Here You Miss
E. C. Liddell, March 3, 2012
Time has stopped moving. I mean, it feels like it has. Every time I look at that clock, it hasn't moved an inch. It's weird, though. With every tick of the second hand on that ugly goddamned clock, the walls close in. I don't know why I even look at it. She picks out the ugliest stuff. I guess that's why she picked that asshole to have an affair with. She's never been able to make a good decision without me.
Just like her decision to leave. She didn't have any business leaving...no real reason, really. She says that I've been emotionally overbearing for years. That I'm manipulative, and I only care about my own crap. But what about her? Even though I knew she'd like the band, she didn't want to come to the concert I bought tickets for. I planned the vacation to Utah in July for our anniversary. But she didn't want any of that, either. She must be having another affair. Why else would she move out, or say that she doesn't want to go to Utah this summer? Yeah. It's just like her to do what she wants to do. If she could just play ball, I wouldn't have had to find those disgusting emails from her douchebag boyfriend during our family Christmas. Shit, I plan and plan to surprise everyone with Christmas in Gatlinburg, and all she had to do was ride down there and have a good time. I just wanted a nice family holiday. The stockings were hung, the grandkids were playing, but I look in her e mail to find that she's been sending clandestine messages all week to her boyfriend?
I can't believe she was mad at me for checking into him. And once we got home, I couldn't believe that she didn't expect me to call her bosses and report their interoffice relationship. It's like she didn't expect any repercussions for spreading her legs. The two of them think it's okay to screw on her desk? Well, I don't think so. Neither did her superiors when I made the phone call. They were shocked. "You think you know someone," I said. I knew she could hear my end of the call. I didn't care.
Afterward, I found her sitting in our room, crying. Sitting on our bed, crying. I find out she's having an affair, and she has the balls to sit on our bed. Under our wedding picture, taken 25 friggin' years ago, she's just sitting there. Crying. Why should she cry? I'm the one with a whore for a wife.
What did I come in here for, again? Oh, right. The laundry. I keep getting sidetracked...every room reminds me of her. The smells, the small things she left around, the ugly decorations. I don't know why she couldn't keep the house cleaner. I've been doing it all week, and it's so easy. It's not like I don't work all day like she does. And after I worked, I'm putting my clothes away and it's not hard. She can put her own shit away, though. If she ever comes back for it. She'll find it in a pile, just like the pile she left our marriage in. It's amazing that she can do laundry at her apartment. That's what she was doing when she called me to tell me what her lawyer had to say. I asked what she was doing, and she said she was headed for the laundry room. I can't believe she had the audacity to get mad at me when I asked her if she was going down there to meet guys. It's pretty ballsy for her to hang up on me. I didn't have the affair.
She probably won't come back for the clothes. She'll leave it for me to deal with, just like everything else. Just like when I cried and told her I wanted her to come home, and she told me it was too late. She didn't even come to the hospital when I told her I was going to the psych ward because it was too much to have her gone. She just called my sister and told her to make sure I was okay. Cold, selfish bitch.
She just wants to do her own thing, and everyone else can go to hell. She doesn't care that her moving out made our home hell. She won't answer the phone when I call, and she won't text me back. I even sent her an e card. But does any of that mean anything to her? No. I selected the option to be notified when she opened it. She never did. No appreciation for the little things. I got her that open heart necklace that she wanted for Christmas, too. Even put in the card that even though it was a hard year, I forgive her for the affair. But instead of appreciating how hard that was to say or how expensive the necklace was, she just handed it back to me. She told me to take it back to the store.
Tick, tick, tick, and the walls are closer, closer, closer.
I'm going to wait to return the necklace, though. I want it to be here for her when she comes back.
I know she's going to crawl back.