“What more do you want from me? I provide you and the girls with everything you could ever want. You have unlimited funds to do with what you please!” he yells, and I’m shaking my head before he can even finish that stupid-ass thought process.
“When was the last time you took me on a date? When was the last time you got home and greeted me with a kiss, or told me you love me, or sent me a text just to see how my day is going?”
His mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to come up with an excuse, I’m sure, but I don’t give him the chance. I’m so over this conversation already and want him the hell away from me.
“Get out. Right now. Get the hell out of this house before you wake the girls up with your absolute stupidity or make me do it when they hear me castrating their father. Get. Out!” I pick up his laptop case, and what normally feels really heavy when I set it by the door each morning with his perfectly prepared lunch cooler, feels like it weighs nothing with my adrenaline pumping, and I throw it at him with all my might. He catches it with a panicked look on his face and a loud “Oof” when it slams into his chest.
He doesn’t speak another word. Not even an apology for coming home and imploding my entire world. Without another look my way, he turns and walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him, and I hear the electronic lock slide into place.
2
Cece
It’s been a week since I kicked Mike out of the house. A week of acting like everything is fine in front of my daughters and then collapsing into a pile of woe is me after I tuck them into bed. I’ve managed to dodge their questions about their dad not being here, telling them he’s working on a special project at work that keeps him out late, and then he leaves in the morning before they wake up. I feel guilty as hell for lying to them, and I decided this morning I’m not doing that anymore.
Why the hell am I trying to protect the man who cheated on me and destroyed my life?
But before I tell them the truth, I need backup. I’m not going to be able to do all of this on my own. It’s a simple fact of logistics and income.
I’ve talked to Mike once since that night. For now, he’s going to give me a certain amount to keep up with the house and kids, but I told him I don’t want anything else from him. My pride reared her bitchy head and told him where to shove it when he told me he’d give me whatever else I needed. I’m a goddamn stay-at-home mom. If I can survive nine years as a homemaker and mom to twins and a Ruby, I can do fucking anything.
Sure, Mike is the one who always took care of all the bills and stuff, so I’m not exactly sure how much all of this costs, but still. How much could it be? A little part-time job to stack cash on top of what Mike will put into my brand-new personal bank account that’s separate from the joint one we’ve always had should be plenty. I know I’ll probably have to cut back on certain things, like going to the salon, my fancy gym membership, maybe not buy the twenty-dollar thimbleful of paprika at Sur la Table.
But what I decided should be number one on my list, after I finally came out of my fog of “I can’t believe this is actually happening to me” is childcare. After doing research, it was clear to me that the cost of childcare for just the couple hours after school I’d need for my girls in order for me to have a regular nine-to-five would eat up the amount I’d actually earn, seeing as I have hardly any experience and even less of a college degree. So I need an alternative.
A temporary alternative.
Because this is all just a bump in the road before we get back on track.
Along with my sobbing hysteria every night, I’ve done all sorts of research when it comes to marriage and infidelity. With enough faith in us as a couple and the help of a marriage counselor, there’s hope that we can turn this around and be happy. Happier than we’ve been in years, in fact. I’ve read so many articles, so many testimonies, saying that even after one of them cheated, after the grief process and therapy, they ended up on a level of wedded bliss they never had before the infidelity happened. That could be us, right? Was this just the defibrillator we needed to shock some life back into our relationship?