It wasn’t the first time.
I take another gulp of the brown liquid in my cup as I sit at the table, fingers tapping rapidly on the granite countertop. The wine glasses that were once chilled were warm, and the meals that were once warm were chilled.
And as the clock strikes twelve, I hear the front door slowly creak open, the sound of light footsteps entering and the sound of a deep voice casually humming under his breath.
The darkness surrounds me as I watch his shadow move across the living room, sock covered feet treading on our hard wood floors. And as I watch him tip toe toward the stairs, a sort of rage that I haven’t felt before bubbles and surges out of the well-hidden box inside of me.
“Where were you?”
The sound of my voice causes him to make an abrupt stop, left hand on the railing and a foot raised above the first step. I stand, heels making loud clacking noises as I walk towards him, turning the light on and seeing the rumples of his collar.
He turns, eyes downcast in what I could only assume was guilt. “I just had a long day… and I told you I might be late.”
It was the same excuse that I’ve heard in the past six months- an excuse that I used to dismiss with a quiet nod and a night spent sleeping in the guest room instead of next to my husband.
But tonight, would be different. And with the added help of the four glasses of wine and the shot of tequila, tonight would be the change that would determine our fate.
“No, you’re lying. And you’ve been lying to me for a very long time.”
He takes a deep breath, moving toward the couches and taking a seat. “What do you want me to say? Huh? What do you want from me?”
He gives an exasperated sigh, as if I were the problem, and I could feel the thundering thumps of my heart as the rage threatens to fully consume me. How dare he? How dare he sit there, legs spread out and arms behind his head as if he were watching TV. As if I was just another minor inconvenience in his day.
I stand in front of him, arms crossed, face twisted in disgust and fury.
“What happened to you? What happened to us? How can you live with yourself? You’ve been seeing someone, haven’t you? You’ve been cheating on your wife!”
And do you know what he does? He laughs. A full bellied laugh before his eyes catches mine, and an expression that I’ve never seen before, one of indifference, comes across his face and settles in his eyes.
“Sweetheart, our marriage has been failing for years. After… after that incident, we’ve been sleeping on separate sides of the bed. What did you expect? For everything to go back to normal?”
“No, Kevin. I expected us to work towards a better relationship, to do therapy, anything! But instead… instead you lay with someone else every night? And you don’t even have the decency to separate from me? Anything but sneaking around and laying with other women! Or is it just one woman? Hmm? Who is it? Do I know her?”
He scoffs, crossing one leg over the other with a shrug. “No, you don’t. And why now? Why did you decide to bring this up tonight? I know you knew for a long time.”
A headache begins in the front of my head as I rub my temples, brows furrowed. There were too many emotions coming to surface- rage, disbelief, misery, grief. It was something that I’ve suppressed for a long time- ever since our daughter died, emotions were something I wasn’t too fond of. After crying for three weeks straight, it was as if… as if she never existed. I hid all the photos of her, put her belongings in storage, and locked her bedroom because the pain… was too great.
And my husband… I don’t think he ever dealt with the grief of losing her. Ever since that night, he was distant. Ever since that night, I could feel the tears in our marriage, see the slow decay of our love, but I thought it would pass. I thought our love was strong, that it could sustain anything. But I guess I was wrong.
“Will we ever be able to go back to the way we were? To be a couple again?”
The look he gives me solidifies the knowledge that I had buried, that our marriage was over. We would never be together again. He would continue to go out and sleep with other women, to fill that empty hole that was left behind when the love of both of our lives, our child, passed away in an untimely death.
He would never heal.
And me? I was tired of trying to heal us, of hoping that one night he would come home early and hold me close as we slept.
I was just so…tired. That was the only emotion left.
“Okay.”
I nod, turning my back on him and walking towards the kitchen, opening the drawer, and reaching in before closing it.
“Okay.”
I hear his footsteps as he follows me, standing in the doorway.
“Listen, love, I-“
“Okay.”
He stops, confused, as I saunter towards him. My hand reaches up, stroking the side of his face as I memorize every line, every expression, and I lean forward, my lips close to his before I hear his gasp.
I back away, hands shaking as he grips the hole on his side, eyes wide in disbelief and fear as he falls on his knees, pressing his hands against the wound to try and stop the blood. His mouth opens, words failing as blood gurgles out of his mouth. He blinks once more before he falls onto his side, eyes open and staring into the abyss.
I place the gun down and look away from his body, sitting on the counter as I dial 911.
“There are two dead bodies at my address.”
And with a soft smile, I close my eyes, the image of my husband and daughter the last thought in my mind.
We would all be together again.