Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Afew nights later, Teresa was busy making one of her mother’s favorite meals for dinner, pasta e piselli.
It was the kids’ last day of school, and she always made this for them to start the summer.
She didn’t want to disappoint them. Plus, she was a ball of nerves, and cooking usually calmed her down. But not that night.
Frank was late getting home for dinner—again.
And this time, she didn’t have to wonder where he was.
She knew. She now had a picture in her mind of what Frank’s lies looked like.
Frank was with the guy she’d seen in his car in the parking lot of the hospital.
His boyfriend. She’d been such a fool. Well, she was done being a fool. No more.
Tonight would change everything—her marriage, her family, her kids, and her life. She was going to ask Frank to leave. No, not ask. Demand. It was time. She’d had enough.
Frank sauntered in a half hour later and washed up at the sink. He looked so at ease, unperturbed that he’d made them all wait. Teresa called Anthony and Lena to the table as she brought over the serving bowl heaped with pasta.
“Kids, time to eat—c’mon.”
Anthony scurried to the table and plopped down in a chair. “It’s about time. I’m starving.”
She turned to Frank. “Yes, it is about time. Why are you late? I told you we were eating at six tonight.”
Teresa knew the answer but wanted him to have the courage to say it—to say anything other than the crap he’d been feeding her for years.
He’d say nothing close to the truth—she knew that.
But it didn’t stop her from chiding him.
She was fed up. Their marriage had been nothing but lies. Years of them.
“I was at the boatyard. I told you that,” he replied.
Lame excuses, like always. And the kids sat there listening to them and watching her accept them.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Her pulse throbbed in her temples, and she felt like her head was going to explode.
All the years of pent-up frustration and disappointment threatened to break the surface.
“No, you most certainly did not.”
“Well, I thought I did. Either way, I was at the boatyard. That’s it.”
She fumed at his dismissive tone. “That’s not it, Frank, and we both know it. There’s a lot more going on, isn’t there?”
He stared at her, a frightened look in his eyes. “Teresa, what are you doing? Stop with the theatrics.”
She was tired of being made a fool, like she was insane for imagining what was really going on.
Something inside Teresa broke loose. She grabbed her plate of spaghetti and peas and hurled it in Frank’s direction.
He crouched down, hands over his head to protect himself, and it hit the wall with so much force it surprised her it didn’t break through.
She saw the incredulous look on his face, like he was dealing with a madwoman and didn’t recognize her.
“Theatrics? Oh, that’s a good one. These are your theatrics, Frank.”
He stood, gripping the sides of the table. “Don’t be hysterical, Teresa. Nothing’s going on.”
There was a time when she would have bought it—when she’d wanted nothing more than to accept his excuses, to keep loving him, to not lose him for good.
But that time had long passed. Memories flooded Teresa’s mind: Frank's late nights, her emotional overeating, his flirting with Henry, seeing him with his lover in the car right after losing her mother.
All that was bad enough. And then on top of it, to find out Lena had suspected for years and kept it hidden. What a burden that must have been.
“Why don’t we talk about the real subject, Frank? The one we keep avoiding.”
She hadn’t planned to say anything in front of the kids.
She’d envisioned confronting Frank in private later, after dinner—just the two of them having it out.
But she’d be damned if she would let him continue to paint the picture of her as the crazed wife with a wild imagination, when they both knew that was a complete farce.
Frank’s lips quivered, and he glanced nervously around the room, like an animal backed into a corner. “Teresa, please, that’s enough.” His eyes softened, pleading with her silently to stop, to keep his secrets, to continue buying his lies.
No more. I’m done.
“Yes, it is. Enough is enough, Frank. You aren’t fooling anyone anymore. Your own daughter knows what’s going on—a thirteen-year-old.”
Frank turned frantically to Lena, who looked like she was trying to make herself disappear. Anthony stopped eating, his face in shock, trying to register what was happening.
Teresa then heard herself say the words she should have had the courage to say years ago. “Get out, Frank. Get out of this house now.”
Anthony jolted upright and cried, “What do you mean, get out?”
“I mean, I want your father to leave,” Teresa said calmly.
Frank didn’t budge or move a muscle. “Teresa, please stop. Let’s talk about this later. Alone.” He was trying to talk his way out of this, the way he always did.
Stay strong. You need to do this. For yourself and for the kids. Anthony would be heartbroken, but the best thing for him wasn’t for her to continue this charade. And Lena knew exactly what was going on. Teresa wouldn’t force her daughter to live a lie any longer.
“No, Frank. No more talking. We’ve lived with this secret long enough. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done.”
She hurled the entire serving bowl across the table. She watched it crack against the wall, spilling the precious food she’d taken so much time to prepare, the bowl now in pieces, ruined. She didn’t care. It was inconsequential. Leftover debris from her failed marriage.
Teresa glared at Frank, who looked defeated, sinking back in his chair.
She clenched her jaw. He was the one who’d broken his promise not to begin another affair.
He was the one who should leave. But he just sat there while she blew up in front of their kids, throwing plates.
And as he did, she felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.
She couldn’t stand another minute in his presence, living this lie. She had to escape, to get out of there.
“If you won’t leave, I will.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d processed what she was saying. She didn’t have time to second-guess her next move.
As if her body had a mind of its own, she felt herself get up from the table, go into the kitchen, grab her purse and keys, and head for the back door.
“Mom, no! Don’t go!” Lena cried. Her frightened voice broke Teresa’s heart. She hoped Lena and Anthony could forgive her someday.
Teresa turned the knob on the back door, opened it, and stepped outside.
She marched to her car, flung open the door, and sat in the driver’s seat, hands trembling as she tried to put the key in the ignition.
Her mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other.
What have I done? Where will I go? How long will I stay away?
Am I prepared to come back and kick him out?
What if he won’t leave? And how could I leave my kids behind?
Teresa shook her head, forcing those thoughts to take a back seat.
She couldn’t deal with them at the moment.
All she knew was that she couldn’t go back inside.
She needed to get away. She started the engine, took one quick glance back at the house with her fractured family still inside, and drove away.