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The room goes silent except for the background music from his paused game. So he knew. He remembered. He simply didn’t care. Maybe I am stupid for wanting to have a celebration. I’m not asking for a party with a bouncy house. Mom always made sure my birthday was a day to remember and with her being sick, the celebration is more meaningful than ever.
He knows that too. We talked about this last year. He promised he’d remember. That was before he started slipping into this version of himself that I’ve come to hate. He’s mean, quick to anger, and I’ve been making myself smaller to avoid conflict.
For what? For a man who can’t even muster up a single happy birthday, baby?
I’ve been fighting the truth for too long. Today, I can’t hide from it. Matt isn’t a good partner. I don’t love him anymore and this is going nowhere. The sex is fine, not mind blowing, but he was supportive when everything happened with Mom getting sick. For that, I held out hope, wishing he’d go back to that guy. That never happened.
Somehow I always end up being the one who gives and gives and gives until I reach a breaking point. When my chest is split open and I have one choice: keep begging to be treated with decency or leave.
It’s hard to reach this point with others around me settling down, but the thought of leaving Matt hurts less than staying. “You know what? You’re right. I’m old enough to know when someone doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s over, Matt.”
“Shut up. You’re not serious. Just sit down and pop a Midol.”
My hands ball at my sides. “That right there is why you will die alone. We could have had something real, Matt. But you’re too self-absorbed to recognize a good thing when you have it.”
“Or maybe you’re too confident. You’re not some trophy wife, Lily.”
I wish those words surprised me, but I’ve gotten used to his insults. No more though. I glare at him. “We’re done.”
His face pinches, jaw clenching. He scoffs. Stares at me. Waits for me to take it back. His features harden when I don’t. “Fine, you want to be done? Get out.”
My head rears back. He can’t be serious. “Excuse me?”
He shrugs, eyes cold. “This is my house. Leave.”
True, but half the stuff in this house is mine. “That’s my TV,” I counter. “I’ll stay in the spare bedroom and leave tomorrow.”
“Like hell you will!” His chest puffs up, and he storms toward me.
I’ve never been afraid of Matt, but the aggression rolling off of him has me taking a step back.
“You want out, Lily? Get the FUCK OUT NOW!” he shouts in my face.
The sheer volume makes me flinch and my heart skips. In that moment, I see what my future would have been. All the hurt, the tears, it all disappears in the wake of his actions. It’s as if someone snipped away the pieces of my heart that still cared for him. Finding my strength, I straighten, refusing to let him turn me into a trembling mouse.
“Fine. Don’t call me when you get drunk and lonely,” I tell him, voice deadly calm. “Don’t call me when you need help with rent, and when you finally get caught drinking and driving, don’t call me to bail you out.”
“Screw you,” he seethes. “Get your shit and leave.”
Shaking my head, I storm to the bedroom and shove clothes and essentials into the suitcase I keep in the closet, hands shaking with frustration. This is complete bullshit. There’s no way I’m staying here with him acting like this, though. I toss in a few pairs of shoes and zip the case up before dragging it out of the bedroom.
Matt is glaring at me so hard I can’t even remember a time when he looked at me with adoration. “Are you done?”
Scoffing, I stop and narrow my eyes. “Right now, you think I’m the problem, but someday, maybe when you’re eighty, you’ll be old and gray and alone. That’ll be your fault.” Though he’d never admit as much.
His scowl deepens.
Before he can insult me again, I turn and stride toward the front door, leaving him in the wake of my anger. Screw him and his stupid games. I grab my purse and reach for my heels, pausing and staring at his work boots. Narrowing my eyes, I grab them alongside my own shoes even though my hands are full. I don’t even bother putting mine on, hauling my suitcase behind me before letting the door slam shut. I march to the trashcan and toss his boots inside.
They land with a thunk. Nodding, satisfaction seeping through my veins, I close the lid. Fuck Matt and his fucking shoes.
It isn’t until I climb into the car that I realize I don’t have anywhere to stay.
I stand in the doorway of my former house, chest aching, as the silence presses against my eardrums. Even though I fell out of love with Matt, the end of our relationship hurts, because now I have no partner. Maybe that’s what I need though. No Matt. No explanations. No fighting to keep my dignity. It’s only me and this half-demoed cabin.
My phone buzzes.
MATT
