disaster and has come close to bankrupting us numerous times over the years. His backup plan is me and my ‘bailout account’, as he calls it. I’ve always worked so that my salary is what I have to pay bills and spend with. I don't like touching any of the inheritance money and now, Jenny would certainly not want any of her cash touching Ryan’s hands.
I hear the door slam closed at six on the nose and heavy footsteps walking around downstairs. I can tell simply from the sound of his stomping that he’s not happy. The house is a mess. All his mess since I keep to the bedroom these days. Dinner isn't on the table and won't be, and I’m in bed, yet again. He didn’t come home last night. I was thankful at the time but it probably means he was out gambling away more money. As his steps draw near our bedroom door my heart rate spikes and my palms get clammy in anticipation.
“What the fuck Elle!” Are the first words out of his mouth when he comes barreling through the door. I stare at him blankly, waiting. “You’ve got to snap out of this. It’s been months! You look like shit... you won't put out... I’m STARVING... the house is disgusting and you still don't have a goddamned job yet!” He finishes. All I can think of while staring at him is that he is the most selfish person I’ve ever met.
“Ryan, this isn't about you... it’s about me. I’ll cope and move on and get past this on my terms and schedule.” I tell him struggling to keep my voice steady.
“Like hell you will! Oh, sure, it’s about you... what about how it’s affecting ME though?”
“I don't care how it affects you. I’m only worried about me right now.” I say as calmly as possible.
“FUCK YOU ELLE! Are you even capable of doing anything right? You sit here in this room all alone day after day.” He storms over to where I sit on the bed and grabs me by the shoulders roughly. “ENOUGH!” He screams while shaking me hard like a rag doll. He’s never been physical with me like this and it leaves me stunned and trembling. The rage emanating from his eyes is terrifying. I stare up at him with vacant eyes unable to comprehend that this morning when I woke my life was shit but now in the span of ten hours it’s infinitely worse. Everything has changed.
He stops shaking me suddenly. His eyes furiously searching mine for something, anything. When he finds nothing but my blank stare he swings his arm back and slaps me hard across the face. “Do you even feel anything?” He screeches as my head snaps left. I begin to right myself when his hand comes again knocking me sideways. My hand flies to my cheek. It stings and I taste blood where his wedding ring caught my lip, how ironic. My heart stopped beating, my lungs felt like collapsed and my skin was suddenly too tight over my body.
Determination pulses through me. In a rush I push him away and stand on shaking legs. “This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong. The last time I let you in.” My voice breaks slightly but I won't let him see me cry over him. I brush past him exiting our bedroom and darting down the stairs.
“Dammit Elle. I’m sorry!” He shouts after me. I don't stop. I snag my keys off the counter on my way out the door. I get in my car throw it in reverse and peel out the driveway.
I’ve lied to people for him. I’ve covered for him all this time. Downplaying all the terrible words he’s said to me, things he’s destroyed and for what? Did I think my lies would come true? That he was kind and caring? That he didn't mean what he did? There’s a moment of truth in my lies and tears fall down my face at an alarming rate but I don't feel sad. My thoughts are crystal clear. I’ve never felt so perfectly in tune with myself before.
I speed down our road not giving a shit about Ryan or that my life has shattered and splintered right in front of my eyes. The tree at the bend in the road is thick and old and gnarly. Deeply
I hear the door slam closed at six on the nose and heavy footsteps walking around downstairs. I can tell simply from the sound of his stomping that he’s not happy. The house is a mess. All his mess since I keep to the bedroom these days. Dinner isn't on the table and won't be, and I’m in bed, yet again. He didn’t come home last night. I was thankful at the time but it probably means he was out gambling away more money. As his steps draw near our bedroom door my heart rate spikes and my palms get clammy in anticipation.
“What the fuck Elle!” Are the first words out of his mouth when he comes barreling through the door. I stare at him blankly, waiting. “You’ve got to snap out of this. It’s been months! You look like shit... you won't put out... I’m STARVING... the house is disgusting and you still don't have a goddamned job yet!” He finishes. All I can think of while staring at him is that he is the most selfish person I’ve ever met.
“Ryan, this isn't about you... it’s about me. I’ll cope and move on and get past this on my terms and schedule.” I tell him struggling to keep my voice steady.
“Like hell you will! Oh, sure, it’s about you... what about how it’s affecting ME though?”
“I don't care how it affects you. I’m only worried about me right now.” I say as calmly as possible.
“FUCK YOU ELLE! Are you even capable of doing anything right? You sit here in this room all alone day after day.” He storms over to where I sit on the bed and grabs me by the shoulders roughly. “ENOUGH!” He screams while shaking me hard like a rag doll. He’s never been physical with me like this and it leaves me stunned and trembling. The rage emanating from his eyes is terrifying. I stare up at him with vacant eyes unable to comprehend that this morning when I woke my life was shit but now in the span of ten hours it’s infinitely worse. Everything has changed.
He stops shaking me suddenly. His eyes furiously searching mine for something, anything. When he finds nothing but my blank stare he swings his arm back and slaps me hard across the face. “Do you even feel anything?” He screeches as my head snaps left. I begin to right myself when his hand comes again knocking me sideways. My hand flies to my cheek. It stings and I taste blood where his wedding ring caught my lip, how ironic. My heart stopped beating, my lungs felt like collapsed and my skin was suddenly too tight over my body.
Determination pulses through me. In a rush I push him away and stand on shaking legs. “This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong. The last time I let you in.” My voice breaks slightly but I won't let him see me cry over him. I brush past him exiting our bedroom and darting down the stairs.
“Dammit Elle. I’m sorry!” He shouts after me. I don't stop. I snag my keys off the counter on my way out the door. I get in my car throw it in reverse and peel out the driveway.
I’ve lied to people for him. I’ve covered for him all this time. Downplaying all the terrible words he’s said to me, things he’s destroyed and for what? Did I think my lies would come true? That he was kind and caring? That he didn't mean what he did? There’s a moment of truth in my lies and tears fall down my face at an alarming rate but I don't feel sad. My thoughts are crystal clear. I’ve never felt so perfectly in tune with myself before.
I speed down our road not giving a shit about Ryan or that my life has shattered and splintered right in front of my eyes. The tree at the bend in the road is thick and old and gnarly. Deeply
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