Everything changed so furtively, it was a gradual and slow transformation that was irreversible by the time I realised it was happening.
But still I tried to save us.
I can, though, recall the day I first noticed.
You were sat in the brown, beat-up leather armchair, tired and old, inherited from my grandparents. You hated it because the arms were worn and tattered and said it looked shabby.
The very reason I loved it.
That day, we had about thirty quid left between us and Christopher desperately needed new school shoes. Rising sharply from the chair you so despised, you informed me you were going out for a while. You did not mention where, I knew better than to ask. You took all our money, greedily scooping it into your coat pocket without a single thought for anyone else. My heart sank as you blithely walked past Christopher's scuffed shoes, with their paper thin soles and holes in the heel.
"Wait!" I blurted out in desperation, my fists clenched into white balls of furry at my sides.
You didn't look back.
I let you leave. I let Christopher down.
The little things I began to notice, they hurt the most.
Your selfish and uncaring attitude I would try to write-off as a bad mood or a bad day but there is only so much slack you can cut before you look like a doormat. Progressively you became a liar and a bully, nothing resembling the man I fell deeply in love with six years earlier.
I was stuck with you.
Sunday lunch, and we went to a restaurant with the youngest children. You were talking too loudly and I could see your inappropriate choice of words grating on the other diners. The waitress took our order and looked embarrassed for me - lucky, I did not dare show any embarrassment myself. Chewing overloaded forkfuls with your mouth agape I seethed at your arrogance. My food was cold and inedible by the time I had fed Matthew his milk and helped Daniel with his meal.
I was not bothered, I'd lost my appettite.
Do you remember how you proposed on Christmas day?
For a few hours I could almost see glimpses of the old you and I was overwhelmed with hope.
I don't know why I said yes. It made no sense. I wanted out, not in for a lifetime of misery and hurt. By then, I didn't love you either. Maybe I just hadn't given up on the idea of 'us', maybe I believed that no one else would want me, maybe, just for a brief moment, I wanted things the way the used to be.
How many times since have you thrown that ring back in my face?
You always got so cruel when you drank. You got wasted at Laura's party, and saw me laughing, enjoying myself. It had been so long since I had been me. Grabbing my arm at the elbow you dragged me into the hallway and slurred that you never intended to marry me, you just asked me to make me shut the fuck up.
When you saw my face crumple in pain at hearing your rejection, you laughed. I threw my drink over you, a reaction that I think even shocked myself. Quick as lightning you spat in my face and slapped me hard across the cheek, leaving a red welt.
I left early, to avoid awkward questions. Foolishly, I always protected you.
Would it surprise you to know, I didn't go straight home that night?
After you put me in the taxi, having informed the driver of our address in a shambolic display of faked affection and forged concern, I told him to take me into town instead. It was that easy.
It had always been that easy.
Saturday night and the streets were heaving. Girls in short skirts of metallic fabric and shoes decorated with glitter and glass beads tripped along the pavement in giggling groups as loud drunken gangs of men in shiny black shoes and smartly pressed shirts pretended not to notice. The buildings were lit with neon signs in gaudy fluorescent colours and music spilled from each doorway, base lines vibrating up through the ground.
It made me feel alive.
Even if I didn't have you, I don't think I'd like drinking in these bars and clubs. Part of me has outgrown that kind of entertainment. Besides, I had enough drama at home I craved sedation. But I at least wanted the choice.
That is the point I decided we were over. Although it took many months to actually leave.
Despite knowing you didn't love me, I always imagined you'd put up a fight. I used to dread barricaded doors and windows and threats of violence and self harm.
Funny, I think my last stand scared you a thousand times more than you have ever scared me.
And for the first time in almost seven years I realised you were a coward.
Pathetic and spineless.
What sick twist of fate made you beg me to stay?
How I wanted to laugh back in your face but I always had more self respect and dignity than you ever possessed.
Clutching all I owned, all I wanted to take, I shut the door on you, us, our life together. Walking down the path towards my car, our children waiting patiently, so quiet, so relieved, I was finally moving forward. My life had come to a standstill when I met you. I thought we could grow together, I wanted it so much I ached for it. But we only succeed in growing apart.
I do not miss 'us'. 'Us' died a long time ago. Sometimes, in quite moments, I miss you but not you as you are now. The you I fell in love with, the you who filled my heart with love and promised me the world. He is gone though, and still I grieve for him. When he died, he took a piece of me that can never heal or be replaced.
Looking back I can forgive you. I can even forgive myself. As I lay here now, my children safe and content sleeping soundly next to me, I feel happy, I feel warm, I feel light.
I am living.
rating: 13
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