’t want to look at her, but I have to. My heart drops when I see her tears, and I try to ignore them, I do, but I can’t.
Just let her go.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I know she sees the pain in them before I deny her the sight. My head hangs, my body wanting to give out, fall before her and beg her to put me out of my misery already.
Madison’s a strong woman, maybe even stronger than I’ve given her credit for all these years but she couldn’t, wouldn’t fight for us.
In a huffed breath, she lets out a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head. Madison turns to leave. And I don’t follow her, but as she’s walking away, she mumbles, “Thomas’s wife was killed in a car accident two years ago with their two-year-old son. He became a therapist here because when she died, he realized they’d grown apart and he had no idea who she was anymore.”
That was ugly.
Fuck me. No really, just fucking stab me in the heart already. Better yet, rip it out. I don’t need the useless organ anymore.
Here’s the thing. Life is a train wreck for most people. Sure, they smile and tell you their blessed and hashtag everything is perfect in their lives in an Instagram post, but it’s not.
They’re fucking liars.
Madison and I don’t talk the entire drive back home Sunday afternoon. I know Callan’s going to be at the house with Brantley, waiting for us, and what am I going to say to him?
That I gave up?
My mind replays everything on repeat. My attempts to win her back, the nut sac waxing, hammering my hand to a wall… it’s not only taken a toll on me physically but emotionally, this fucking hurts. I’m not going to lie.
Especially when you know deep down, you don’t want it. But the thing is, I shouldn’t have to convince my wife
she wants to be with me, should I?
When someone you’ve promised your heart to, vowed to love and cherish till death do you part wants out, it feels like the world’s closing in on you and nothing will ever be the same again.
In our case, it won’t.
I’ve done some research on Chernobyl. After the nuclear meltdown, nothing about that city was the same. Have you seen what it looks like? It’s like the day after a carnival leaves town with empty streets and trash all over the place.
That’s essentially how I feel. Empty. Abandoned.
When we pull up to the house, the lump in my throat gets so big I can barely swallow.
I can’t help the emotion swelling up, and I look over at her. I memorize the details of her face like it’s the first time I’m seeing her, only I know it’s the last. “We need to tell the boys.”
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t want to. I don’t want to either. It’s the last thing I want to do.
I’ll be honest with you, I thought if we went away, we could fix it that weekend and she would see she still loved me, but it didn’t happen that way. I knew it was a long shot, but I’ve never been the kind of guy to back down from a challenge. Deep down, I never thought I deserved a woman like Madison. Maybe this was fate finally delivering its fast “fuck you” ball.
I take the bags inside while Madison goes upstairs without saying a word. I can hear laughter outside and smile, the first one today. Running upstairs, I fill a bag of clothes. She’s up there in our bedroom on the bed, her face in her hands crying.
I’m not as much of an asshole as you’d think so I sit next to her and wrap my arm around her. She doesn’t drop her hands and continues to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, though I don’t know exactly what I’m sorry for. Maybe for everything, but mostly for what I said in anger.
“Me too,” she mumbles, pulling away and escaping to the bathroom.
Heading back downstairs, I think about everything I need to get done this week. I’ve neglected so much I’m behind at the office and the Wellington house. In the kitchen, I grab my laptop and charger and toss it in my bag along with some files I had in my office.
Brantley rushes inside, a water gun in his hand, Noah attached to his foot. “Come on, Wolverine, wingman. I need my wingman. We’re going down!” Dropping to his knees, he grabs Noah by the waist and holds him to the ground.
“Grr!” Noah growls at him, attempting to bite his nose.
Just then Callan runs inside after them, cackling with his super soaker in his hand and sprays Brantley’s back.
Someday, Brantley’s going to make a great dad. “Daddy!” Callan yells when he sees me and drops his gun on the kitchen floor running over to me. And then he sees my bag on the floor, and his stare holds mine. “Where are you going?”
I don’t want to tell him, but he’s here and questioning. He’s too smart for his own good.
I look at Brantley, who gives me a sympathetic smile. I swallow, my voice cracking when I say, “Come in here, buddy.” I move into the family room off the kitchen and then pat the spot next to me on the couch. “I need to talk to you.”
He shakes his head, knowing what I’m going to say. “I wanted you guys to fix your issues.”
I brush his hair from his face. “I tried, buddy, but sometimes you can’t fix it.”
“You didn’t try hard enough. It’s what you tell me. You do what you have to do to make it work, no matter what.”
I want to tell him he’s right, because he is. I should have tried harder but so should she.
Tears roll down his innocent face. “I don’t want you to move away.”
Jesus Christ, it’s like a goddamn sledgehammer has hit my chest. “I’ll still be around,” I tell him, my chin shaking as I lean in to kiss his forehead. “I’m never going to leave you. I just won’t be living here with you, and I’ll be at your game on Saturday.”
Callan stands, tears coming stronger now and I try to stop him, but he pushes past me and runs upstairs.
Goddamn it.
I look at Brantley who’s holding Noah. He sets him down, a frown set on his lips.
Standing, I take Noah from him. He slaps my cheek. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, bud.” I kiss his cheek, and he frowns.
He pushes my face away and wiggles out of my arms. “No kisses.”
Noah’s young enough he won’t understand most of this, but there will be a time when he does.
He runs upstairs.
“Need a place to stay?” Brantley asks.
I nod. I’ve got nothing to say.
You can’t believe that, right?
Well, it’s true.
THE NEXT FEW days pass in a blur, and before I know it, it’s Saturday morning.
Do you see that guy standing twenty feet from his soon-to-be ex-wife?
He’s fucking miserable. He’s barely slept, barely ate and this just in, homeless. Well, I’m sleeping on Brantley’s couch, but it sucks. I’ve always known he’s a bit strange, but the dude eats his cereal separate from his milk. Like he takes a bite of dry cereal and then takes a drink of milk.
He claims it keeps the cereal in the bottom of the bowl from getting stale.
Callan’s team is well into the second inning, I mean, quarter, or period… I don’t fucking know what it is, just that there are a bunch of kids kicking around a ball.
I’m not paying much attention to my surroundings, other than watching one of my son’s play soccer and the other one trying to befriend a lizard next to him.
That’s when I notice Nathalie standing next to me watching Brantley play with her little devil child.
Call me an asshole, but I say with a chuckle, “So you’re pretty excited to have a new girl in your club, aren’t you, Natalie.”
Without looking at me, she wipes what looks to be a tear from her face. Girls like Nathalie don’t cry though. It’s probably sweat. “What are you talking about, Ridge?”
Ha. That’s funny. Look at her purposely fucking up my name like I do hers.
“Your single mommies club. I’m sure she told you we’re getting a divorce.” The words burn my throat. “Now you have a partner in crime, and you can do everything single moms do, like talk shit about the ex and how useless he is.”
That’s when she turns to me, and I see she’s crying. Actual fucking tears. “I never wanted that for her. This isn’t a life I’d wish upon anyone.” She motions over her shoulder to her son. “Raising a child, raising a son by yourself isn’t ideal. It’s fucking hard, and there’s times where I hate myself for doing it alone. Mostly because if anyone is hurting, it’s Grady because when he finds out his father didn’t want him, I can’t imagine how that’s going to feel for him.”
I can. It’s a shitty fucking feeling, believe me.
And then I feel bad for being mean to her. For a half a second. This is Nathalie we’re talking about.
That’s when Kip walks up to me. “Where’s Madison?”
The last person I want to see today is this dick tip. I don’t look at him. “How should I know?”
“Well,”—he pushes his sunglasses up over his head—“she’s your wife.”
I notice his right eye is bruised. Probably from another one of these dad’s. I bet he made a move on their wife. I’d deck the fucker too. I shrug and walk away from him to wait for Callan. I’m sure as shit not telling him we’re getting a divorce.
About fifteen feet away I can see Noah playing in the park where Grady is, and out of nowhere, another little boy about two feet taller than my son pushes him down. I don’t do anything because I’m half expecting Noah to stand up and bite him. Wouldn’t be the first time he bit someone.
But he doesn’t. He sits there staring at the kid.
What a fuck face. The kid, not Noah. I’m just about to walk over there when Grady picks up a handful of rocks and chucks them at the kid’s face.
Nathalie gasps from behind me. “Oh my God, Grady don’t thr
ow rocks!” And then she takes off running toward them.
Madison reappears from the bathroom, and Noah runs toward her like nothing happened. She smiles when she notices me standing on the sideline. “Oh, hey.”
I smile too, but it’s forced and painful because I don’t think I have a reason to smile. “Hey.”
She’s quiet for a moment and then carefully looks at me, her voice just above a whisper. “Do you want to come by after the game and have dinner?”
“I thought you and Kip have pizza after every game. It’s like a tradition, right?”
Madison frowns. “We’d rather have dinner with you.”
Did you catch the we? I did. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I don’t say anything, and she panics a little, her cheeks flushing. “If you already have plans... I understand.”
“It’s not that I have plans. It’s just I left a jobsite to come here, and I need to get back.”
And here I am choosing work over my family again. Isn’t that why she wanted a divorce in the first place?
“I’ll come over around five, is that okay?”
Her eyes brighten. “Yes, that works perfect.”
WE HAVE DINNER that night and it’s as if nothing’s changed when you look at us from the outside. A family of four, eating, talking, laughing, but something has changed. It hurts to think this won’t be happening anymore and I won’t be sharing a home with them.
When dinner’s finished, Madison stands to clean up the table and Noah since most of his food went on the floor or himself. I grab the plate from her hand. “I can do this.”
“The dishwasher isn’t working.” She turns her head for a moment to look at Noah who’s now crawling on the floor in the kitchen under the table eating what he threw down there.
“I’ll do these for you.”
Callan stands up from his place beside me. “I’ll help, Dad.”
I’m not wild about him helping and you’ll see why in a minute, but I’m more caught up in the fact that he's calling me Dad all the time now and not ignoring me after the other night.
