My husband treats me as if I do not exist unless he needs someone to blame.
My son has learned to follow his lead and sees my boundaries as hostility.
I work alone, parent alone, and fight alone.
When I discover Dan drinking with other women while claiming he is the victim, I understand the dynamic fully.
This marriage no longer protects me or my child.
It only drains me.
Filing for divorce becomes the first decision I make for myself in years.
Sunday nights are the hardest.
Tyler is dragging his feet, crying over homework thats due tomorrow, while Dan is lost in his own world, gaming with his headphones on, utterly indifferent.
No one wants anything to do with me.
Tyler is glaring at me, teary-eyed from my scolding; Dan is pretending not to notice, clearly annoyed by my presence.
Im left standing by the table, clearing up their plates, whispering to myself that its all my own fault.
But my heart aches.
Late at night, Dan slips away to the study, Tyler falls asleep, tear stains on his cheeks, and I find myself in the bathroom, looking at my own weary reflection.
This is the third month of Dans silent treatment. Three long monthsI can hardly remember why were fighting.
Under the same roof, he hasnt said a word to me. I refuse to give in; Im convinced hes at fault. But sleeplessness nags at me.
I walk to Tylers room to tidy up his backpack.
And there, on his desk, I see the new journal I got him. Under Rewards, written in that innocent, clumsy handwriting, I see:
I wish Mom would just disappear.
I blink, thinking Ive read it wrong.
I pick up the journal and take it to the living room, reading that line again.
I wish Mom would just disappear.
Shes so scary when she yells at Dad; she chased him away.
I collapse on the couch, numb, feeling an overwhelming, dull ache settle in.
The study light flips off as Dan emerges, grinning. The moment he sees me, his usual icy expression returns.
He doesnt say a word, just picks up his car keys from the coffee table.
As he walks past, I catch a whiff of his cologneVanilla Musk.
Its the same scent I picked out for him in college when we started dating. Back then, he was a tech geek, always in black-framed glasses and a white T-shirt, hopelessly oblivious to style.
I remember teasing him, A little cologne goes a long way with girls.
He promised hed keep it because I liked it.
And hes used it ever since.
The familiar scent stirs memories of who he was, of our better times, and of the family I desperately want to keep whole for Tylers sake.
The pain my son caused me rushes back, and without thinking, I stand up and grab Dans arm.
Dan, please, can we talk?
Tears silently slip down my face as I stand behind him.
He jerks his arm away.
I notice his phone screen: hes on a call.
Who is he talking to this late at night, wearing cologne?
Dan, are you coming down? Ive been craving BBQ all week! A girls voice comes through, laughing flirtatiously.
That soft, sweet tone brings back all the reasons were in this fight.
I turn to leave, but Dan grabs my arm again.
With a smirk, he says, Beg me, and Ill stay with you and Tyler tonight.
Dan has always reveled in the moment I give in, that satisfaction of seeing me break, especially now that some young girl is competing for his attention.
The way he stayslike hes doing us a favor.
I laughed, but not in amusement. Beg you? As if I made Tyler all by myself. Youre his father, too, arent you?
Am I the only one responsible for him? Dont you care at all?
Do you even realize the toll this is taking on him?
Dans expression hardened, his mouth a thin line.
Like I was some madwoman, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him.
Tylers journal, with its wish for my disappearance, was still lying on the couch.
Dan had left his study lights on as usual.
He never bothers with issueseither saying something sharp to rile me up or storming out the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces.
The slam of the door woke Tyler. Barefoot, he padded out of his room, staring at the direction his dad left.
He came over, picked up his journal from the couch, frowning.
Mom, why do you always make Dad so mad?
I didnt answer. Downstairs, the sound of Dans car engine roared, and the car drove off.
Guess Ill be biking Tyler to school again tomorrow.
I looked at the journal clenched in his little hand, at the eyes he inherited from his father.
For the first time, I realized just how trapped Ive been all these years.
I managed to make it to my bedroom, collapsed onto the bed.
Closing my eyes, I kept seeing, Mom would just disappear.
Those four words.
Honestly, Id never screamed at him hysterically. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid conflict, humbling myself to keep Dan around for Tylers sake.
I pleaded with Dan to come home, to spend time with his own son.
Sleep was impossible.
My phone lit up on the nightstand; it was a message from Linda.
I heard Dan storm out again. Did you two argue? Are you okay?
I met Linda through Craigslist, where I sold handmade crafts after Dan cut off my access to our joint account during one of his silent treatments.
I had no income, so I took on small jobs to make ends meet.
Eventually, we discovered we were neighbors.
She even bought from me, supporting my small business and showing care.
As I heard Tylers door close, I texted back: Thanks, Linda. Im fine.
The next morning, I woke up completely drained, my eyes swollen.
Dan had returned. The scent of Vanilla Musk was barely there, drowned in alcohol.
His gaze lingered on me for a moment, then shifted away.
This wasnt the silent treatment. This time, he muttered from the bathroom doorway, scornfully.
Dont you think this look is a bit dramatic?
He expected me to lash out, to scream and cry so he could leave, feeling justified.
But Id grown tired. I didnt react.
He seemed surprised, watching me with something like uncertainty.
He walked into Tylers room and spoke in that bright, affectionate tone.
Hey, buddy, Daddys taking you to school today.
The two of them left hand in hand, happily chatting, his kindness for Tyler a sharp contrast to his coldness with me.
Neither of them thought to ask how I was doing.
It felt like two knives twisting in my chest.
Taking out the trash, I ran into Linda.
She noticed my eyes and took me inside, rolling a cold spoon over the bruises under my eyes.
She looked at me, her own eyes brimming with tears. Does it hurt?
Her kindness brought back memories of Dan from when we were first married.
Back then, Dan and I had nothing. Living in San Francisco was expensive, and we could only afford a tiny basement apartment on the outskirts.
Our bathroom and kitchen were communal, and we slept on a small twin bed.
One day, after cooking in the shared kitchen, I accidentally ran into someone in the hall. In my reflex to avoid them, I burned the back of my hand with hot food.
When Dan came home, I wore gloves to hide it, not wanting him to worry, but he noticed immediately. I tried to laugh it off, saying it didnt hurt.
Dan, frantic, rushed to get me first aid. He cried so hard, his tears wouldnt stop.
I teased him, saying, What kind of man cries so much?
He replied through sobs, Evely, Ill make sure you never suffer again!
That night, he held me close, promising all the beautiful things wed do together.
Evely, I wont ever let you get hurt again.
I believed then he truly loved me.
But when did he change?
Now, it feels like were two ticking time bombs, bound together, ready to explode at the slightest friction.
Except Dan is a dudno noise, just a silent smoke that fills every corner, choking me in fear, making me scream.
Returning home, I found the place empty.
The kitchen was cold, Tylers dirty clothes scattered across the wet bathroom floor, muddy footprints tracked through the living room.
I sank onto the couch and opened my laptop.
I started drafting the divorce papers.
I didnt lack qualifications compared to Dan.
Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I was a college grad, passed the bar, and worked as an attorney for two years.
I once earned a good salary, winning cases and thriving in my career.
Then, I got pregnant.
Dan convinced me to quit and focus on raising Tyler.
At first, hed said:
When your maternity leaves over and Tylers a little older, we can hire a nanny. You can get back to work whenever youre ready.
Later, he changed it to:
Tylers used to you now, and Im in a career upswing. Going back would mean hiring a nanny, and her salary would eat up yours. It just doesnt make sense for us financially.
Lets wait until Tylers a bit older.
My son hugged mine and babbled for mommy.
I went soft.
Blame me for not insisting.
Thinking about it now, Dan’s cold violence appeared a little bit from that time.
Having finished drafting the divorce agreement, I noticed it was almost evening.
Dan still hadnt come home with Tyler.
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