We stand in the kitchen together, but separate. Quietly ignoring the elephant in the room as we go about our business. I am folding laundry, and he is preparing patties for the grill. Both of us tired; too tired of the game to even attempt to start it anymore. It almost began in the truck on our way home when he asked what was wrong, but my silence gave him the answer that he needed, so we drove the rest of the way listening to the radio. I don’t need to wait six more days to find out what he’s going to do to know whether I intend to stay in this relationship. I already know. I’m not. As I said before, I’m tired.
It was beautiful out today. I threw on my tank top and flip-flops, the husband and I ventured to the city, and I hoped that we would enjoy ourselves. We didn’t. Or should I say, I didn’t. It seemed like any other day we are out together. He stops at the station to grab cigarettes, we pop in a couple more places to pick up odds and ends we can’t get at the grocery store, he asks if I’m hungry and we get a bite to eat, then do grocery shopping and return home. It’s nearly the same every time, and he seldom strays from this routine unless there may be an auction in the vicinity. This is his idea of getting me out of the house and my having fun. This time I told him I wasn’t hungry. This time I sat in the truck and let him do the grocery shopping. I smoked a few cigarettes, and stared out the window while waiting.
We used to actually talk about it. When we would go into town occasionally I would ask him if we could stop, maybe have a few beers and shoot some pool so I could have a little fun and be around people, and an argument would ensue. He would tell me that he didn’t want to go ‘hang’ at the bar all day, offer to drop me off (which he knows I won’t let him, because that would leave me thirty miles from home, and no one in their right mind wants to give me a ride home that far after drinking), I would get upset and ask him why he never wants to do anything with me—but it’s okay for him to have his friends, go fishing, hunting, whatever—he would make me feel guilty for asking by telling me all I ever want to do is party, I would clam up, he would win, we would do nothing, and return home so I could finish doing his laundry, cook his dinner, etc… Do you want to know how often I go out—this woman who wants to do nothing but party? Whenever he takes me. Do you want to know the last time he took me for drinks and a game of pool? I know exactly when it was. Last July when we went riding. Today is April 3rd. When was the last time I was with any of my old friends? January…of LAST YEAR!. Do the math. Continue reading “When Is Love Not Enough?”