I’ve got to be honest, i just don’t get it, you. Why can’t my husband just talk to me about his feelings honestly, reveal his true self? At least to just me, I mean, if he is not talking to his wife, who is he talking to? I guess this is my essential problem in my marriage, we are not living, or more precisely loving, honestly. Do you love honestly? I have reached a point when it is too difficult to live any other way.
Unless, if I really try hard to be happy, be who you want me to be, I could be yours. What character would you have me play? What type of words do you like to hear? Knowing exactly where I stand, your hand on me and looking into my eyes telling me, how should I be, feel, taste nothing sounds good unless you give me your words to feel first. I really am new at this, clueless really…
“Ok,” he finally said under pressure, “I will leave,” the fear came up through my body and I grabbed my yoga mat making my way to the door. Be calm, calm, calm my heart. He was yelling at me about his time, how he works so hard for the family and i do nothing but lay in bed all day. He used to call me names about the way I looked, belittle me about my abilities as a mother, until I finally got a job I was happy with… Dear god, I have become my grandmother, abused by a sociopath, but I loved my grandfather, and I lost my job. “Fine, instead of writing and meditating all day start doing it, dividing our assets!” shaking his fist at the minivan, me in reverse, as if there is anything to divide. But my real fear is that he has been stashing things away in his own name, i wonder for how long, and if his mother is involved.
I want to say “You can stay in the other room as long as you can be kind,” but instead my words just keep prodding, telling him to just tell me the truth. Not that I want to hear about whether he actually had sex with her, how many times, where, but maybe just a little. The last time this happened, when he finally broke and realized I really did know, we had the best, most emotionally unattached sex ever; and cried, and saw a therapist who convinced me that we really could forgive and live in love together. I went against my better judgement.
For too long, I didn’t listen, want to know the truth; but why didn’t you just tell me. Why couldn’t you have the strength to say real words. I guess I remember once you pouting about all sad, listening to me crying and feeling so alone beside you at night, not touching me. The next morning I drove out to your bike race in the vineyards above Napa, and you coyishly talked about your dreams for a new road bike; it’s what all the guys are riding, upgraded to all dura ace. I should’ve instead bought more bubbles from Domaine Chandon, another case or two, sharing it with the real men who rode all over those caves. I wonder how they make it, love, the wine.
I was on top for the next few years, and I wanted children, times were good, we were happy i thought. Still, I felt a hesitation. Why didn’t I listen to that voice inside my head, why didn’t I believe you, my own fucking heart.
Break the house in two, like the Roses did, I can see how it happens now, so sad. Is it all about power and control, do you think? But what I really need to say, (or perhaps neigh-neigh friend can tell her husband words to sooth mine’s mind and restless soul) is that we need to remove him from the title, pool all our resources, and when we are ready we can qualify for some sort of moderate-income housing, in his name, of course. But where we can both, BOTH and not together, go to when we are not with the kids. It doesn’t have to be big, a little pied-de-terre, if you will. It could even be a nice walking area of town… I know I am getting ahead of myself again, I am so bad about that, but I think we need to be on a happy path, bright future for our kids; DO NOT divide and conquer each other, ourselves, our children’s hearts… if I could just find the words between the argument, between us. Must I seduce you into agreement? Use my mystical powers of persuasion? I fear yours maybe too rough.