Defining Moments (2 page)

“We need to talk, Ell,” he says, not meeting my eyes.

I sit at the breakfast bar, knowing whatever it is, it’s bad. I wrack my brain trying to figure out what it could be. Is he sick? Did he lose his job? Are we broke?

“Ell, there really is no easy way to say this,” he chokes out, eyes filling with tears. Oh God. “You are my best friend, and I love you and our boys,” he pauses and looks up at me as the tears spill over, “but I’m not in love with you anymore.”

I stare at his face, trying to take in what he just said. I stand quickly, knocking the stool over in the process, backing up toward the sink.

“I’m so sorry, Ell. We both know we’ve been living as best friends, and not lovers, for years, and I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t go through the rest of my life without the passion we once had. We’ve both changed so much and it’s inevitable that we’d fall out of love,” he cries. “Please don’t hate me, Ellie. I won’t be able to deal with it if you hate me.”

I just stare at him, tears streaming down my face. What do I say to that?

“You don’t love me anymore?” I choke out.

“I do love you, Ell. But don’t you miss that passionate kind of love that we used to share? The kind that used to make your heart beat fast and the butterflies fill your stomach?”

“No, I don’t miss that, Justin. You know why I don’t miss it,” I yell at him, “because I still feel it! I still feel it every single time you touch me.” I race past him toward the stairs, but he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him.

“Please, Ellie. Please don’t hate me. You and the boys are the most important thing in the world to me. I just feel like I need a life change, and I think this is it. I’ve been unhappy for a while and I just don’t know what else to do,” he sobs into my hair.

I give myself a minute to catch my breath. I tap his hands lightly and he loosens his hold on me. I slowly pull myself away from him and take a few steps forward.

“I think you need to leave,” I say with as much strength as I can.

“But we need to talk about this more. We need to figure out what to do next,” he retorts, pain evident in his voice.

I turn and look into the eyes of the man I’ve loved more than half my life; the man I promised to love till death; the man who gave me three beautiful sons; the man who, up until a week ago looked at me like I was his greatest gift. His usually beautiful face is completely sullen and he looks heartbroken, which is odd since he’s the one who just told me he doesn’t love me. And then it dawns on me.

“Who is she?” I choke out. His face drops even further and he looks down at the ground, confirming there is a “she.”

“Don’t do this, Ellie,” he replies, tears still in his eyes. “I’d never cheat on you because I respect you more than that. Nothing has happened with anyone else,” he pauses, swallowing before he continues, “but it could.”

I sit on the ground for fear I’ll pass out. This can’t be happening to us. We’ve been married for twenty-one years! We were high school sweethearts—the couple most likely to stay together forever. I always thought we were the lucky ones because we were still so in love with each other after all this time. What a fool I’ve been.

He lowers himself onto the ground beside me and leans back against the wall, hanging his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. I watch as his shoulders shake and the sobs wrack his body. Why in the hell is he so upset? He did this.

“Why then?” I ask sternly. “Why are you tearing apart our family if you are ‘so sorry’?”

He lifts his head and looks into my eyes, and I know instantly I don’t want to hear this answer.

“I don’t want the boys to hate me,” he professes. “They are my life, Ell.”

Wow. This meltdown he’s having has nothing to do with me or how I feel. It’s about our boys. I didn’t think my heart could hurt any more than it did before, but I was wrong. It is now irreparably shattered. He is right, the boys will be devastated. I almost feel selfish that I’m pissed because I know his entire concern is our kids and not me.

“Well, I guess you better figure out what you’re going to tell them then. I don’t think they’ll want to hear ‘Sorry, boys, I just don’t love your mom anymore and there’s this hot piece of ass I have my eye on, so I’m going after it,’” I fume. I stand quickly, backing away from him.

“Ell, it’s not like that at all,” he starts, but I shake my head vigorously, stopping his explanation.

“I don’t want to know any more details, Justin,” I begin. “You’ve made your point crystal clear for me. You don’t love me anymore, you want to bang someone else who you’ve already been building a relationship with behind my back, and you are afraid the boys will hate you when they find out. Got it. My suggestion is that you take a few days to figure out how you want to tell them.”

I turn toward the stairs to hide until he leaves, but his next words stop me in my tracks.

“I do love you, Ell, I always have, but I need more. This is just not enough anymore,” he expresses, while shifting his hand back and forth between the two of us.

I walk toward him quickly, and before I even register what I’m doing, I bring my hand across his face as hard as I can muster.

“Fuck you! I’ve given you and our boys MY LIFE Justin! My whole world revolves around you and our family. I’ve done nothing with my life but raise our boys and take care of you and our home. If THAT is not enough for you, then . . .” I choke out and then feel myself breaking. I cover my mouth with my hands as the sobs tear through me. He tries to put his arms around me in comfort and I push back against him as hard as I can. He’s almost twice my size, so he doesn’t go far, but he goes willingly.

“Don’t you ever touch me again. Don’t pretend for one goddamn minute that you care that you just ripped my heart out and threw it away after twenty-one years of marriage,” I scream at him, watching as tears roll down his face.

“I do care, damn it! Don’t you see this is killing me!” he yells back, once again trying to pull me to him.

I push against him again and start hitting his chest with my fists. He doesn’t stop me; he just lets me hit him until all the energy is drained out of me. I slump to the floor in front of him. He drops back down beside me and grabs my hands, but I’m just too tired to fight him anymore.

“Just go, Justin. I won’t stop you. Go to her if she makes you happy,” I choke out, before pulling my hands away from him and getting up to go upstairs. He nods but doesn’t attempt to get up.

When I get to the foot of the stairs, I turn to him. He’s still hanging his head in his hands. My beautiful Justin, so big and strong, with his beautiful blond hair and beautiful brown eyes. He somehow looks unfamiliar to me now though, like I don’t know him at all and my whole life has been a lie.

“I wish I had been enough for you,” I whisper, but he hears me because his head turns to me, tears running down his face.

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” he sobs out.

“Go,” I reply, turning and running up the stairs as fast as my legs will take me.

SIX MONTHS AGO,
life as I knew it changed and a lot has happened since then. The twins didn’t talk to their dad for a couple of months after he told them he was moving out. They were pissed. Destry still hasn’t forgiven him, although he has at least been civil to him lately when he drops by. I’m sure the motorcycle he got him for his seventeenth birthday a few months ago helped with the attitude change. For their sake, I’m hoping they can repair their relationship. With Destry leaving in a few months to go away for college, I’m afraid if Justin doesn’t fix it soon, it’ll be too late for them. None of the boys have been to their dad’s new place yet, and I haven’t asked if he lives alone. I don’t really want to know. We haven’t discussed divorce yet and I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I’m hopeful he will come home. It makes me feel pathetic.

Justin told the boys he was away on business for the first three days after he left our home. I didn’t get out of bed during those days, faking the flu so the boys wouldn’t hang out with me too much and wouldn’t know how truly pitiful I was being. After Justin moved out and we officially separated, I was a mess. I’d gotten pregnant with the twins at the end of our senior year of high school, and Justin and I had married a week after graduation. I’d been a stay-at-home mom ever since. The fear I felt about not having Justin’s income scared me half to death. How was I going to support me and three boys, boys who ate enough to feed a third-world country, when I had no job and no skills to get a job?

I refused to talk to Justin for the first couple of weeks after he moved out. I just needed time to hate him. He finally stopped calling and texting obsessively and just started sending messages like, “I paid the mortgage,” and “I left you a check in the mailbox for bills and groceries.” It was around then I realized how much I hated that he had to do that and how much I didn’t want to rely on him for those things anymore.

So, on the one-month anniversary of the day Justin dropped his bomb on me, I spent hours scanning “help wanted” job sites and filling out applications for everything from receptionist to waitress to dish washer. Then, I ventured down to the local culinary school and applied to attend. I’d always loved to cook and I think I’m pretty damn good at it. Two weeks later, I was attending culinary school three days a week and waitressing full-time in the evenings.

I have to say I love waitressing. I love being able to interact with people, and it doesn’t hurt that I love the food at the restaurant I’m working at. Culinary school is going well and, although it’s just a certificate program at this point, it will get my foot in the door to working as a line or sous chef in a restaurant. My best guess is I’ll be able to finish up within the next few months or so. I’m excited to start my new career and be able to move forward with my life. It feels good knowing I’ll be able to take care of myself soon, with no more help from Justin. As much as I hope he’ll come home for good, I know I don’t ever want to depend on his income as my stability.

Just as I’m finishing up the breakfast dishes, my phone chimes.

Justin: Are you home? Need to talk to you.

Me: Yep. Come on over.

Justin: Be there in 5.

I run upstairs quickly to throw my hair up in a bun since I haven’t showered yet. I pull on some jeans and a t-shirt and brush my teeth. Butterflies erupt in my stomach when the doorbell rings. Maybe this is it. Maybe he’s decided to come home and he wants to talk about it. I try to squash the hope I’m feeling as I make my way down the stairs, but I can feel my heart lighten a little. Yeah, totally pathetic.

I hear him talking on the other side of the door and I chuckle to myself that he still talks to himself when he’s nervous. The smile falls from my face the moment my eyes connect with the person on the other side.

Here, on my front porch, is a beautiful young woman with a small baby bump and her arm wrapped around my husband’s waist. I look from her, to him, and back to her before it registers what I’m seeing. Justin’s face is emotionless, staring at me as though he’s frozen.

“Hi, you must be Ell,” says the teeny-bopper with an annoyingly high-pitched voice. I can’t help but size her up. She’s irritatingly beautiful; long, straight black hair, bright green eyes, about my height but super slender and muscular. Even with the baby bump she’s breathtaking. The bitch.

I choke on my own saliva when I try to swallow, and start coughing hysterically. Justin reaches toward me to pat my back and she grabs his arm, pulling back on him.

“Are you okay, Ell?” he asks quickly.

I continue to cough longer than necessary, trying to wrap my mind around this wreck that’s happening in front of me. Justin does not look happy.

After I get myself under control, I turn to her. “My name is Ellie, not Ell. And you are?” I ask without taking the hand she’s offering.

“I’m Julia, of course,” she replies like I should know who she is, before continuing, “Ya know, Justin’s girlfriend.”

I look from her to Justin, who still looks upset, and then back to her. The fact that Justin is not saying anything is pissing me off.

“Well, Julia, why are you on my front porch with your arm around my husband?” I bite out. She starts to answer but Justin pulls her into his side to stop her.

“Ell, we need to talk to you,” Justin jumps in. The sheer fact that he is so uncomfortable is the only thing that is making me not lose my shit right now. I’m loving that this is bothering him so much. Selfish bastard.

“I don’t think there is much to talk about, do you, Justin?” I smirk. “It’s obvious what’s going on here. You’ve shacked up with Teen Barbie Baby Mama over here and you’ve come to tell me you want a divorce.” I shake my head and laugh humorlessly. Julia huffs at my assessment and starts to reply, but Justin grabs her wrist and shakes his head to stop her.