Fifteen #2
“He came to pick you guys up.” With everything she said, patches of lost memory returned—Cooper cussing me out when I opened the truck door to puke, him slamming his breaks and yanking the wheel to the shoulder of the road, a thump from the truck bed as bodies shifted around.
“But Harlan told Cooper what happened and Cooper told me because, apparently, Cooper is the only one who respects the fact that you are a married man and thought his wife deserved to know the truth.” She was yelling now, her volume hitting my pulsing head like cymbals between my ears.
“He said you…that you…I can’t even say it! ” Her voice broke.
“What, Sarah?” My desperation matched hers.
Tears muddled her words. “You—seriously don’t remember?”
“No! I’ve told you that!”
“You kissed someone, Peter.”
Her words hit me like a cup of ice water to the face. “What?”
“Yes—” She gasped for breath. “Cody saw the whole thing—how could you, Peter? How could you?!” A cry broke through Sarah’s lips and something ricocheted off the far wall then bounced along the floor.
Silence fell over us like a weighted blanket, heavy and suffocating, interrupted by nothing but her heaving breaths. When I realized I was holding my breath, I tried to inhale. And the oxygen entered my lungs like shards of glass.
I rasped, “Is that what Cooper told you?”
“Yeah.”
I hung my head again, squeezing the top of my hair as my shoulders collapsed in defeat. We had already endured so much, too much. We were already hanging by a thread. We had already been pushed past the limit. If my marriage ever recovered from this, it would be a miracle.
Or maybe this was the severance we were both waiting for.
“Do you seriously have nothing to say?” Her shattered voice sliced my chest open.
“I…I don’t know, Sarah. I must’ve gotten so drunk that…” Damn. I’d never been more humiliated in front of my wife. “That I lost control. I hardly remember any of it. Especially not kissing someone—that seems so extreme.”
After a few beats of quiet, she spoke. “You know, last night at the restaurant, you said you needed some space to decide if you even want this marriage.” She puffed a breath in disbelief. “Is this what you plan on doing to figure it out?”
“No. What I said had nothing to do with what happened last night.”
“You sure? It seems too convenient.”
“Yes. I never meant for any of that to happen.”
“You know, I have sacrificed a lot for you. I hope you realize that. I go out and break my wrists every day only to come home to a filthy house and a distant, pissed-at-the-world husband who acts like I’m the problem in his life.
I’ve been begging you to do something—anything—with me for months.
Months, Peter. And the first time—” Her voice choked off.
“The first time you decide to give the outside world a chance, we have ten phone numbers and cheating to show for it.”
Cheating?
That sounded so premeditated, so purposeful. The word tore my soul to pieces in my chest as I struggled to keep my head on straight and my temper at bay. “I never set out to cheat on you. I wouldn’t do that!”
“But you did, Peter!”
I scrubbed my hands over my face then clenched my fists against my forehead, denying the urge to lash out.
If I could only jump back into my head and sort out my thoughts at those exact moments, maybe I could form a defensible argument.
But this—being blasted for moments I had no recollection of—didn’t feel like a fair trial.
“What do you want me to do, Sarah? I can’t rewind time or take it back. I would if I could. I’m sorry. I had no idea what I was doing.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I’m supposed to sleep easy because you didn’t mean to kiss someone only hours after telling me you don’t want to be married anymore?”
“I didn’t say those exact words.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be a husband.’ And then you proceed to go out and kiss someone else when I have wanted you”—her tone came suddenly unglued—“to kiss me for so long. I literally crawled on top of you and kissed you the other night and you got angry at me. What conclusions am I supposed to draw?”
Her words twisted a dagger in my ribs. I choked, “That’s not how it was—”
“Stop, Peter. Just stop it. It’s too late.
It’s too damn late. I’m done begging you to love me.
I’m done coercing you to live again. I’m done being your waitress and your cheerleader and your caretaker.
I’m done putting my life on hold for you—again.
I cannot spend more years of my life waiting for you to wake up. ”
Gathering up the last of my pride, I shot back.
“Good. I don’t want you to put your life on hold anymore.
” My voice rumbled with rage as I threw out words I wasn’t even sure I meant.
“I want you to leave me alone and find someone else. Go have everything you want and stop nagging me to be someone I can’t be. ”
“You know what? Fine. I never signed up for this anyway.” She stomped toward the door.
Pulling myself off the couch, I followed her. “Signed up for this? What is that supposed to mean?”
She whirled back, nearly screaming now, slinging her words like a wrecking ball.
“It means I never signed up to have a handicapped husband. To be a caretaker to someone who has completely given up on life.” My feet faltered in shock as she continued dumping venom into the fifth wheel.
“If I had known this was in our future, I would’ve walked away when you asked me to give back the ring. ”
I blinked, and my exhale scorched my throat. How…how could she even say that?
So she would give up all the good things we’d shared just because I was blind now? Because of something completely outside my control? A huge lump rose in my throat and I cursed it, trying to force it back where it belonged. My hands shook uncontrollably as I wrapped my hurt in a cloak of anger.
Through clenched teeth, I hissed. “If I had known you would cast me off the moment I stopped making your dreams come true, I never would’ve given you a ring in the first place.”
Thick silence hung over us.
Until her feet moved toward me.
Three purposeful steps.
One, two, three.
Before I could register her arm swinging through the air, a sharp smack filled the room as her hand landed on my face.
Sucking air into my lungs, I stumbled back, struggling to keep my balance.
Stinging moisture welled in my eyes and blood rushed to the surface of my skin.
Too stunned to speak, I grabbed my cheek, warmth blooming into the palm of my hand.
Sarah hit me.
Tears had caught up to her, full force now, her voice peppered with them.
“You have no right to say that about me. Because you know as well as I do that it’s a lie.
” Her inhale trembled. “But, if you regret giving me a ring so much…” She paused.
“Then here.” She stepped forward and grabbed my hand, thunking her warm wedding ring into my palm. “Take it back.”
My fingers curled around the metal.
“If all this was a ploy to push me away, then congratulations, your evil genius worked. I hope being alone is everything you dreamed it would be.” Her words came through gritted teeth, dripping blood. “I’ve already packed my bag and I’m leaving.”
She turned toward the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Home!” She said it as if the question was stupid.
“The only place I have to go is our tiny little house in Aurora. And since I’m the one paying our mortgage, that is where I will be living.
Once you hitchhike or catch a plane back to Colorado, you can move back in with your parents, I guess.
I’ll box up all your shit and put it in your parents’ garage. ”
Regret and rage filled my mouth like a gag. I fisted the stupid ring, denying the urge to chuck it against a wall.
“You know, I’m sure losing your sight sucks. But the most tragic thing the accident took from us is you. Not your eyesight, Peter. You.”
Car keys jangled as Sarah swiped them off the counter and she opened the door, letting the warm breeze whip through the fifth wheel.
“By the way, Ally from Hearth and Hound sent you a tit pic. Jokes on her though, I guess.” Her voice lost its fire, another cry cresting in her throat. “Don’t call me, Peter. Just—don’t.”
Then she slammed the door.