ANOTHER'S TREASURE

I made my way to the dining area, hoping...praying, that this was some twisted misunderstanding. But the dining table and chairs were gone too. The place looked like a shell of itself. My feet moved on their own, carrying me up the stairs. Each step heavier than the last. My mind raced trying to find a logical explanation, was there a break-in? Did we get robbed? But how could that be? There wasn't any sign of a break in so how? The bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it open, and what was left of my composure shattered. Our bedroom looked like it had been looted. Drawers stood open, empty. The closet was half bare. My favorite dresses, the ones he always said made me look radiant…gone. The small jewelry box he gave me after our son was born was empty. The only things left were the bed, a cracked old sofa he never let me throw out, and that hideous lamp his mother gave us for Christmas. God knows I hated that lamp. And then I saw it. A single sheet of paper sitting patiently on the bed. White. Folded neatly. Like it had been waiting for me. Of course. He always left notes instead of saying things to my face. Even when he lied, he did it with ink, not words. My hands trembled as I unfolded it. --- "Cynthia, I don’t know where to start. I guess there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. I don’t love you anymore. I haven’t for a long time. And I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep waking up next to you and feeling like I’m suffocating. Your presence irritates me. You irritate me. So many nights, you have no idea how much I fight myself not to place a pillow on you and watch life slowly leave you. I don't hate you but I can't stand you, I can't stand being around you and I can't stand your scent constantly being in the house. I’ve found someone else. She’s everything you’re not. She makes me feel alive. s*x with her is electric. She doesn’t just lie there, she wants me. Needs me. You? You act like a freaking log. We never do anything fun, just stick to the old missionary and then I have to pretend like I don't hear a wailing toddler whenever you moan. So I’m gone. I’ve left the country with her. I sold the furniture, the clothes I bought for you, the gifts we got after the wedding. I took what was mine. I maxed out our joint account. Legally, it’s mine too. You’re my wife, remember? What’s yours is mine. I didn’t take anything that belongs to our son, God that word burns ‘our’. He’s yours now. I can’t even look at him anymore, he looks too much like you. Every time I see his face, it’s like there's two of you and the resemblance drives me mad.. Don’t come looking for me, don't reach out to my family. They know and they're in support. Just move on, I’m done. I hope life treats you better than I did. —Marcus" The note dropped from my hands, landing on my lap like a weight. That’s when I heard the screaming, high-pitched, broken, wild. But I was alone. It took me a moment to realize the sound was coming from me. My hands flew to my mouth as if trying to trap the scream before it could escape again. I brushed my fingers under my eyes, and tears fell. My whole body shook. The room felt too big. And all I could think about was my son. Our 10 -year-old boy. He would be home from school soon. He would walk into this shell of a house and wonder what happened. What would I tell him? That his father left? That he chose someone else? That he looked too much like me to be loved? I didn’t know how long I sat there. The clock on the wall ticked, but time held no meaning to me. What did I do wrong? Where did it all fall apart? And then came the voice. Cold. Cutting. Familiar. "You did this to yourself." "You gave everything to a man who never gave back. You silenced your needs to keep him happy. You abandoned your family to defend him. You let him walk all over you, why? because you thought love meant sacrifice? Bullshit!!." “You babied him, gave him everything. HE DIDN'T HAVE A JOB CYNTHIA!!, you worked day and night to feed him, clothes him, and paid the damn bills. All that for what? Huh?” "You said with that bitchy voice of yours, ‘I love him. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him.’ Well, this is the rest of your life. Is this what you wanted? Is this the future you imagined when you looked at your son’s tiny face for the first time in that hospital room?" The voice was cruel. But it wasn’t lying. If the empty house didn’t break me, those words did. The silence returned, thicker than before. I looked around the room, at the skeleton of what used to be a home, my home. And for the first time since I walked in, I felt something other than grief. I felt rage. Pure rage. Not just at Marcus, but at myself, for trusting him, for loving him more than I loved myself, for believing that being a good wife meant erasing parts of who I was. "Mom?" His hand touched my shoulder. Gentle. And just like that, I was pulled out of my head and back into this cruel confirmation of my thoughts. Mom?” I looked up to find his amber eyes watching me, confused at first then investigative when he saw the dried tears on my face. Jamie was back home and I wasn't prepared to tell him,I couldn't even look him in the eye. “Mom, are you okay?” I couldn't answer right away, I'd forgotten he'd be home soon. I'd forgotten to prepare my lies. Jamie’s gaze dropped to my lap. His eyes narrowed as he reached down and gently pulled the letter from my fingers before I could react. “What’s this?” “Jamie—” He stepped back, reading fast. His brows drew together. Then his jaw tightened. The paper folded in his hands. “He left?” he asked, voice tight. “Just like that?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What could I say? “All of it… the money, everything you trusted him with. He just took off?” I could only nod, the pain gripped my throat again, too tight to speak. His hands curled into fists. It was clear he was enraged, and honestly, who could blame him? “He really just dumped this letter like it would explain everything? Is that what this is supposed to be? An explanation?” His fists folded tighter than before, I could see his anger. Then he let out a breath, and punched the wall beside the door. I jumped, the sound was shocking. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, but his anger hadn't gone away. “He really left us like this? After everything? After all the times I saw you hand him money, tell him not to worry about anything?” My eyes welled up, he knew the things I'd tried desperately to hide from him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think…”