Turning Point: When a woman let's go

The reflection in the mirror was reassuring.  I sat at the edge of the bed and tapped my left foot.  I was calm and I anticipated the unavoidable encounter with my husband.  I took in a deep breath and brushed away the nappy curl that caressed my right eyelid and noticed that there were no tears.   

I heard the rumble of keys at the front door.  I had a direct view from my room and I saw the knob turn.  I jumped up.  “You better be sure this is what you want, because I’m not coming back this time.  I’ve had it!”  My husband spoke these words as he stormed toward me with his arms stretched out in an attempt to grab me.

“That would be the nicest thing you’d ever done for me, you bastard!” I pulled my hair back as I spoke and tied up the curls in a ponytail holder as if I were getting ready for a fight.

“What is it this time?  Why is all my stuff outside in garbage bags?”

“Please, don’t insult me.  Your lies are not going to get you outta this one.”  I pushed past him and walked into the living room.  He followed behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?”  He stood face to face with me.  I stared at his full lips and the goatee, which I always found attractive on him. 

“Shut up!  I have proof this time.  I know about the girl from the Bronx.”

“Who told you?  What!  They’re lying.  I swear to God I will break their face.  Who was it?”

“Nobody told me.  I just know and I want you out now!  It’s over.” 
 
“Remember what I said.  I will not come back this time.”

“You can’t come back, because I’m the one who’s had it.  Was there ever a time when you were faithful?  You son of a bitch!  I wasted thirteen years of my life waiting for you to grow up and the only things I have to show for it are our two kids.”  In his mind, I would forgive him and take him back.  I had done it at least half a dozen other times.  Why should this time be different?

“Don’t put all the blame on me.  This is more your fault than mine.”

“How the hell is it my fault?  Did I tell you to go sleep around?”

“You’re cold.  You always push me away.  Always busy.”

“Busy taking care of our lives and our kids, asshole.”

“It doesn’t matter now.  It’s over.”

“No, you wait a minute!  It’s over because I said it’s over.”  It was just like Jesse to try to turn this around and make it seem as if this was his decision.  I was drained.  I could not argue anymore.  There was nothing else to be said.  “Look, take your things and leave.  If I find anything else of yours, I’ll be sure to leave it with your mother.”

He reached for my hand but I pulled it back before I could feel his touch. “Flory.  My love,” he said.  “I won’t come back.  This is embarrassing.  Our neighbors must laugh about me each time I come back.  You’ll regret this.  You’re ruining both our lives.”

“Jesse.  I don’t know what will happen after this, but I know that I won’t be fooled by you anymore.  You’ll be fine.  In time, you’ll see that I’m doing us both a favor.”  I said this in an effort to reassure myself more than to console him.
He did not say another word.  He walked toward the front door, grabbed the knob and then turned to look at me.  He wanted me to see him, to see his face, the straight black hair, the puppy eyes, and the slight pucker of his lips.  “Good-bye,” he said.

“Good-bye,” I said.  I thought about the first time I laid eyes on him.  I was fifteen. I heard a whistle and went to see who it was.  I peeked through the curtain in our living room and looked down from our second floor apartment.  Jesse was wearing aviator sunglasses.  He looked up, hands in his pocket and that slight pucker on his lips.  He was gone. 

I went back to my room and stood in front of the mirror.  The emotion that permeated from my gut was not of calmness. I saw sadness and bitterness in my eyes.  I felt I had lost everything.  I hated him for denying me the promise of our wedding vows, for the probability that our two kids would endure a lifetime of depression and therapy, and for making me feel, all those years, that I was not worthy of love. 

My first step to a different and better life took about five minutes.  I would hate to imagine where I would be now if I had not left work right after getting a phone call that confirmed the affair my husband was having.  Even worse, what if I had run out of garbage bags?  Fortunately, life had other plans for me and my mind opened up, swallowed my heart, and when it spit it back out, my mind was clear and my heart was ready to let go. 

When I think about it today, I realize that he was not making a fool of me, I was.  I decided to stay in that situation knowingly.  I was smart, educated, had a respectable job, and yet, I stayed.  I stayed because I was afraid - afraid of being alone. 

Nearly a year went by before I realized that this was a turning point in my life. 

Florencia Ruano
www.awomanslifestages.com