This routine of him disappearing went on for a month straight before I was at my breaking point. We would bicker back and forth. He would treat me mean, and I would go cold, not speaking to him for days at a time. I was starting to feel like a single parent and still didn't know the reason why. Holding on to our history was no longer serving me, especially when even my kids was questioning why daddy is suddenly so mean.
One night after my kids were sound asleep, I sat in my bed, lost in my thoughts about my marriage. When did we go from communicating to not? Is he really cheating on me? Is he really that upset about me working? The questions whirled in my head like a storm, and no matter how I tried, I couldn't find shelter from their unrelenting force.
If I knew what the problem was, then I would know what to do, but him not talking to me makes it impossible to figure out. I feel tears dropping from my face, and my emotions are out of control. My chest feels tight, and the loneliness of being in a marriage where I feel invisible eats at me. I grabbed my phone to check his location, something I had promised myself I wouldn't do again.
There it was-he was still at the bar/pool hall. He's been there for almost the last two hours. The green dot on the screen mocked me, sitting stationary, confirming he wasn't on his way home. I scrolled up through our texts, noting the three messages I sent him earlier that he didn't respond to but had read.
It wasn't like I hadn't tried. I'd asked him to come home earlier tonight, to talk, to reconnect, to try. My hands trembled as I tossed the phone aside. I sat in my bath and sipped my wine, letting the warmth of the water cocoon me, though it did nothing to stop the tears from falling. My emotions continued to flood, my thoughts spiraling.
Why did it feel like I was the only one fighting for this marriage?
The minutes turned into hours as I stared blankly at the wall. I called and texted him several more times, trying to keep my anger in check but failing. Each unanswered call was like a slap in the face, and each ignored text fueled the fire inside me. My desperation reached its peak when I sent him a message I knew I couldn't take back.
Wife: I want a divorce.
The moment I pressed send, my breath hitched. Regret washed over me almost instantly, mingling with the anger that had driven me to type those words. My phone vibrated in my hand three minutes later-his name flashing on the screen as he called me back, over and over.
But when I answered, his voice wasn't calm or understanding. He was yelling, his words incoherent and slurred from the alcohol. "What the fuck are you talking about, Crystal? A divorce? Are you out of your mind?"
I hung up, my hands trembling as his voice echoed in my ears. He called again, and again, and every time I answered, it was the same-rage, accusations, no room for me to explain or breathe. I finally put my phone on silent, tossing it to the side as I stood to run myself a hot bubble bath. The regret and fear churned inside me, threatening to swallow me whole.
What had I done?
I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the water as it filled, the bubbles rising higher and higher. I didn't hear his car pull up until the slam of the door echoed through the house. My heart jumped into my throat as I heard him moving quickly, his footsteps heavy and purposeful.
He came through the garage, his keys clinking against the counter, and I could hear him running up the stairs toward our bedroom. His voice cut through the silence like a knife.
"Crystal! Where are you? You didn't hear me calling your fucking name?"
I froze, my breath catching as the bathroom door flew open. He stood there, disheveled and furious, his chest heaving as he glared at me.
