So she’d made a decision, and one sunny Friday afternoon, she’d summoned up the courage to confront Wesley at his current job de jour.
“We need to talk,” she’d told him.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s never a good time.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to move out of the house, Wesley.”
He laughed. “Good joke. What’s the punch line?”
“I’m not joking.”
His smile disappeared. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. It’s not like you couldn’t see this coming. I want a separation. You know I’ve been… unhappy in our marriage.”
“I’ll try to make more time for you.”
“It’s not more time that I want, Wesley. Neither of us can live like this. Your anger is out of control. You’re out of control.”
“So this is all my fault?” Wesley sneered.
“You nearly put me in the hospital last week.”
“Maybe that’s where you belong.”
She clenched her teeth. “Your threats won’t work this time. I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving tonight, and I’m taking the kids with me.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“Seems to me you’re only thinking about yourself, what you want. Have you even thought about what this’ll do to the kids?”
“Of course I have,” she snapped. “They’re all I think about. Can you say the same?”
“You’re going to turn them against me. Like your mother did to you and your father.” His voice dripped with disgust.
“Don’t bring my parents into this. This has nothing to do with them and everything to do with the fact that you have an anger problem and you refuse to get help.”
“What’ll you tell the kids?”
She shrugged. “Ella won’t understand. She’s too young. Colton’s getting too old for me to keep making excuses for you. He’s almost a teenager.”
Wesley didn’t answer.
“You know what he said to me last night, Wesley? He said you love being angry more than you love being with us. He’s right, isn’t he?”
She stormed out of his office without waiting for a reply. She already knew the answer.
That evening, Wesley packed two suitcases.
“I’ll be staying at The Fairmont McDonald. I still love you, Becca.”
His actions had stunned her. She’d been prepared to take the kids to Kelly’s. She was even ready for Wesley to try to hurt her. What she hadn’t expected was his easy submission. Or that for once he’d take the high road.
“You’re leaving?” she said, shocked.
“That’s what you wanted,” he said with a shrug. “So that’s what you get.”
For a second, she wanted to tell him she’d made a mistake. That she didn’t want a separation. That she’d be a better wife, learn to be more patient, learn to deal with his rages.
Then she remembered the bruises and sprains. “Good-bye, Wesley.”
“For now.”
She’d watched him climb into his car and waited until the taillights winked, then disappeared. Then she let out a long, uneasy breath and headed down the hallway. She wandered through their bedroom and into the en suite bathroom, all the while trying to think of the good times. There weren’t many.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, one finger tracing the small scar along her chin. Wesley had given her that present on Valentine’s Day two years earlier. He’d accused her of flirting with the UPS delivery guy.
“You deserve better,” she said to her reflection. “So do the kids.”
Now, sitting two seats away from Wesley at the arena, Rebecca realized that her husband was still doing everything in his power to control her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“You’re wasting your money.”
“What money? You get most of it.”
“That’s for the kids, Wesley, and you know it.”
She dug her fingernails into her palms. Don’t fight with him. Not here. Not in front of Ella.
She caught his eye. “Next time Colton has a game, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother showing up.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He gave her an icy smile. “That’s my son down there.”
“What part of ‘scheduled visits’ don’t you―”
Cheers erupted from the stands as both hockey teams skated out onto the ice and joined their goalies. Everyone stood for the national anthem, then a horn blasted.
Rebecca released a heart-heavy sigh.
The game was on.
After the game, the arena parking lot was a potpourri of car exhaust and refinery emissions, and a breeding ground for irritation. Everyone wanted to be first out. Especially the losing team.
Rebecca was glad she’d parked her Hyundai Accent down the street.
“Mommy, are we going home now?” Ella asked.
“Yes, honey. It’s almost supper time.”
“Is Daddy coming home too?”
“No, honey. Daddy’s going to his own house.”
As they made their way through the parking lot, Rebecca was sure Wesley would veer off toward his van, but he stayed at her side. Doing her best to ignore him, she reached for Ella’s hand as they crossed the street. Behind them, Colton lugged his hockey bag and stick.
When they reached the sedan, Rebecca unlocked the doors, sank into the driver’s seat and started the engine, while the kids said good-bye to their dad. Stepping out, she moved to the back door and wrenched on it, gritting her teeth as it squealed. Colton climbed in back. Ella looked up at her with a hopeful expression.
“Back seat,” Rebecca said.
Ella obediently climbed in beside her brother, and Colton helped her with the seat belt for her booster seat.
Rebecca shut the door using her hip. Catching Wesley’s eye she said, “You always said we should use the sticky door, that if we did it might not stick so much. Hasn’t worked.”
Wesley studied the exterior of the car. “Can’t believe you haven’t bought a new car.”
The Hyundai had seen better days—and today wasn’t one of them. They’d bought the used car back in 2003, when they’d gone from a two-door Supra—Wesley’s toy—to a four-door vehicle that wasn’t so “squishy,” as the kids had called the Supra. The red paint was now worn in places, the hinges of the trunk groaned when lifted and the back door on the passenger side stuck all the time, making it impossible for either of the kids to open. The latter was a result of an accident. Wesley had been sideswiped by a reckless teen texting on her cell phone. Or at least that’s the story he’d given her.
“This works fine,” she said. “I don’t need a new one.” And I can’t afford one.
Colton cracked the door open and poked his head out. “Dad said he’s getting me a cell phone for my birthday next month. One that does text messaging.”
Rebecca shut the car door and turned icy eyes in Wesley’s direction. “You what?”
“Before you say anything, hear me out. Colton’s old enough to be responsible for a phone. Besides, I’m taking care of it, bills and all. When he’s old enough to get a job, he’ll take over paying for it.”
“I told you a while ago that I do not agree with kids walking around glued to a cell phone. It’s ridiculous.” She walked around to the driver’s side.
“What if there’s an emergency and Colton needs to call one of us?” he asked, following her.
“Then he uses a phone nearby or has an adult call us. It’s not like he’s driving any―”