Separation Anxiety(17)

I remembered back to the days when the sight of him comforted me, when the smell of him overtook my senses with sensuality. Now I found that musky scent nauseating and the sight of him was only encouraging me to move faster to get this over with.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, using the pet name he’d given me. Once upon a time, I had found it endearing, but now… it was a little creepy.

“Hi, Richard,” I said, my voice weary.

“Come sit,” he said, waving me over.

Something was off about him, but I did as instructed. I took a seat across from him, and I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or hung over, but either way, he looked like hell.

“Are you okay?” I asked carefully, hugging the papers in my arms a little tighter against my chest, that hint of Jesse washing over me and comforting me like he was there even though he wasn’t.

He shook his head. “No,” he smiled sadly. “I’m not.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, realizing that the seven words he’d spoken since I entered the house were seven more words than we’d said to each other in at least a week. We’d avoided each other as much as possible, and it had been silent whenever we did happen to cross paths in our house.

“I miss you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

No. Oh, God, no. I braced myself for the predictable words that fell out of his mouth next.

“I want you back. I want to work on our marriage. I’ll do anything, Veronica. I’ll change, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I’ll be whoever you want me to be. I just want you back.”

I shook my head. A year ago, even six months ago, I’d have jumped at the chance. But this wasn’t the first time he’d given me this speech. I knew him well enough to know that old habits died hard with him, and he’d change for a few days, but then he’d morph back into the controlling, manipulating man he had always been.

The last time we’d been through this flashed through my mind. It had been a few months earlier, and he’d asked for forgiveness after he had decided that what he wanted to do outweighed my opinion. It had been the last high school football game of the regular season. All of the teachers always went with their significant others, and then we went out afterward and celebrated whether the team won or lost. It wasn’t about football; it was about collegiality and friendship and fun. But Richard had scheduled a late meeting at work, telling me he’d make it home in time so we could go together. I sat at home and waited for him, but he didn’t show until 9:30… and he was drunk. He’d scheduled the meeting at a bar, and I found out later that it really wasn’t a meeting at all, but it was a night out with the boys. He’d never had any intentions to come home and go with me to the game, and I’d missed out on a fun night with friends because he’d been too much of a bastard just to tell me he didn’t want to go.

Little things like that are forgivable when they happen by chance and once in awhile, but this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. He’d let me down more times than I could count, and I was finally fed up with it. It was about that point I’d suggested a trial separation. We hadn’t really “separated” since we were still living in the same house, but I hadn’t slept in the same bed as him since that night.

But the real key in that little speech of his was, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be.”

If he couldn’t be himself with me, then we were never going to work. And I didn’t like the real person who Richard had become. He was different than he was when we first met, but, then again, most people put on their game faces when they first meet new people. His slow change into someone else showed me his true colors.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Richard, but I can’t. I can’t try to fix something that’s beyond repair.” With that, I set down the papers on the table.

He read what was in front of him. “Dissolution of marriage?” he read, and then he looked up at me. “You want a divorce?”

I nodded. “I can’t keep living like this.”

I saw tears swimming in his eyes. I’d never seen him like that, and it hurt more than I thought it would.

“Then let’s not live like this anymore. Let’s fix it.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation after the weeks of barely speaking. I couldn’t believe that he thought there was still a chance for us.

He gazed at me for a moment, and then he swept the papers off the table and to the floor.

“I’m not fucking signing those papers,” he said. He stood up, and when I’d always found his height attractive, suddenly I found it intimidating. “And where the fuck were you last night?”