Walking On Eggshells
Things are bad. They've been more dramatic and certainly more dangerous for me in the past, but now we're at a place in our withering marriage that leaves me walking on all-new eggshells. Tonight he decided to start sleeping in separate rooms permanently. It started with me allegedly interupting him. He'd made this self righteous, calloused, judgmental statement--obviously out of ignorance. After silence fell between us, and a few moments of contemplation on my part, I replied, "Anyone whose ever nursed a warm, cranky baby under a blanket in 90-plus degree weather might disagree with you that it's not too much trouble to cover up in public." I said it quietly, with what I thought was a fairly benign tone. While I was saying it, he tried to interrupt, but I was determined to finish, so I kept right on saying it. It hadn't been an argument or anything. I heard what he had to say and I disagreed out loud--god forbid. We had just pulled up to the gas pump, so he got out and slammed the car door really hard, and I could hear the anger in his voice as he was muttering to himself, while he filled the car. I could hear him, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. When he got back into the car I said, "you had some things to say to me while you were out there. Would you like to share them with me?" He needed a reason to be angry--any reason he might get away with--so he fell back on the usual, "I don't like the way you treat me." followed by the typical, "you interupted me," and "I can't get a word in edge-wise." Funny how he always accuses me of doing to him, exactly what it is that he does to me. When he cheats on me he accuses me of infidelity. When he is cruel to me, he calls me an "unmitigated bitch" or some such thing. We drove in silence to Walmart, where we were supposed to get stuff for the kids' lunches and oil for the car. We were heading toward the automotive isles in stony silence when he blew out his breath explosively and shoved the cart into the shelves, knocking things off the shelf, and began to storm out. "Where are you going?" I pleaded, but he didn't answer. I called out, "Mike, I don't even know where we're parked." He turned around and said something under his breath, but I couldn't make it out, so I said "What? What?" and he just turned and left me there to pick up his mess and have a humiliating public cry. I shopped for the kids' lunches, but I didn't know what kind of oil to get, so I text messaged him to ask which kind and whether I would have to walk home with the groceries (We live way out near Mapleton). He didn't answer, but as I was finishing up, he showed up and slammed two bottles of oil in the cart, smashing the bread. The rest of the day was an excersize in suffering his hostile silence and deciphering his angry mutterings. After I got the kids to bed, I got ready for bed myself and started trying to wind down to Food Network and TV Land. Later I heard all the usual sounds downstairs that would indicate that he was on his way to bed, including his heavy footsteps on the stairs, but he never came in. After a while I got up and went to find him. He was in Cassie's bed with the lights out. Cass continues to sleep in the boys' room on the trundle, even though I keep telling her she's too old to share a room with them any longer (poor Wendy-girl). I flipped the light on and he got up on one elbow and jsut stared at me hard. I said, as gently as I could while trying to hold back so many tears, "Is this what you really want?" "Yes!" "You realize, don't you, that once you take this step, there's probably no going back?" He announces that we don't have a real marriage anymore. No fucking kidding! I told him that it's taken him long enough to figure that out--all those years of neglect, abuse, cheating, lies, and manipulation, and all the time telling people we were still honeymooners. He was in complete denial and I was hurting and confused. I tell him this, so of course he counters by accusing me of giving up on our marriage a year ago. I told him I hadn't given up, that even at this moment I'm still working harder on our marriage than anybody ought to have to, but that I started seriously losing hope a couple years ago when he strangeled me into unconsciousness, thus winning that day's argument. So of course he blurts out that I've slept with more men than April, his slutty ex girlfriend, and I tell him that if he were ever honest about it, his stats would top mine and April's put together. I also told him that at least I didn't begin eighteen years of marriage with a lie like he did. He told me he was a virgin and for over a decade would go on and on about it, saying things like, "I'm so glad I waited for you. I'm so glad you're the first and only woman I've ever been with," etc. Anyway, he called me ugly names and then he jumped out of bed and chased me back to our room with his fist raised and ready to crush me. I slammed the door behind me and crawled into bed where I cried myself into a fitful sleep. I'm so ready for this to be over, but these new eggshells I'm walking on are far worse than the ones that once lay between me and my death. If this is it--if he is going to end this marriage in some way other than homicide--then I stand to lose my children. Ironically, my children are the only reason I've put up with this so long. I'm really scared.