Page 49 of If I Didn’t Have You

“Not me. You! I can’t stand to wake up one more morning next to you and hear you grumble about how upset you are. Do you realize in the past five years, I haven’t seen you laugh once? You don’t smile. You’re constantly in a bad mood. I don’t think there’s anything about life you even like anymore!”

“Because I lost the very soul of this place!”

“You lost yourself!” she shouted. “And when the cattle left, part of you left with them. But Ben, this is life, and we can’t just mourn what we used to have forever. We need to move on. We need to find some peace.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Finding peace?”

“I’m trying to make myself happy again.”

“Without me.”

“Not without you.” She sighed heavily, shoving her fingers through her tangled hair. “For now.”

I didn’t understand. “What?”

“I need you to leave for now.” Tear-filled eyes met mine again. “I need you to go.”

That pain in my chest sliced me wide open as I realized what she was saying. “You want a divorce.”

A sob ripped from her throat as the tears overflowed down her cheeks. “No,” she gasped. “I don’t want a divorce. I just…need time. I need space from you.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, barely able to speak. “You don’t love me anymore.”

“I do love you. I just don’t like you anymore.”

I wasn’t sure that was any better. Stumbling back a step, I gazed around my house, my own eyes filling with tears as I realized that the last of what I had was being ripped away from me. My wife didn’t want me around. My kids looked at me like I was a stranger.

And all the happiness that was once in this house was long gone.

“Ben…”

“I’ll go,” I answered gruffly, afraid that if I didn’t leave now, I would fall to my knees and beg her to take me back, to say that she still loved me and needed me.

But I was not a man who groveled. If she didn’t want me here, then I would leave. She could have the house, the whole damn property. Hell, I’d give her everything.

Not because I was angry, but because no matter how much she didn’t like me anymore, I was still one hundred percent in love with her.

I just didn’t know how to show it anymore.

15

CLARA

I scrubbed the breakfast pan as the omelette I made sat on the table, waiting for Ben.

I wasn’t sure why I made it, why I would even put in the effort after I told him to leave. Like the good husband he was, he put up no further argument and walked out. I didn’t dare pull the curtains aside to watch him go, afraid that I would run out there and beg him to stay.

But that couldn’t happen. What we had didn’t work anymore, and as long as we ignored our problems, they would only get worse. So, kicking him out seemed like the logical solution.

Until I went to bed last night and slept alone in the house for the first time in years. Silence greeted me with every hour that passed. The smallest creak or groan sent me flying from the bed, wondering if he had come back home to me. Finally, I broke down at four in the morning to see if his truck had returned. When I found his spot empty, I knew he’d taken me seriously.

He was gone, and I should be happy about that, relieved that I finally had some space to think about what I wanted out of life. But kicking the man I love out of the house didn’t actually bring the joy and happiness that I expected to feel.

Instead of getting the satisfaction of a scorned wife, I felt alone and entirely helpless, and I’d never felt helpless in my life.

So, I came down here this morning and made his breakfast, thinking maybe it would conjure him and bring him home.

The pan was clean. There wasn’t a speck of egg or burned cheese in it. Yet, I kept scrubbing, kept hoping that would somehow change things. And the longer I stood there, the harder it was to keep the tears at bay.