The Wife Draft (Peterick)

Pittsburgh: The Letter

Joe had already left work, so I set my resignation letter on his desk. I couldn't do the job anymore.

I told Patrick that he should go. Go call the number on the card and become what he wanted his entire life.

He cried. He called me crazy. He threw his book at me. He thought I wanted a family with him. He thought I loved him. The look of betrayal on his face was too much for me to handle.

I broke down in tears, collapsing in front of him. I set my forehead against his knees, risking getting kicked for my need to be close to him.

I told him that I did, in fact, love him. I loved him so much that I needed to let him go.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth.

When I awoke from my dream, Patrick was asleep next to me. Our fingers were loosely laced together between us.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and sighed.

The resignation letter was still in my desk. I would give it to Joe before work today. I would break up with my husband after work.

I had been hiding the truth from Patrick for twelve hours.

I knew that if I moved, Patrick would stir. The last thing I wanted to do was wake him up. He would ask what was wrong and all his sweetness would make me cry.

Breaking his heart was better than completely breaking him down.

*****

I placed my letter on Joe's desk when he went out for lunch. I left the office five hours early and went home.

Elliot was at school. Patrick was at home with a belt buckle and no trace of makeup. I was glad to see him. I didn't want to make his mascara run.

Patrick and I stared at each other from opposite ends of the living room. Patrick looked expectant. I knew I was supposed to kiss him and explain why I was home early. But when I sat down on the couch next to him, I didn't go in to kiss his sweet lips.

My ice was melting, and my whiskey was stale. My pen was out of ink, and my paper was shredded.

"You should go to New York," I said, avoiding his eyes. "You deserve to be happy."

"Peter, what ah---"

"Patrick, I don't love you." The lie tasted disgusting on my tongue. "You should go be the musician you dreamed of being. Get out of here."

Patrick was stunned. He didn't say anything. He just stared at me with his lips parted and eyes filled with tears.

I was expecting the slap to the face. I was expecting him to growl that he fucking hated me. I was expecting for our bedroom door to slam and wailing to be heard on the other side.

I just sat on the couch, completely numb. Patrick had enough money in his purse to fly to New York and rent a place for two months. I slipped the cash in his wallet last night.

It took me an hour to force myself to stand. I unfolded the envelope that I had been hiding in my pocket for the past day. I dropped it on the coffee table and stalked off into the kitchen. I leaned against the sink and stared down at the dishes until a tear finally dropped.

I was in a full fit of tears when I heard the floor creak behind me. I turned to see Patrick, holding the envelope I abandoned in his shaking hands.

"No," Patrick whispered. "Please tell me it's all a lie."

"I love you, Patrick," I cried. "I'm so fucking sorry."