you.”
I stood in the doorway watching. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to hurt me. And, frankly, that did piss me off. I was so thankful I’d told my family and they were there backing me up, because in that moment I needed it.
Grant wasn’t a violent man, well until the last week. And it wasn’t like he’d been brutally violent with me, per se. However, the words coming from him were intended to cut me deep, but I was armed with the truth. Finally, that bitch was on my side.
“It’s just us. We’re here to help Blake pack up a few things. That’s all,” my dad said as he pulled his arms through his jacket and took it off, laying it over the back of a chair nearest him.
“So what did she tell you? What lie? Was I mean to her? No. That can’t be it. Wasn’t providing for her? No. I sure as hell bought her this house. Let’s see—”
Shane interrupted, “I think that’s enough, Grant.”
“Oh, maybe she told you I was fucking someone else. Was that it?” He turned to look at me for confirmation of his accusation. It was lucky for him I’d never seen this side of him before we were married. Or maybe not. At least then he wouldn’t be going through a divorce. I wouldn’t have even considered being his wife had I witnessed how ugly he could be. There never would have been a Blake Kelly.
“I told them the truth,” I said. “Everything. They know everything. ”
He laughed. “One should be so lucky. When are you going to tell me everything? When is it my turn? When’s the next showing of Blake the True Story? I don’t want to miss it.”
My dad interjected, “Come on, Blake. You wanted to get some of your clothes. Let’s go up and get them.” He didn’t feed into Grant’s hostility. I never wanted a fight and the three of us knew that wasn’t Grant’s normal behavior. He was mad, and rightly so. But my dad was right, that wasn’t what we were there for. We were there for my shit and that was all. There was nothing else in that house I wanted. I had never really lived here. I had never really lived with Grant. We had…co-existed. Yet, he’d been happy with that? How is that possible?
I went back into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to search for my mugs. I couldn’t leave them now. Not after almost two years and countless nights of drinking wine from them while dreaming of Casey. Even though their writing had all but weathered away, the words were scored in my mind. I was trouble and he liked it. Those mugs were mine.
When I found them, I wrapped the mismatched pair in a plastic grocery bag. Heading upstairs, I noticed Grant had taken a seat at the table with his head in his hands. It was a miserable sight. I detested seeing what I’d done to someone who I’d sworn to love, but my sympathy couldn’t change it. Hell, it couldn’t even change the way I felt about him when I’d tried to make it.
Didn’t that count for something? Didn’t trying my best to be with him add up to anything to anyone? It didn’t seem like it. So what was it all for? I’d carelessly thrown away so much time.
Packing a closet in a hurry is pretty damn easy. Just grab an armful, lift and drop crap in a box. After we filled what boxes we had and they’d loaded them in the truck, I retrieved some of my things from the office and packed up my laptop bag with items I used when I worked from home.
I reflected as I stepped down the stairs and realized I didn’t care about much else within the walls of that house. Would we split up the furniture? Would we divide the flatware and dishes? I didn’t give a shit about any of it. He could have it all.
I carried out the last few things I wanted to Shane’s truck and told him I’d be right back. I needed to say something to Grant. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I hoped by the time I got where he was still sitting, it would be the right thing.
It turns out, the right thing for me was, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m seeing a lawyer. We’re
I stood in the doorway watching. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to hurt me. And, frankly, that did piss me off. I was so thankful I’d told my family and they were there backing me up, because in that moment I needed it.
Grant wasn’t a violent man, well until the last week. And it wasn’t like he’d been brutally violent with me, per se. However, the words coming from him were intended to cut me deep, but I was armed with the truth. Finally, that bitch was on my side.
“It’s just us. We’re here to help Blake pack up a few things. That’s all,” my dad said as he pulled his arms through his jacket and took it off, laying it over the back of a chair nearest him.
“So what did she tell you? What lie? Was I mean to her? No. That can’t be it. Wasn’t providing for her? No. I sure as hell bought her this house. Let’s see—”
Shane interrupted, “I think that’s enough, Grant.”
“Oh, maybe she told you I was fucking someone else. Was that it?” He turned to look at me for confirmation of his accusation. It was lucky for him I’d never seen this side of him before we were married. Or maybe not. At least then he wouldn’t be going through a divorce. I wouldn’t have even considered being his wife had I witnessed how ugly he could be. There never would have been a Blake Kelly.
“I told them the truth,” I said. “Everything. They know everything. ”
He laughed. “One should be so lucky. When are you going to tell me everything? When is it my turn? When’s the next showing of Blake the True Story? I don’t want to miss it.”
My dad interjected, “Come on, Blake. You wanted to get some of your clothes. Let’s go up and get them.” He didn’t feed into Grant’s hostility. I never wanted a fight and the three of us knew that wasn’t Grant’s normal behavior. He was mad, and rightly so. But my dad was right, that wasn’t what we were there for. We were there for my shit and that was all. There was nothing else in that house I wanted. I had never really lived here. I had never really lived with Grant. We had…co-existed. Yet, he’d been happy with that? How is that possible?
I went back into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to search for my mugs. I couldn’t leave them now. Not after almost two years and countless nights of drinking wine from them while dreaming of Casey. Even though their writing had all but weathered away, the words were scored in my mind. I was trouble and he liked it. Those mugs were mine.
When I found them, I wrapped the mismatched pair in a plastic grocery bag. Heading upstairs, I noticed Grant had taken a seat at the table with his head in his hands. It was a miserable sight. I detested seeing what I’d done to someone who I’d sworn to love, but my sympathy couldn’t change it. Hell, it couldn’t even change the way I felt about him when I’d tried to make it.
Didn’t that count for something? Didn’t trying my best to be with him add up to anything to anyone? It didn’t seem like it. So what was it all for? I’d carelessly thrown away so much time.
Packing a closet in a hurry is pretty damn easy. Just grab an armful, lift and drop crap in a box. After we filled what boxes we had and they’d loaded them in the truck, I retrieved some of my things from the office and packed up my laptop bag with items I used when I worked from home.
I reflected as I stepped down the stairs and realized I didn’t care about much else within the walls of that house. Would we split up the furniture? Would we divide the flatware and dishes? I didn’t give a shit about any of it. He could have it all.
I carried out the last few things I wanted to Shane’s truck and told him I’d be right back. I needed to say something to Grant. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I hoped by the time I got where he was still sitting, it would be the right thing.
It turns out, the right thing for me was, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m seeing a lawyer. We’re
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