She knew even before he walked in the door what was going to happen. She could sense it-long before he told her his doubts-maybe even before they said their vows. It was something she kept deep inside of her, hoping no one would take the time to look; to take the time to see the wounds she kept hidden.
The door opened and his eyes darted past hers. Cold air blew violently through the hallway, letting her know he was leaving again; he hadn't shut the garage door.
She stood still, barely breathing, not knowing what to do. "How has it come to this?" she thought. "This isn't supposed to be my life."
"Hey" he said, in his newly learned coolness. "I'm going to throw in some laundry and then we can talk."
"Ok." she mumbled, already thinking of what she was going to do to survive when he left.Later in the garage, he sat in his chair smoking his God awful cigars-the ones that he insisted on smoking, mainly, she was sure, because he knew she hated them so much. She sat on the step, hugging the banister-her only comfort, the cold, splintery wood.
"You're the best friend I've ever had. And probably the best friend I ever will have. You make me laugh, and I know you'd do anything for anyone who needed something."
He took more time to puff. More time, she thought, to torture her; to keep control over her because he knew that he could.
"But I'm not in love with you anymore." And with that, he let out all of the smoke he was holding inside, in a slow, methodical way.
She cried instantly-something she rarely did when faced with sadness. Tears rolled down her cheeks, freezing before they reached her chin leaving salty lines etched on her skin. She couldn't say anything except "Are you sure?" and realized this was absurd, even while speaking the words.
His neck stiffened and he stuck his jaw out-a gesture she hated for no reason at all. "Yes." He said, "I'm sure."
"Does that mean you want a divorce?" she whispered, barely audible, her voice choked back with tears.
Again, he stiffened and shook his head "yes".
It's hard to say what happened to her in the few seconds after she watched his answer spiral toward her through the air. She became numb, that is for sure, and her body floated-disconnected from the life she was currently living. She got a splinter from gripping the railing so hard. A tiny drop of blood came to the surface of her finger and she put it to her lips drinking in the life that was spilling from her.
"I don't want this to happen." She cried. "It can't happen."
"I can't stay married. I'm not sure I am supposed to be married to anyone."
"Is there someone else?"
No one but she would have detected it, but he paused just slightly, the way he always did when he lied. "No" he said, his neck stiff, another tell tale clue of his deceit.
She ran into the house, knowing that her fairy tale had ended, that her foot was too big to fit in the sacred glass slipper. Unable to see through her tears, she crashed into the wall, and slid to the floor. She was sobbing when he found her and together they sat in the hallway, on opposite walls, sitting on the floor.
"I'm sorry" he said. "I can't live this lie anymore. I just can't pretend that this life is for me."
She looked at him then, knowing that the man she fell in love with didn't move back home with her-realizing that he remained only in her memories of the year when fairy tales were her life.
"Ok." She said. "What's the plan? What are we going to do?"
His plan, she learned, was mapped out months ago. He'd stay for a while until he found a new place. "The house is big enough" he claimed. Then he'd move away, taking only what he needed and she would keep the rest.
What he didn't know was that no house was ever big enough-that there would not be enough space between them for a long, long time, and that "the rest" was a lot to handle alone.
