Unexpected Declaration

Jane lay in bed next to her husband. She felt lost and empty in her chest. Alone, Jane bore the weight of years of anxiety, secret tears, false apologies, and shattered hopes. Sometimes she wished he would hit her to stop the excruciating pain of the lies and accusations. She was the faithful spouse, but he, the cheater, accused her of infidelity. Her hand instinctively reached out for him. The instant it touched his scratched back, it recoiled. Those were not her territorial marks.

Her stomach turned, and her face contorted as she let out another silent scream. She was so tired of arguing with her husband every day. The constant degradation and humiliation made her hate. This time was different. As she clenched her fists, she became dead. All her emotions vanished. The suddenness of the change temporarily paralyzed her. That is, until her foot found the middle of his lying, cheating back.

Why did I do that? She wondered as his body collapsed with a thud on the cold hardwood floor.

“Wha, what happened?” Her husband asked.

“I wasted my life on you.” She could not believe the hate spewing from her mouth. "I hate you!"

It was something she wanted to say to him so many times during their twenty-three-year marriage. She wanted him to know how much it hurt to be the side chick in her marriage. It was not their marriage. He was never a part of the family.

“Honey.” His voice echoed like a distant sound deep in a valley lost somewhere in the raging mosh pit of thoughts. “I fell off the bed.”

He sounded pitiful, but she could not find it in her to care. She focused her eyes on a speck of dust in the corner of the bedroom just left of the hideous curtain she bought because her husband liked it.

“Get out.” Jane barely heard the words as they fell from her mouth. “Get out!” She screamed.

“Honey?”

“Get out, get out, get out. I hate you!” She screeched and curled her fingers like a cinematic, maniacal female villain.

“What did you do?” He asked with realization in his voice as he turned to look at her.

“I hate you,” Jane hollered before drawing an icy breath. She sighed. Then declared with the utmost sincerity, “I want a divorce.”

She did not plan that last part. None of this was by design. Her perfectly organized life fell apart with each word she spoke. The pain she felt over the past two-plus decades refused to be silent anymore. So many times, she wondered how leaving would feel, to rid herself of this farce of a marriage, to be free of the fighting, screaming, and silent agony. Now, she knew. It felt like a void and tingles in her collar bone.

“You don’t mean that,” he said as he pulled himself up from the floor

“I do,” she said, and threw a pillow at him, “get out.”

“But, I . . .”

“No,” she insisted, “I’m done, leave.”

“I’m going to the couch,” he replied.”

“No, leave,” she whispered as she turned her head away from him.

Her eyes watched the twinkling button on her headboard until she heard the door latch snap. She took a deep breath that filled her chest with a heavy boulder of emptiness. It took a second, but she finally doubled over and cried tears of happiness and relief. Her body shook with fear of the unknown, but she was finally free . . . and empty.