Chapter 3 #2
The salad was done, the roast was slow cooking, and the sides were complete.
I started to feel rejuvenated and ready to give my man the intimacy we needed to restore the love in our marriage.
When I finished my makeup, I pulled out his gift bags that included the five senses—sight, touch, taste, smell, and sound—and placed them on the bed.
Once I slipped on the all-white lingerie set, I tossed on the white robe, went downstairs to put on some music, poured us a glass of champagne, and then plated the food.
I looked at the time, noticing it was ten minutes until eight. Leo would be home soon, so I sat at the table, sipped my champagne, and waited.
When eight thirty approached, I frowned and went to get my phone.
I dialed his number, and it just rang out to voicemail.
Another hour rolled by, and still, no word from him.
I called the fire station, but no one answered, so I assumed they might be dealing with an emergency.
When eleven o’clock came, I got worried.
I called his best friend, Manwell, but he said he hadn’t seen him since he left work an hour before Leo.
By midnight, my worry turned to anger as I slipped on some clothes, trashed the food, and washed my face of the makeup.
I sat in the living room, downing glass after glass of champagne until finally, at twelve thirty, a text message came through on my phone.
I stared at his name on my screen and wanted to will that text message away.
Something in my gut told me that whatever he had to say was going to change my life forever.
It was a two-and-a-half-minute voice note. I pressed play and waited until his voice filled the air.
“Ali, . . . I honestly don’t know what to say other than just say it.
I’m not coming home, baby. I love you and my kids with everything in me, but I just can’t do it anymore.
I tried to be there for you and the kids, but this shit is too heavy a burden for me to carry.
I love you; I swear I do, but I didn’t ask for all of this.
I wanted you. Just you. We made a vow to one another that we would wait to start having kids when we turned thirty-five, but then you got pregnant with Carsyn at twenty-seven.
I was okay with that, but then Chloe came two years later, then Carlee, two years after.
I asked you multiple times to get your tubes tied or get on birth control, but you refused to do either.
“I’m sorry I had to do you like this. You’re such a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, but I’m just tired of coming home to a chaotic home after being out in a chaotic world all day .
. . I promise I’ll give you anything you need for them and yourself.
You can keep the house and the car, and I’ll have my mom and aunts come by to pick up my things sometime this weekend.
I’m sorry, baby. I am. I hope we can be cordial for the kids’ sake and make arrangements for visitation rights.
I love you, Ali, but this was never supposed to be us. ”
The voice note cut off, and I sat there, staring at our family photo on the wall as my eyes pooled with emotion. Tears as big as raindrops dripped down my face as I continued to sit stoically, running each excuse Leo made through my mind.
Why was it so easy for him to give up and leave me with three children and a pile of bills?
Although I could take care of my children and myself, it was much easier to have a partner to help with those things.
His message was selfish, self-centered, and .
. . cowardice. Yes, we did make a vow to wait until we were thirty-five to start having children, but my son came a little earlier than expected, and that bastard never asked me to get my tubes tied or get on birth control.
He kept cumming in me and acting as if there weren’t consequences behind the shit.
So many emotions were taking over me all at once, but the one I felt most was rage. I stood abruptly from the couch and hurried up the stairs. I went to our bedroom, went into our closet, and yanked his clothes from the hangers. I took them to our bathroom and tossed those shits in the tub.
All of his expensive watches, shoes, and suits went right inside with the rest of his funky-ass clothes.
I filled the tub, doused it with bleach, and gave it a good mix.
I snatched all our wedding photos scattered across the room and all our memorabilia, which were tossed into a trash bag, along with the wedding dress I was saving for Chloe or Carlee when they got older and decided to marry.
I wouldn’t let my babies get married in that cursed shit.
Tears streamed down my face the whole time I moved around that house.
Since I spent my hard-earned money on his anniversary gifts, I decided to give everything to my little brother.
Once I was done ridding myself of that bastard’s presence, I called Nora, but her phone went straight to voicemail.
I wouldn’t dare call my mother because, although sweet, she was slightly unhinged, and knowing that my husband just broke up with me on our anniversary through text would surely have her in a rage.
Maybe I should call her, because the way I was feeling, I was ready to set the whole house on fire.
How could he do this to me? I gave him everything and thirteen years of my life.
We created a life together. He seemed happy each time I got pregnant and never let on that things were different until after Carlee was born.
If he didn’t want a life with me, why would he string me along and break up with me through a fucking text?
Something inside of me switched. I officially hated him.
And while he thought he was getting off easily, I was going to make his life a living hell.