Chapter 7 Audrey
Seven: Audrey
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Taylor Swift
The next week passes in a blur, Paul and I are like ships passing in the night. It almost feels like he's avoiding me.
Or maybe I’m avoiding him.
I stop cooking him dinner, turning the outside light on at night, and leaving the front door unlocked for him. I stop giving, and the worst part is he doesn’t even notice. Or care.
It’s like I mentally grieve the end of my relationship every day.
Then one day the end finally comes.
“I don’t think this is working.”
That's it, the words leave his mouth and the freight train crashes in slow motion.
A million thoughts fill my head but all I do is nod my head. “Okay.”
His head snaps in my direction in shock, as if he expected—or hoped—I’d have a bigger reaction. “Okay?”
I quickly move towards the bathroom, barely looking over my shoulder at him. “Please be gone by the time I get out.”
I lock the door behind me, trying to ignore the angry words he’s yelling at me through the door or the way he’s shaking the door handle. I clutch my phone tight in my hand, my fingers hovering above the numbers.
There’s no reason to call 9-1-1. You’re okay.
As he starts to lose steam, I count to one hundred and try to keep my breathing steady.
I hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs, and only when the front door slams do I allow myself the space to cry.
But the tears don’t come.
Instead, confusion fills me.
I go to work in a daze, trying to make sense of why I’m not more torn-up and why he was so angry when he was the one who made the choice.
I spend my morning moving through work tasks with complete disinterest, a cloud hanging over me.
I’m grateful that Selena has an appointment and isn’t around to see me out of sorts.
She would be analyzing my behavior for sure.
Nonetheless, It’s hard to ignore the texts coming from Paul in steady succession.
Paul: You’re not even going to fight for me? After all I’ve done for you?! All I’ve given you …
Paul: Jesus Audrey, I’m so disappointed in you. Your mother would be so disappointed in you too.
Paul: You’re ruining my day. Doesn’t that bother you at all? You didn’t even cry? I thought I was worth more than this. You’re really showing your true colors.
Paul: I don’t know why I stayed with you this long, you’re boring.
Paul: At least answer my texts … don’t be such a bitch!
Paul: I hope you rot in hell.
Paul: … Audrey, I didn’t mean it.
Paul: Answer me, you narcissist.
I read and reread his words.
Me? A narcissist?
I quickly open Google, typing “narcissist” into the search bar. Clicking through one website after another as words flash across the screen …
Gaslighting, criticizing, difficulty apologizing, anger, aggression—it’s like they’re doing a spotlight on Paul.
I half expect to find his picture online.
Is Paul a narcissist? Has he always been one and I’ve just put up with it?
Questions and memories flow through me as I blink back tears. Grabbing my purse from my desk I find my manager and inform her that I don’t feel well and I ask to leave. Thankfully, my pale tired face convinces her that going home is a good idea.
When I get home, Paul is sitting at the kitchen table with his dress shirt untucked from his pants, casually reading a newspaper, as if he’s completely unbothered by the fact he broke up with me this morning and then spammed me with aggressive texts.
“Paul. Goodness, you startled me,” I mumble with a jump, placing my hand over my rapidly beating heart. “Why are you home?”
He looks up at me with a guilty expression on his face. “Oh. Audrey.” He lets out a cough, narrowing his eyes. “I sometimes come home for lunch,” he tells me.
What?
“Since when?”
“About a year now.”
I stare at the man I barely know anymore. “Oh.”
How many other secrets has he been keeping from me?
He clears his throat. “So, listen …”
Catching a view of the countertop from the corner of my eye, two empty plates sit beside two empty cups. They weren’t here this morning. “Is there someone else here?” I cut him off as a sour taste fills my mouth. “Is she still here?
He follows my gaze to the plates, a defiant look in his eyes. “Not anymore. She just left.”
Reality comes crashing down in another wave.
“How long have you been cheating on me?”
He doesn’t try to lie, he answers me straight. “There’ve been a few people over the years.”
“Excuse me? A few?” I spit out. “Have they been in our house more than once?” Paul gives me an unapologetic smile that makes me want to vomit. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I exclaim, moving towards the stairs.
Have they had sex in our house? In our bed?
“Where are you going?” he asks with a dumbfounded expression.
Does he really expect me to stay?
“To pack my shit!”
He’s hot on my heels. “Why are you leaving? You have to see things from my side!”
I pause and turn towards him on the bottom step, my eyes level with his. “What side is that, hm? What could possibly have made you cheat?”
“Baseball.”
My eyebrows furrow. “What?” I barely watch it or talk about it with him, leaving that to my family and high school friends.
Maybe he knew about my feelings for Noah early on? But they stopped mattering long before any of this happened, so that doesn’t make sense.
“In the fall, you went to visit your family without me and you came back happier than ever.”
Seriously? That’s his reasoning?
“Yeah, because my brother’s team played in the World Series … it was literally his dream come true!” I shake my head. “I still don’t get what that has to do with anything?”
“You love baseball more than you love me.”
I let out an angry laugh, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well, duh! Right now, I think I love trash more than I love you … At least I wasn’t out fucking baseball bats. Nope, I was too busy making dinner for you every night, trying to ignore you coming home smelling like scotch and perfume.”
“Yeah, well …” His eyes scan the room as if he’s trying to come up with an excuse.
“When did you first cheat on me?” I demand.
He averts his gaze. “College.”
My whole body radiates anger. “Before or after we slept together?”
“Before.”
I’m so glad we’re doing this … I’m so nervous, Audrey … I love you, Audrey … I wouldn’t want to have my first time with anyone else … I’m sorry if it’s awkward …
It was all bullshit. All of it.
I stomp up a few more stairs before shouting, “You could have broken up with me like a fucking adult, instead of lying to me for most of our relationship!”
Our whole relationship was a fucking lie.
Paul looks as if that’s a revelation he hadn’t stopped to consider. “Look, we can figure something out … I still love you, Audrey.”
He’s giving me whiplash.
I stop moving, trying to keep my anger in check. “I don’t think we can, Paul.”
“What about an open relationship?” he says casually, as if he’s suggesting “let's add more salt to our fries,” not “let's add random people to the mix.”
Because that would definitely strengthen our failed relationship …
I want to throw up right now.
This is a joke, right?
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“No, we need to make this work. You need me,” He says matter-of-factly, as he steps closer to me.
I hate this hot and cold act.
Freezing, I realize that he’s always done this. He backs me into a corner and makes me the “issue,” even in situations where I’m right.
I won’t back down today.
“No, Paul. I don’t think I do.”
“Want. To. Rephrase. That?” His words are sharp. I know I’m in dangerous territory with him now, but I can’t help myself.
I look him dead in the eye and confidently say, “Sure. I know I don’t need you.”
His hand reaches for me with a firm grasp and I try to wiggle away from him. “Ouch, Paul. That hurts. Let go.”
His grip on my arm tightens and his eyes are black with rage. “You’ll always need me, Audrey. You’ll never find someone better than me.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, realizing that he’s spent the better part of our relationship telling me that he’s the best I can have and that no one would ever “put up with me.”
But in this moment right here, I realize that I’ve deserved better for a long time and that I don’t need to be a shell of a person to make someone else happy.
“I’m leaving,” I respond coldly, glaring at him.
“You don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you! We’re done when I say we’re done!” I tug harder out of his hold, scared now. He pulls me back towards him, his breath hot against my face.
“Let go,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to hide my fear.
“No. Not until you admit that I’m not the bad guy. You did this to yourself.” He wrenches me closer with a determined look in his eyes. He’s desperate to regain control of this situation, but I can’t let him. “You’re the problem, Audrey. You’ve always been the problem.”
He pushes me away from him with more force than he’s ever shown me. My ankle rolls over itself and the side of my face lands against the banister with an echoing smack. My back lands hard against the staircase. Shooting pain fills my cheek instantly while I clutch the banister.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
He lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re so clumsy. Stand up.”
I blink back tears as I stand up, scrambling away from him as blood trickles down my cheek, my back stiff.
“Shit. Audrey, come on, pay attention. You have to be more careful. Don’t overreact.” His footsteps move away from me. “Let me get you ice. It’s probably nothing.”
“No—Get. Out. You don’t get to play the hero right now. I’m done.” I wipe the blood away as I climb up the stairs as quickly as I can, pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing before he can stop me.
I’m so fucking done.