ironically, now that he’s done the unthinkable, that’s what I’m going to be – all alone.
Declan’s crying now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry. It’s unsettling, even if I want to see him hurt as badly as I’m hurting. “Mia, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, but I want to talk to you about it. I need to make you understand.”
“Understand what, Dec? You lied to me. You cheated on me. You…ruined our marriage and our family…for one night with some…whore. I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth. Why Declan? I need…to understand…why?” The sobs distort my speech. I can’t even get the words out without insufferable sniffling.
“There is no explanation, Mia. But you’re not letting me talk. It’s not what you think. I didn’t…”
“You know what, spare me all the details and just get the hell out.”
“Mia…”
“GET OUT!” I scream so loud my throat feels raw. “Get out, get out, get out!” I can’t say it enough. I need him to leave. I can’t hear one more word out of his mouth. The mouth that was mine, that has now been all over someone else’s body. The thought disgusts me so much I start to wretch again, spilling out more, emptying my body to match the same empty feeling in my heart.
By the time I’m finally done, Declan is nowhere to be found.
I find my phone to call Grace. I need to talk to someone. I need to know what to do. I have no idea what comes next. I feel like the world has come to a crashing halt and I’m the only one left to decipher the outcome.
But I’m not the only one left, and my next move, and all the ones to follow, will affect so many different aspects of my life as I know it. My marriage, my home, my children, my sanity.
I decide against calling Grace. I’m too embarrassed, even if it is Grace. She won’t judge; she’ll listen, support and comfort. But I’m not ready to speak about it yet. Maybe if I don’t speak about it at all it will go away. Highly unlikely, I know.
Instead of dialing her number, I text Declan’s mother, telling her to give the kids an extra kiss for me. My beautiful little girls; they’ll be the product of a broken home and the repercussions that unravel because of it. Fucked up relationships, abandonment issues, and resentment towards their parents…all so Declan could get off with some home wrecking bitch.
I curl up into the fetal position on the couch with swollen, soaked eyes and an empty pit in my stomach. Praying that if I fall asleep I’ll wake up and this will all have been some sick, twisted nightmare.
After a week of introducing each other to our respective parents, siblings and friends from home, Declan and I are happy to be back at school. All in all, spring break didn’t turn out to be a bust. We left home with all four of our parents’ blessings. As much as I loved bringing him around my hometown, at school we’re used to a certain rhythm, one that isn’t so easy to replicate under watchful eyes of concerned parents and nosy childhood friends.
When I told them he’d be visiting, my parents were wary. I’d phone them and talk about him and my mother would warn me to be careful— ”Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” she’d say. I knew she was only trying to give motherly advice and save me unnecessary heartache, but Declan and I were already falling hard for each other. I’d read them the riot act, telling them to be nice and make a good impression because I wanted him to stick around.
My parents were more than accommodating—after the incident at the car, of course. Declan was able to connect with my parents in a way that should have taken years. He and my dad talked sports and fishing. Turns out they had more in common than I could have imagined. He’d even impressed my mom with his culinary knowledge. When he complimented her on her homemade apple cobbler, he mentioned how his specialty was peach and he even confessed his family’s
Declan’s crying now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry. It’s unsettling, even if I want to see him hurt as badly as I’m hurting. “Mia, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, but I want to talk to you about it. I need to make you understand.”
“Understand what, Dec? You lied to me. You cheated on me. You…ruined our marriage and our family…for one night with some…whore. I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth. Why Declan? I need…to understand…why?” The sobs distort my speech. I can’t even get the words out without insufferable sniffling.
“There is no explanation, Mia. But you’re not letting me talk. It’s not what you think. I didn’t…”
“You know what, spare me all the details and just get the hell out.”
“Mia…”
“GET OUT!” I scream so loud my throat feels raw. “Get out, get out, get out!” I can’t say it enough. I need him to leave. I can’t hear one more word out of his mouth. The mouth that was mine, that has now been all over someone else’s body. The thought disgusts me so much I start to wretch again, spilling out more, emptying my body to match the same empty feeling in my heart.
By the time I’m finally done, Declan is nowhere to be found.
I find my phone to call Grace. I need to talk to someone. I need to know what to do. I have no idea what comes next. I feel like the world has come to a crashing halt and I’m the only one left to decipher the outcome.
But I’m not the only one left, and my next move, and all the ones to follow, will affect so many different aspects of my life as I know it. My marriage, my home, my children, my sanity.
I decide against calling Grace. I’m too embarrassed, even if it is Grace. She won’t judge; she’ll listen, support and comfort. But I’m not ready to speak about it yet. Maybe if I don’t speak about it at all it will go away. Highly unlikely, I know.
Instead of dialing her number, I text Declan’s mother, telling her to give the kids an extra kiss for me. My beautiful little girls; they’ll be the product of a broken home and the repercussions that unravel because of it. Fucked up relationships, abandonment issues, and resentment towards their parents…all so Declan could get off with some home wrecking bitch.
I curl up into the fetal position on the couch with swollen, soaked eyes and an empty pit in my stomach. Praying that if I fall asleep I’ll wake up and this will all have been some sick, twisted nightmare.
After a week of introducing each other to our respective parents, siblings and friends from home, Declan and I are happy to be back at school. All in all, spring break didn’t turn out to be a bust. We left home with all four of our parents’ blessings. As much as I loved bringing him around my hometown, at school we’re used to a certain rhythm, one that isn’t so easy to replicate under watchful eyes of concerned parents and nosy childhood friends.
When I told them he’d be visiting, my parents were wary. I’d phone them and talk about him and my mother would warn me to be careful— ”Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” she’d say. I knew she was only trying to give motherly advice and save me unnecessary heartache, but Declan and I were already falling hard for each other. I’d read them the riot act, telling them to be nice and make a good impression because I wanted him to stick around.
My parents were more than accommodating—after the incident at the car, of course. Declan was able to connect with my parents in a way that should have taken years. He and my dad talked sports and fishing. Turns out they had more in common than I could have imagined. He’d even impressed my mom with his culinary knowledge. When he complimented her on her homemade apple cobbler, he mentioned how his specialty was peach and he even confessed his family’s
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