I turn to see Ashton in the archway. Tears fills his eyes before spilling over. Acrid guilt mingles with the anger to burn a fiery path along my nerves. I spare a second to wipe my hands on a dishtowel, then I rush to his side. He buries his face into my neck, his little body trembling. I swallow thickly and stand with him clutched in my arms.
“We’re going to get dinner,” I spit out. “Cook whatever you want.”
“Dealla, stop. Where—what the hell happened?”
I don’t bother answering Holden. Even when I nearly fall on my ass while trying to slip my feet into my flats, I stay silent. Holden grabs my purse before I can, holding it out of range. I refuse to cave. Refuse to say a word.
Refuse to give in to the urge to tell him exactly how I feel about his lack of care.
I may be angry, and I hate what he’s done, but I don’t want to end our relationship. I still love him despite it all.
“Dealla, please talk to me.”
I reach out and yank my purse from his hand. Everything about the situation is so wrong. I don’t care. Grabbing his keys from the hook, I step outside and close the door on the sight of Holden. The hurt and confusion on his face remain visible through the glass.
Cracks eat away at the foundation of our relationship as the snap of the door echoes in my ears.
The Cost of Goodbye
Thehouseisemptywhen I step through the front door three hours later. Ashton snores in my ear, and the sound is calling something peaceful in the middle of the storm that rages on. I carry the sleeping child up the stairs to his room and tuck him into bed. He lets out a soft sigh and relaxes further into the blankets. Once his lion is tucked between his arm and his body, I sit on the floor next to the bed and watch Ashton sleep.
His upset about my outburst faded with the time that passed and the attention I showered him with while we were gone. My own feelings toward it are as dark and murky as ever. I’d half-expected Holden to follow us out of the house. Or to send text after text demanding answers, especially since I’d taken his car. Neither happened. My phone stayed silent. I spent the hours away with Ashton, my heart breaking more the longer I went without any contact.
Tears slip down my cheeks without permission, but I don’t wipe them away. Alone in the dark is the best place for them, and why should I continue to hide what I feel? I’m tired, so bone-deep exhausted, and I don’t want to keep every negative thought and emotion locked away.
Pale moonlight spreads through the room, filling it with a hazy glow, and I can’t help but think of how beautiful it would be if nothing was falling apart. How can Holden so easily say he loves me if he can just as easily hurt me this way? I wonder if he notices, if he even cares, how much I’ve been struggling. The hope that things will get better has only slipped incrementally through my fingers.
Pushing to my feet, I cross the room to the window. The milky light touches everything below, casts shadows that loom ever larger the longer I stare. The darkness outside echoes the one in my chest. I tug the curtains closed as the jagged piece cuts me even deeper.
I go to bed alone. I don’t sleep, and the bed remains empty through the night. My pillow catches the tears, the ones that remind me of my uncertainty about the status of my relationship. The other half of the mattress is cold and vast. It overwhelms me with its barren existence, and I lose grip of the final thread of hope.
The alarm goes off at its normal time, and I stare at my phone as it vibrates on the nightstand. My body weighs too much, my muscles bound by a heaviness, and I yearn to stay where I am. Eventually, I tap the screen until the buzzing stops, then pick up the device. The screen is full of notifications but none from the one person I need to hear from. I sigh and type out a message to my boss, asking if she has time this morning to talk. Tara replies in the affirmative, followed by aYou okay?I don’t bother replying as I force myself out of bed.
Holden’s hygiene products sit on the bathroom counter, and I gasp in a shaky breath before slamming my hand against the light switch. The room falls into darkness, and I all but run to the guest bathroom. I try—god, do I try—but there’s no stopping the sobs that break loose as I lean against the wall.
The drive to work is quiet save for my music streaming app pushing songs through the speakers. Ashton flips through his search-and-find book, chattering quietly to himself, and I send up a silent thank you for the peace. Conversation can’t happen, not with the lump in my throat and the stolen breaths that tear at my lungs. The 80s soft rock song ends, and another begins. This one starts with rhythmic strumming of a guitar, joined a beat later by a woman’s voice. She sings of a woman leaving a note in the kitchen questioning why her husband would care if she leaves.
I reach over and press the power button to the stereo. The music cuts off abruptly, and I glance in the rearview mirror. Ashton doesn’t seem to notice the silence as his fingers slide across the laminated cardboard pages of his book. I vow to make things right for him.
For myself, too.
The chorus plays through my head through the meeting with Tara, an endless loop that fills my mind all day. My coworkers question if I’m okay, and I lie and say I’m fine. I’m going to be okay. I know it will hurt worse before it gets better, but a light has finally started shining at the end of the tunnel.
Holden still hasn’t called or texted by the time my shift ends. I wave goodbye to my coworkers, the people who’d become friends, and buckle Ashton in his seat. I avoid Josh’s gaze—so concerned, so pitying—as I drive away.
A quick stop at home later, the city melts from sight in the rearview, growing smaller with each miles that’s eaten up by the tires. I draw in a deep breath. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel when a sob threatens to bubble out of me. I refuse to cry, to give my emotions control. Not again.
This was a decision borne of my emotions, but it was also made with logic.
This is the best thing for us, for Ashton and me, even for Holden. The pain will fade with time. Until then, I will put on a brave face and pretend nothing is awry. That my heart isn’t shattered and left behind on the floor of the home I used to share with Holden. I’ll fake happy smiles and dry eyes until they become reality. Whenever that is.
The drive grows torturous. Without someone to share the burden, hours seem to pass with the ease of frozen molasses. The radio crackles with static as I drive through areas with weak signal. Scenery stretches out for miles around, dry brush and flatlands and a monotonous sweep of beige and green. My phone rings in its holder every so often, but I never answer. Talking to anyone, especially those I’m leaving behind, will only cause me to rethink this decision.
Ashton babbles in the backseat for minutes at a time, happily keeping me company. Then he asks about his ’Den, and I’m punched in the gut with the pain again. My voice shakes as I answer him, and I worry he’ll notice, he might realize this isn’t just a drive to the park.
This isn’t really what I wanted. Leaving Holden… It is the last thing I ever could have imagined willingly doing. I fell in love, and I thought it would be forever. That it’s come to this… I hate it. I know I’m not innocent or blameless. I could have talked to him. I could have fought to keep the relationship alive. Hell, Ishouldhave. But being shown over and over that I wasn’t important enough to fight for had worn down any strength I had left.
I pull off the highway when Ashton has whined for an hour about being in his carseat. The hotel I stop at looks like one strong gust of wind will knock it over, but I don’t complain. I can’t complain. I have no other option. It’s clean enough inside, though a musty odor lingers, and the lights flicker eerily as I tuck Ashton into the center of the bed. He isn’t placated by my gentle voice and the lullaby I learned before he was born. Instead, he repeatedly demands to say goodnight to Holden. I come close to caving but remind myself it’s meant to be a clean cut.
