Six
Sarah
One and a half weeks ago
Ipulled into my mother-in-law’s driveway like Cruella Deville, tires screeching over the asphalt.
My temper glowed as red as my hair, and this time, I wasn’t going to toss water on it for anyone. Not Peter. Not Cal. And certainly not Lynn. They all asked for it.
I threw my Subaru into park before I’d even come to a complete stop, which was probably terrible for the transmission, but I didn’t care.
Yanking open the door, the crisp autumn breeze whipped through my loose curls and my navy scrubs scratched against my torso, heightening my need to put a fist through the wall.
But I couldn’t damage my hands since they were the only ones putting dinner on the table while Peter cried to mommy every damn day.
Boundaries existed for a reason, and this was the fourth time Lynn had obliterated them this week.
Storming up to the front stoop, I pounded my fist against the door three times, hiding my grimace when my bones rattled. I’d been a part of this family for years. I could’ve just gone inside. But I wanted Lynn to know the tone of my visit.
The house was quiet long enough that I lifted my hand to bang again, but the stained wooden door swung inward, revealing Lynn’s worried face. “Sarah!”
“Why is Peter here?” I blurted.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Well—he called me and I—”
“Where is he?” I pushed over the threshold, and she stepped aside, clearing my path.
I saw him before she answered. He was under a blanket, sleeping on the couch. Sleeping was his only respite. Rage warred in my heart, sending a hot tremble through my body. I wanted to throttle him. He knew this wasn’t the way.
I whipped around to face Lynn and hissed, “Why are you letting this happen?”
“Sarah, I’m sorry. He called me. He was upset and afraid and I couldn’t tell him no.”
“You have to tell him no, Lynn. We’ve had this conversation.”
Her throat pulled as she gave a hard swallow. “I tried.”
“You don’t understand,” I seethed. “Every single moment of my life is about helping him come to terms with the way things are. If you coddle him every time he has a hard day, he will never find peace.”
She nodded and a tear trickled down her cheek. I wanted to feel for her, but I didn’t have the energy. For nearly two years, my emotional strength had funneled through a drain, my reserves dangerously close to bone dry. Whatever I could muster up was for Peter alone.
My own body was under siege—I’d lost weight, lost sleep, and almost lost my identity in this losing battle for my husband. But the determination that had carried me for so many months quaked.
“He’s my son. When he calls me, I…” She shook her head at herself then whispered. “He sounds like the boy in the hospital room all over again.”
“Then don’t pick up his call.” I ground out the words. “Don’t even talk to him.”
Lynn pleaded, “But he needs his mom.”
“No, Lynn. He needs reality.” I shook my head, so outraged I could hardly breathe. “Every time you intervene, you set us back. Peter has a routine and a life he’s supposed to be living. You cannot swoop in and save him.”
A loud sigh came from the couch. I whipped around as Peter threw an arm over his eyes. He was awake.
I should’ve moved toward him and gently swept his chocolate curls off his brow or kissed his scruffy cheek.
I should’ve let him know that I was on his team.
But months of rejection overpowered my kindness, and I was sick of my quick forgiveness being exploited in the name of generosity.
Every day, it got harder to reach out to him as resentment simmered in my heart.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I barked. “It’s time to go.”
He didn’t move.
“Peter, come on. I’m hungry and want to go home.”
He stared up at the ceiling and sighed again, the breath laced with so much sadness. The man I loved was a shell—barely hanging on. I wanted to be gentle, but the well of my compassion was bone dry after watching him wallow for so long.
I pulled a breath through gritted teeth, trying to slow my heart rate. “Let’s get take out and go home.”
He sat up, but didn’t stand. Dropping his forehead into his palms, he weaved his fingers through the top of his unruly hair and murmured, “I already ate.”
Of course he did.
“Well,” I clicked my tongue. “I’m about to eat my arm because I didn’t have time to take lunch today.”
“So go then. No one’s stopping you.”
I set my jaw. “Get. Up.”
Finally, he released his hair and looked up. He turned his head toward the doorway where his mother stood, but the sparkle that made his brown eyes glow with flecks of gold was nowhere to be found. “Mom, can you give us a second?”
“Of course.” She scurried from the living room.
When a door shut down the hallway, he began. “I don’t want to go home with you.”
“What?” I scoffed.
He braced his elbows on his knees and stared down at his hands. “I…I think we need a break.”
My feet instinctively stepped back as his words hit my brain.
A break?
“What do you mean?”
He sighed again as if talking required too much energy. “I need some space.”
“From me?”
“Yeah.” His face held no apology. Just cold, hard facts of life.
A stinging sensation moved to my cheeks like someone slapped me. “Why?”
He had the audacity to actually chuckle. “If you’re still asking that question, it just proves, once again, that you haven’t listened to a damn word I’ve said.”
“Stop it, Peter. You know that’s not true. All I do is listen to you whine and bellyache—”
“And then berate me constantly for it.”
I scoffed. “I do not berate you!”
He shook his head. “So what is it that you do every night when you come home? Because all I hear is that I should be further along than I am. That I should be living life the way you think is best. But I don’t know how to be better.”
“I’m trying to inspire you to do something with your time.”
“It’s obviously not inspiring to me, Sarah.”
“So that’s why you run here every day? Seriously? To escape the lunatic who just wants the best for you?”
He squeezed his hands together, his jaw feathering.
I bit out words, placing a hand over my heart. “If that’s case, let me apologize for asking you to get your ass off the couch. Please forgive me for being so terrible to you.”
I knew I needed to stop, but my heart spewed pain.
How could he say he needed space from me when all I had done was serve him?
Since the day of the accident, my needs had completely vanished off his radar, and my entire life became caretaking.
I knew he’d been through hard things, but this was hard for me too.
Of course, Peter couldn’t acknowledge that though.
The pain of being overlooked time after time after time was strangling me.
I couldn’t bear it anymore.
I missed the old Peter so much I could hardly breathe.
And even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I couldn’t stand the new Peter. This Peter poured salt in my wounds while licking his own, and I was starting to hate him for it. A part of me wondered what it would be like to leave and let him figure out his life on his own.
But my heart was so entwined with Peter’s that I was scared of what would happen if I tried to untangle them. I would stay and take care of him, no matter how many times he hurt me, because that seemed safer than walking away.
Yet this dynamic—me caretaking while he withered—made me frantic to escape.
The momentum of our fight lagged. I prodded him. “So, what? You’re not going to accept my apology?”
He rolled his eyes, shook his head. “You’re not in the headspace to apologize and you know it.”
My teeth clenched at his insinuation that he needed an apology from me. As if I was in the wrong by advocating for him.
“Why don’t you go home? We’ll try to talk again when both of us have calmed down.” His levelheadedness pissed me off sometimes. Why wouldn’t he just fight with me on occasion?
“I’m calm!”
“Sarah—”
“I’m serious. This is the calmest you’ll ever have me. So I vote we go home and argue so loud that the neighbors call the police and then have even louder make up sex. Doesn’t that sound fun?.” I reached down and tugged on his hand. “Let’s go!”
Peter stood off the couch, but his hands curled around my wrists, capturing them by his chest so I couldn’t pull away. “Sarah, listen to me.” He took a hard swallow. “If you think what’s going on in our marriage has nothing to do with you, you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.”
“You sound insane. None of this is my fault.”
He puffed a breath of disbelief. “But not all of it is my fault either.”
“Yes, it is, Peter. If you would just stop feeling sorry for yourself, all of this would go away. It would disappear overnight.”
“But I can’t just snap out of it.”
“That’s the biggest load of bullshit. It’s just an excuse to not have to try.” I tried to pull my arms away, but he held me tighter.
“You don’t think I’m trying, Sarah?” His voice broke a little. “I’m so exhausted. Most days, it takes everything I have to just keep breathing. This is as good as it’s going to be for a while. Maybe even forever. And if you can’t be patient with me while I struggle, then leave.”
Patient while he struggles.
The temptation to slap him twitched in my palm.
My eyes flicked to the ring on my finger. The one I waited years for. I’d done my time with patience, and for him to suggest otherwise proved how out of touch he was.
“Peter Thompson.” I spoke through clenched teeth, cursing the tears welling in my eyes. “I wish you could see how that hurt me.”
He gave a bitter huff. “Well, I can’t.”
“I know. And that’s the problem.” When I jerked my hands, he let go and the sudden release caused me to stumble backward a step. With emotion gathering in my throat, I croaked. “Hang out with Mommy. I’ll be here to get you in the morning.”
And without a backward glance, I beelined for the front door.