Chapter 8
“Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m trying to keep peace in this house.”
I turned.
“No. You’ve been buying peace from your mother with pieces of me.”
His face tightened.
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me one time in the last six months when she crossed a line and you chose me.”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Elena, I lost my job.”
“I know.”
“I feel useless every day.”
My anger weakened for half a second because I knew that part was true.
Daniel had changed after losing his job.
He stopped calling friends.
Stopped exercising.
Stopped talking about plans.
Every rejection seemed to make him smaller.
And the smaller he felt, the more he let his mother make decisions for him.
But pain explained his behavior.
It did not erase mine.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” I said. “But you watched me get hurt because standing up to her was harder.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“She’s my mother.”
“And I’m your wife.”
“I know.”
“No, Daniel. You remember it when it’s convenient.”
His eyes dropped.
I packed Lucas’s medicine, diapers, bottles, clothes, and his stuffed fox.
Then I reached for my documents.
Birth certificate.
Marriage certificate.
Bank statements.
Insurance papers.
Daniel looked at the folder.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking what belongs to me.”
His face changed.
“You’re making this look like some kind of escape.”
I stared at him.
“I limped home carrying our son while my car sat outside because your mother wanted to teach me a lesson.”
He had no answer.
Downstairs, I heard Marlene arguing with my father.
Her voice carried through the house.
“She has always been too sensitive.”
Then Dad.
“Your definition of sensitivity is interesting.”
I almost smiled.
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed.
“If you leave, what happens to us?”
I stopped packing.
That was the first honest question he had asked.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes filled.
“Elena.”
“I don’t know because I don’t know who you are when your mother is in the room.”
That landed.
He looked away.
I zipped the suitcase.
When I came downstairs, Marlene was standing near the kitchen island.
My father was by the front door.
Lucas was in his arms, chewing on the ear of his stuffed elephant.
Marlene looked at my suitcase.
“So you’re really doing this.”
“I’m staying with my father.”