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Shawn was always a generous lover, and when he was inside me, it wasn’t just sex. Yes, he would take me hard and fast every other time, but there was still genuine emotion behind it and was something I never took for granted. That’s probably why it hurt so much when he could no longer stand the sight of me.
The door closing downstairs pulls me from my own personal torment to throw me into the bowels of hell. My heart pounds as I hear his footsteps cross the kitchen. I listen so closely, I can almost predict his every step. Dropping the mail on the counter—which hasn’t been checked in over a week because he hasn’t been home—he moves to the bar behind the sofa and pours himself a vodka on the rocks. And then, finally, he takes the stairs two at a time. I see him before he reaches the bedroom, the faint light from the street bright enough to show him unbuttoning his shirt. He enters the room leaving the light off. He won’t be able to see me. I’m shrouded in the shadows of night, sitting in the wing-backed chair in the corner of the room. I watch as he removes his shirt, the silver glow caressing his muscled chest and back.
I miss touching him.
I miss him touching me.
He’s a lying bastard!
Shawn flicks on the bathroom light, its warmth now illuminating me. He catches my face staring back at him in the mirror and spins around, eyes wide with shock.
“Hello, husband.”
“Jesus… fuck, Blythe. You scared the shit outta me.”
“Because you don’t expect to see your wife in her own home?”
“No, because you’re sitting there like the fucking Godfather.”
Oh how I wish I could make you swim with the fishes right now.
“Where have you been, Shawn?”
His shoulders straighten, a sign he’s already on the defense. “I told you. Work. More to the point, where the fuck have you been? I don’t owe you an explanation as to my whereabouts when you’re the one who left our marital home.”
“Let’s not go through this again, Shawn. We both know why I left and it’s because you broke our marriage a year ago, so spare me the guilt because it doesn’t lie with me.”
“We could have worked it out, Blythe. You didn’t have to leave.”
“I tried working it out but my husband wanted nothing to do with me. But that’s not actually why I’m here. Had I known you were going to be a lying, cheating bastard, I would have left much earlier and ensured all our affairs were in order.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how you’ve drained our joint account, maxed out the credit card, and re-mortgaged the house… all without my written consent.”
I hear him sharply inhale.
Did he never expect me to find out?
Did he think he wouldn’t be caught?
“What you’ve done is illegal, Shawn.”
He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face, a trait I’m seeing more of lately. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We have no more money left for you to take.”
Again, he shakes his head. “Not that. Look, Blythe… it’s not what it seems—”
“When were you going to tell me you quit your job at Usher and Gainsburg? It’s already been a year, so I’m taking a stab in the dark that you were never actually planning on telling me. The same as you were never planning on telling me you’ve defrauded every dollar we shared. Or is that why you’ve stolen all this money, because you can’t meet repayments? Do you even have a job? Why do you dress in a shirt and tie every day? Is this some kind of fucked-up Girl on the Train bullshit? Keeping up appearances that you still work?”
“Your mouth is good for a lot of things, babe, but right now you gotta shut it.”
One side of me wants to smile at his comment, the other side wishes I could throat punch the fucker.
When I don’t say another word, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.” I know I’ve fucked up, Blythe, and I know I have a lot of unanswered questions and you deserve to know everything—”
“So, tell me. Tell me what the fuck is going on. Because the Shawn I married is not the Shawn sitting in front of me right now.”
“I can’t tell yo—”
“This is bullshit!” I go to stand, but his bark has become as bad as his bite. Another side of Shawn I haven’t yet seen until now.
“Sit the fuck down, Blythe. Just sit down and listen.”
Again, I do as he says. Not because I’m an obeying wife, but because for once, I might actually get some answers.
“I do have explanations for every single accusation you can throw at me. But…” he pauses, the words to follow tinged with remorse, “but none of them will save us. If anything, they will tear us further apart.
