3. Ben
THRE E
Ben
N avigating rolling hills with zero street lamps an hour north of Atlanta, I get a text from Ethan:
Turn back. Stay overnight.
His offer is my reply:
Tempting.
He texts back:
Pillow fight?
I reply:
Not tempting.
The familiar road sign stuck in the ground a few hundred yards before the turn off to our house warns me to slow down to 25 MPH for the sharp corner ahead, and it feels directed at me.
A fight approaching.
Slow down.
Turn back.
I voice-text:
Maybe a joke pillow fight isn’t such a bad idea.
Ethan texts back:
Let’s do it.
I reply:
Nah. Gotta talk to the Ex. It’s time.
The day I told Dad I was miserable, Jonny was at school and when I got back to our farm, Shelby was waiting.
“Ben, I looked for you but you weren’t here.”
“You came outside?”
“Why that tone?”
I stared at her with resignation. “Because you never come outside if given the chance.”
She sneered, something she did a lot in the months leading up to my confession to Dad. That’s when it became unavoidably obvious to me that I had been far too comfortable in misery’s bed.
For the first few years it was a lot of what I now know is called gaslighting: Your family doesn’t like us. You see how they stare at us. They know I was second choice and you know what, Ben? Some of them secretly think you’re not too smart, being just a farmer. We can’t hang around them when they think of you like that. That you could’ve been so much more. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. I overheard Paige tell Wren. And I don’t want to see Paige. You wanted her first. I can’t get it out of my mind whenever I see her. She looks down on me, too. You saw it, that look on her face. Didn’t you see it? You must’ve noticed. And Hannah, she hates me the most. I swear Sofia Sol almost threatened me. You just didn’t realize that’s what she was thinking. A man is supposed to protect his wife and I feel unsafe around them. Thank you for taking such good care of me. For protecting us. It’s not for me, Ben. It’s for us. It’s for you, me and Jonny.
Gaslighting.
I’ve read up on it after Mom suggested I learn more about the subject. The essence of its evil is someone starts small, where you might believe it, then works their way to bigger things, building a reality to suit their own motives.
It was the yelling I didn’t want to deal with, which came if I said I didn’t believe that stuff was true. And the crying. I’m a sucker for a woman crying. Especially a woman I love.
Loved.
Past tense.
I don’t know if Paige said I’m not smart, but I doubted it much more than believed it. I’ve never been insecure but that shit gets into your head when it’s done long enough. No way was I going to whine to them — Did you call me stupid? -- not after all that fucking chaos I went through with Gabriel and Paige. No. Just no.
So I kept quiet.
And protected us.
But now I’ve had to be honest with myself. A lot of the times I stayed home with her was solely to avoid her lashing out. Having a fit. Crying to sleep. Or the cold shoulder which would last for days. Weeks sometimes.
I also wanted to avoid the looks they gave us, which were true. My cousins never approved of Shelby and when we showed up at one of our famous Family BBQs or any of the big events, everyone would get quiet. I could see what they thought of us. I’ll never forget when we showed up to help Caden move to Chicago. Never saw so much coldness from my cousins than on that day.
So yeah, I protected us .
A man doesn’t leave his marriage. Vows are vows. I’m the first Cocker to do it and, I think, to have a reason to. That I know of.
But I’ve missed those guys. Year after year my world got smaller and my wife never got any happier, taking me down the pit of hell with her.
I walk in, shoulders tense. She gets up from the couch, her favorite place to be, blonde curls still beautiful, pretty face hardly aged in the decade or so we’ve been together, but she’s hideous as she demands to know, “Where’s our son?!”
“Why are you here?” I toss my keys onto a hook by the door without looking. They land right next to hers.
“This is my house, Ben!”
“No, this is my house. When I got your texts I considered calling police.”
“You have no way of stopping me from being here…”
“—Which is why I didn’t call. ”
Shelby glares at me. I inhale patience and find none.
“Where’s our son!”
Here we go.
“Staying at Ethan’s and Charlie’s.”
“Those snobs?!”
“THAT’S ENOUGH! I will not hear another word against my family from you EVER AGAIN!”
She gasps.
It’s the first time I’ve yelled.
Yelling is her thing.
Never mine.
Until right now.
“Don’t pretend like you have anything against the rich because all you do is watch reality TV shows about them! You’d give your eyeteeth to be one. You don’t watch that shit that much without wishing it was you. So let’s talk about what’s really got you scared! Your doctor called and told you I saw her yesterday.”
Shelby slams her sneakered foot on the ground. “She’s my doctor! Not yours!”
“You can’t help me out on the farm because of your back? Your arthritis? Your ruptured achilles. Guess what? I was planning my finances with this divorce, what I was willing to cover for you, so I asked about a surgery — if one would help so you could work again. Support yourself and have independence. And you know what she said? You’re healthier as a twenty-year-old athlete! Strong bones! News to me! ”
“She’s not allowed to talk about my health with anyone! That’s against the law!”
“Lying to your husband about things like that should be against the law.” I head to the kitchen cupboard, pull out a glass and fill it from the tap with our well-water, tastier than city even when its filtered. I wanna throw the glass, but that’s not my style. If I’m anything, I’m a man who controls his emotions. Even this fight is me holding back. But it ain’t easy now that I’ve woken up to what’s really been going on here.
I gulp down the water and set down the glass, turn around to face her and repeat some of the lies she’s told me, “My back hurts. My arthritis is kicking up otherwise I’d love to help you on the farm. I’m sorry I can’t clean up after dinner. I would drive Jonny to school but…”
“Ben…”
“Don’t smile all cute like that at me, Shelby.”
She comes closer, tilting her head, a blonde curl falling over one of her big eyes. “Benny.”
Not falling for it this time, the fake innocence, the manipulation, the victimhood, I answer with zero emotion, “It’ll get you nowhere this time.”
Like a shot, the smile turns to sneering. “You’re a bastard, Ben! I hate you!”
“I’m glad I don’t hate you. Even if you are a narcissist.”
“I’m not a narcissist!”
“YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF A NARCISSIST! ”
Shelby’s lip trembles, “If I’m so terrible, why did you marry me?”
“Because I didn’t know. Now, go back to your mother’s. Jonny’s safe and I don’t want you here tonight.”
“This is my house, too!”
“You’re not getting this house. It’s my house. I’ll have to pay you alimony, but this house is mine. It’s my livelihood, and I owned it before we got together.”
“You’re still paying on it!”
“Have you ever paid on it?!”
“I’m your wife! You want a hired hand!”
“Because I expect you to help me carry the load?”
“I’m not a farmer, Ben!”
“Then why the fuck did you marry one and not get a job to help me pay for our home?! For clothing for us and our son. Health insurance! Am I supposed to do that and cook and clean? Where do you come in? Where is this a partnership? Because I’m pretty sure watching reality TV shows doesn’t add to anyone’s life and it’s never added to ours. Don’t pull that shit with me. This is both of our responsibility. We used to work together, in the beginning ! Then you weaseled your way out, with one excuse or another, until I felt like I was hurting you if I asked you to throw in your share of the work. I make all the meals?—”
“—I make breakfast!”
“Cereal isn’t cooking. And the only reason you make orange juice is because you love it.” I motion to the living room I cleaned. “You had Jonny doing all of the chores you could do, pretending to me like it was you who kept it nice!”
“I cleaned the house!”
“Bullshit. You think I didn’t see you pick up the Lysol when I walked in, grabbing that rag pretending like you’d been helping Jonny clean up the whole time I was outside? I watched from the window toward the end there just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind. Every single time, you were on the couch and he was cleaning.”
“You were spying on me? When?”
“Right before I called it quits.”
“That’s…that’s…” Her eyes flicker as her mind tries to conjure a sword to throw.
“Shelbs, it’s over. I’m done. Just the thought of losing you makes me feel a hundred and twenty-seven pounds lighter.”
Her weight.
This statement makes her lose her mind. Like a rabid dog she snarls with saliva strings between her lips, “I’m your wife!”
“Not for long.” I lift her up, and she fights me. Slaps my face over and over as I carry her to the door.
“I hate you, Ben! I’ll make you pay! I’m getting a really good lawyer and you’re going to lose this house!”
“I can’t wait to see your absence.”
I set her down on the porch after fighting to get the door open with her flailing around and clawing at me.
“I hate you!”
“I know you do. You hate anything that doesn’t align with what you want. Think about someone other than yourself for once. Think about Jonny and us having to co-parent him. Let’s end this as easily as we can.”
I wince as her nails scratch my face. “God woman, quit it!”
She spits, “Fat chance!”
I mutter, “Great,” holding her back as I walk inside. Shutting the door between us, I grab her bag from the accent table by it, and her keys hanging on a hook next to mine, hoping I never see them together again. She’s trying to open the door but my cowboy boot is easily holding it closed. With my hand out to stave her off, I muscle my way outside, and hand her things to her. “This is the first time I’ve really said the whole truth to you, and it’s time for you to listen to more. HEAR ME NOW. There is no more us. Don’t be showing up here again without invitation. If you don’t want to do this amicably, we’ll fight to the end. But know this, Shelby, I don’t hate you. Please don’t make me hate you. We have a son to raise together.”
Her face is red with fury. “You hate me! You do. That’s why you’re divorcing me! Just admit it!”
“It’s not you I hate. It’s me. I can’t stand myself when I’m with you.”
Stunned, she stares, then storms off to the Toyota Corolla that’s had more mileage put on it in the past few months since I said I was leaving than in the four years since I bought it for her. “I’m taking Jonny with me, Ben!”
“You’ll get joint custody.”
She throws the driver’s-side door open. “Bullshit!” Tosses her bag inside so hard it hits the passenger window. “I’m going to make sure he never sees you again!” And climbs in.
I say in a low breath, “That’s not going to happen,” and watch dust fly on her exit.