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“Joey, you better go put your bags by the door,” I tell him as he sprints out of the room.
I take a break from laundry and head downstairs to make sure they are all ready to go. The less time I have to spend with Judd, the better.
Chris sits by the door, playing on one of his handheld video games.
“Is your stuff all packed?” I ask.
All I get is a nod.
I’m not sure how much of his attitude is just being an obnoxious teenager and how much of it is him still mad about the divorce. It’s been a year since our split was finalized, but we were separated for a while before that. I think Chris has always partially blamed me for not trying harder. Maybe I should defend myself and tell him that it was his dad who ultimately walked out on me. But what good would that do? Chris lived with two married parents for over ten years, and then, his whole life got turned upside-down. Why make that worse?
And putting him between his father and myself is never fair. One day, he will see the truth on his own.
Hopefully.
I grab the small pile of laundry that has somehow accumulated by the front door and carry it to the living room. Before I get too far, I hear Chris call my name.
Well, hemumblesmy name.
“Yes?” I look back at him.
“Can I take this to my dad’s?” He asks without looking up.
I know he’s referring to his video game. “Chris, you already know the answer. It’s the same as every other time you’ve asked me.”
“I don’t get what the big deal is.”
The big deal is that I spent every spare cent I had to buy that game for him for his birthday. I don’t want anything happening to it while he is over there. I sure as heck know Judd wouldn’t offer to replace it.
Not wanting to have this conversation for the twentieth time, I give him a stern, “Christopher.”
I get a heavy sigh and an eye roll, but he drops it.
A knock on the door causes Charlie, our three-legged Beagle, to let out a couple long howls. The second I open the door, though, he runs to the other side of the room to hide. My boys found Charlie out in front of our house after he was hit by a car. After trying like crazy to find his owners, the kids finally convinced me to keep the poor thing. I was hesitant at first, especially with the vet bills, but it didn’t take me long to cave. He’s been the best boy ever since. To anyone that’s not us, though, he’s extremely skittish. Rightfully so.
I open the door enough for Judd to step through. Immediately, he looks me up and down, examining my ripped jeans, tie-dye shirt, and messy bun. He purses his lips in disapproval.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “Something you want to say, Judd?”
With an arrogant smirk, he replies, “Just wondering if it’s laundry day.”
The smug look on his face shows that he is way too proud of that jab.
“Judd, there are three boys living here.Everyday is laundry day.”
I think it’s a witty comeback, but the way Judd’s jaw clenches, I can tell that he doesn’t think so. My stomach instantly forms into a knot, waiting for him to start spewing venom. That’s what Judd does when he gets mad. A nervous fear washes over me as I prepare for the backlash.
Judd was never violent with me. I never worried about him putting his hands on me, but the psychological warfare he brought to the table was enough to give me ulcers for the final years of our marriage. I found myself willing to do anything to keep him happy so that I didn’t have to endure all the insults and harsh words he would sling at me. After a while, though, nothing made him happy. He looked for excuses to get mad.
Not wanting to argue in front of the kids, I open my mouth to try to smooth things over, but the kids appear, all ready to go.
They each give me a hug and tell me they love me on their way out the door. Judd stands there, impatiently sighing.
How is it that this guy that used to be so head-over-heels in love with me turned out to be such a narcissistic jerk? He went from being crazy about me to hating everything that I was.
Thankfully, he doesn’t linger once the kids are out the front door. But he feels the need to get in one final jab before he leaves. “For God’s sake, Erin, take a shower. You look like hell.”
I shut the door behind him and lean against it, trying to breathe through the panic that had begun to set in. I’m not even married to the man anymore, and I still let him get under my skin. I know I shouldn’t, but a fifteen-year-long habit is a hard one to break.
