24. Dallas
DALLAS
FIVE MONTHS EARLIER
“You are never going to leave me. How would you even support them without my help? Who pays for this house? Your only work history is being a bartender.”
My knife slides through the skin of the red onion. Matt came home in a piss-poor mood, and I made the mistake of asking him why I found his wedding ring at the bottom of his gym bag.
He goes to the gym for hours almost every single night. He is in decent shape, but four hours is excessive for anyone to work out. A few days ago, I noticed he wasn’t wearing his ring anymore.
“So, are you saying that you are cheating on me? You’re admitting it?”
I try to appear relaxed, but I’m on edge.
I hope to God he admits it. Then I can leave, and I don’t have to be the bad guy.
If he’s the cheater, it’ll be easier to explain why I wanted a divorce.
No one accepts emotional abuse as a good enough reason, not really.
They’ll act like it was selfish on my part to “break apart” my family just because he wasn’t “perfect” all the time.
Or they just won’t believe me at all. They’ll say I’m exaggerating and whisper about how I was probably nagging him all the time, driving him crazy. Somehow, it’s easier for everyone to blame the woman.
It’s easier to believe that I’m a liar than it is to accept that he’s actually that cruel to someone he claims to love, the woman who bore his children.
“No, I’m not saying that. I’m asking you to do what Pastor Brent said and focus on your circle. You remember your circle, don’t you? If you keep pointing fingers at me, I have to do the same, and then nothing can get better.”
A wave of guilt and nausea rolls over me.
We have the same conversation over and over again, day in and day out.
And it always ends with him telling me that the real issue with our marriage is that I’m far too critical, and until I can work on myself, he’s not changing anything.
And he loves to use the six-week marriage course we took at a local church to back himself up.
“I’m just saying that if you keep being mean to me, making threats, and just disappearing all the fucking time with no explanation, I will leave you. I will get a divorce. I will figure out how to make it on my own. I’m alone all the time anyway.”
“But you won’t have my check paying your bills, will you?”
I grab the antique white pitcher from the open shelving and start filling it with water. It was my grandmother’s, and she gave it to me when I married Matt. I start watering my pothos plant on the shelf near the window.
“I can’t do this anymore. If you really expect me to just accept you going off without your wedding ring and no explanation of where you are while I’m home with the boys, I’m done. That’s not a marriage, not one I want to be a part of anyway.”
He comes up behind me, grabs the pitcher, and slams it on the ground. Water and shards of pottery coat my feet. The boys quiet down from their playful chatter while they build train tracks.
I barely have time to react when Matt grabs me and slams my body up against the back door. He looms over me, his beer breath warming my face.
“Do you remember that time I put my hands around your neck?”
Cold fear coats my throat. I nod, words escaping me.
“Well, if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop being such a cunt, I’m going to do it again.
And this time, I’m not going to stop until you’re not breathing anymore.
Then I’ll take your body out to Route 56, and I’ll find an empty field and bury you where no one will ever think to look. How does that sound?”
I swallow, trying to form coherent thoughts as my body locks up and my mind blurs. I can’t think straight. It’s like his words aren’t registering in my brain.
He’s telling me his murder plans.
He doesn’t mean it though, right?
It’s just another threat, an empty one.
But there was that time he strangled me. I’d made him angry. I don’t remember how, but I was driving because he had been drinking. The boys were in the back seat. They were so little; they were still rear facing.
Matt latched on to my neck from the passenger seat and squeezed until I was gasping for oxygen.
I almost forgot it’d happened until now. My memory over the last few years has gaps in it. I’m starting to think my mind does it to protect me. Even with what’s happening now, it feels like I’m floating outside my own body, watching what’s happening from a different point of view.
I blink up at him. He glares down at me with his empty, dark eyes. I wait on him to make the next move. Finally, he steps back, shaking his head.
My body moves on its own. I go to the boys, checking to see if they’re okay. They’re playing with the trains, but they’re noticeably quieter. They don’t know exactly what’s happening, but they’re old enough to sense something is wrong.
Dutton clings to me, so I pick him up and grab Dawson’s hand. Matt disappears into our bedroom.
I take them out to my car and buckle them both in. It’s chilly, but not too cold out. I leave the engine off.
I go back inside, leaning my ear up against the door to the bedroom. The shower is running, so I risk twisting the knob gently and sneaking in to get the duffel bag I have hidden in the closet underneath my hanging jeans. He’s in the shower, so I quickly grab the bag and a pair of shoes.
He must hear the door because he calls my name out as I’m exiting.
I don’t answer. I hurry back out to the carport and open the trunk, throwing the bag in. I’m shutting it when he comes out the side door with a towel wrapped around his waist. His skin is still wet.
“Where do you think you’re going with my sons?”
“We’re just going to go visit my friend. We need a night apart.”
“You think you can just leave me? You actually think that’s about to happen right now?” He slams his hand against the hood of my car.
I jump, reaching for the driver’s door while pulling my phone out of my pocket with my other hand.
“I’m not leaving you. I feel like we would both benefit from having some time to think and reset before we talk this out.”
He grits his teeth, stepping closer to me. “Get your ass back in that fucking house before I burn it to the ground.” His voice is sharp with pure venom.
I tap my phone screen, going to my most recent call history. I select my dad’s name with shaky fingers.
I stare at Matt as the ring fills the silence.
“Hello?” my father answers, thankfully.
“Hey, Dad. I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving to go stay with my friend for the night. And Matt won’t let me.”
Matt’s eyes blaze.
“What? What’s going on?” my father says, concern etched in his voice.
“Sir, I truly don’t know what’s gotten into your daughter. We had a little disagreement, and she’s trying to run off. She’s honestly scaring me with the way she’s acting, and I don’t know if the boys will be safe with her.”
I gape at the change in his tone. He sounds calm and reasonable, a little embarrassed by me even.
“Dallas, why are you leaving? Haven’t you two been in counseling?”
I blow out an exhale, trying to remain calm when all I want to do is scream and run.
“I just think we need some time to cool off before we keep talking about this. Things got a little heated, and I want to take a break from the arguing. I’ll be back in the morning to talk it out.”
He shakes his head, trying to tell me to stop, but I know if I don’t leave now, I might never get the chance to.
“Well, that sounds reasonable, doesn’t it, son? Having a plan set in motion while you separate to pray about things isn’t a bad idea.”
Matt knows he can’t argue with that. “I just think she can calm down here, at home. We don’t have to talk it out.”
I yank open the door and jump inside, hitting the lock button.
“I’m just going to my friend’s house. I’ll call you tomorrow, Dad. I’m leaving now.”
“Let me know when you get there. We’re having company, so I have to go.”
“Okay, bye!” I try to infuse some enthusiasm into my voice so that he thinks I’m okay.
I start reversing the car. Matt watches me, his expression cold and unmoving until he’s out of sight and I’m driving on the road.
“Mommy, I hungry!” one of the boys says.
I mindlessly hand them each a bag of crackers I had the forethought to always keep in my purse for emergencies. It quiets them down enough for me to navigate to Jo’s contact in my phone.
She’s my only local friend I can think of to reach out to.
I could call Rosie, but she has two kids of her own and doesn’t need my mess right now.
Ever since Jo and I became friends, she’s seemed to dislike my husband.
She even asked me once if I ever thought about divorce.
It felt strange at the time, but now I’m wondering if she sensed something no one else has.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Jo, hi.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if my kids and I could come over and sleep on your floor tonight.”
I hold my breath. Jo lives in a tiny apartment with a roommate.
“Yeah, sure. Come on over.”
“On our way now.”
“Cool.”
I hang up the phone and turn to face the boys.
“Who wants to have a sleepover at Auntie Jo’s house?”
“Meeee!” they squeal in unison.
We pull up thirty minutes later. I unload the one bag we have, which I’m so thankful I already packed.
Jo meets us in the parking garage, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. She has no makeup on and looks like she’s been having a chill, lazy day, which makes me instantly feel guilty.
“Sorry, did we crash your Friday?”
She shakes her head. “No way. I’m glad y’all came over. You boys want some pizza?”
“Pizzaaa!”
They start running around in circles, blissfully unaware of why we’re here—to stay the night even though we don’t have beds to sleep in.
We follow her through the maze of the gray apartment building. The halls are all outside, with black railing overlooking the landscaping and the pool below.
“Mommy, we swim?” Dawson asks, pointing at the pool.
“Not right now, buddy. Maybe another day.”
We make it to her apartment, and she uses her key fob to open the door. I’m eternally grateful that my husband has never been here because getting through this maze would be impossible for someone who’s never been guided through.
The interior of Jo’s apartment smells like a mix of pizza and an apple pie candle.
Her gray cat immediately jumps up on the counter, curious about the newcomers.
Her dog is a mini black-and-brown Aussie, wagging her tail happily at the boys.
The apartment has a modern, upgraded decor style with sleek black countertops and white hexagon-tiled flooring.
Her new roommate is lounging on the sofa, her curly blond hair up in a messy bun. She smiles at me and waves. “Hey, I’m Len. Nice to meet you.”
“Dallas. This is Dawson and Dutton. Sorry to crash your chill weekend.”
She shrugs. “You’re not bothering me. Pizza? It’s cold, but we could microwave it.”
The boys run up to her, and she offers them each a slice.
“Y’all come sit at the table.”
They each carefully carry the food over to the small breakfast nook table and sit.
Hours later, I’m lying on the pallet we made on the floor in the living room. Down here on the ground, it smells faintly like dog hair. But I don’t care.
All I can think about is how I’ll never in my life sleep under the same roof as my monster of a husband ever again.