"Do you still love me?"
Joanna's voice rippled through the silence of the evening. We'd been sitting in our bed, moments from turning our bedside lights off, when her query took the breath from within me. There was no conversation that led up to the question and we hadn't had a dispute in months. Not only was I floored by her need to even ask, I was confused to what brought it up in the first place. It was just a regular Tuesday evening.
I turned to my wife of ten years searching for any clues I could find. Nothing was out of place. As she did every night for the past ten years, she had been reading before bed. She was sitting up, blankets bunched around her waist, with nothing out of the ordinary. The contrast in character presented by the combination of her silk nightgown and reading glasses had always been adorable to me, and tonight was no different. No different aside from the fact that she had been crying. Her eyes were clamped shut, tears clumping her lashes together.
My heart constricted immediately. It's rather difficult to put into words all the things that ran through my mind in the three seconds it took for me to find my voice. I wondered how long she'd been crying and how I was able to sit right beside her without the slightest suspicion of her temperament. I questioned if she still loved me or if this was her way of hinting at a divorce. I thought back to every good time we'd had together and if I could even take care of myself without her being here.
"Of course!" I nearly shouted. "Joanna, darling, what's going on?"
I heard the slight hiccup in the back of her throat. That small croaking sound that let me know she had been trying to suppress her sobs for a while now and my heart continued to shatter. In that single moment I became very aware of how I'd failed my wife. I didn't know what exactly I did, but something or the lack of something had made her doubt my affections for her. I hadn't told her enough, supported her enough, or provided for her enough. Somehow, I had let her get to the point where she had to ask and that killed me inside.
I could hear the shred of control she hung on to while she continued with her inquiry. "Are you cheating on me?"
"God, no!" This time I did shout. "Baby, please believe me when I say that I have never laid a hand on another woman. You're all I could ever want, all that I need. Jo, please," I pleaded with her.
By this time, I had turned on the bed, desperate to meet her gaze, to convince her that everything I said was true. I reached for her hands but she pulled them away from me. I tried to move in closer, but she only turned her back to me. I felt like I was poisonous or something. She countered every one of my advances with a retreat. How was I going to comfort and reassure her if I couldn't touch her?
I watched with an aching heart as she flicked the lamp on her nightstand off and lay down. I heard the clink of her reading glasses being set down and felt the mattress give as she shifted into a comfortable position. Of course she was facing away from me, curled into a helpless little ball on the edge of the bed. I wanted so badly to reach out for her, but I didn't want to risk her leaving either. The last thing I could handle would be the sight of her walking out the door, so I settled down myself.
The lump that had gathered in my throat wouldn't swallow. Ten years I had shared a bed with this woman, ten happy years. We had a home. We had a bright future together. I was certain that Joanna made me a better man. She had always been my support, my rock during the hard times. She'd also been that laughter and love that I required to get through each and every day. What was going on?
After a fitful sleep, I was awoken by Joanna. She placed a cup of coffee on my nightstand like she did every morning and waltzed into the bathroom to fix her hair. I heard the mug hit the coaster and my eyes shot open. I had expected our normal routine to be anything but. Joanna, however, appeared to be unfazed by the inconclusiveness of the night before.
"Thanks, baby," I yawned. I sat up in bed and soaked in the sight of her, much like I did every morning. She would be turning thirty-two in September and somehow she managed to look more beautiful now than she had the first day I laid eyes on her. Half dressed in her work trousers and bra, she brushed and styled her hair. She had those bountiful breasts of hers supported by the baby blue demi bra I'd purchased for her earlier this year, and had the events of the night been anything else, I would've slid up behind her to run a string of kisses along her shoulder.
Last night, while lying sleepless in bed, I'd come to the conclusion that if Jo left, I'd just break. There wasn't a single aspect of my life that could continue on without her. I've heard many stories about couples marrying young and growing apart as they aged, but I was certain that we had been the exception. Jo was made to fill every void, fix every fault, and sooth every ailment I could ever have. I had always thought so. Always. The thought of losing that better half of me was eating me up inside and I knew something had to be done. I had to do something.
Jo left the house before me, making little small talk as we both got prepared for the day ahead of us. I watched her for most of the morning, trying to quiet the fears that told me she wouldn't be coming home to me this evening. I ended up dragging my feet into the front door of my office ten minutes late and with my heavy heart in tow.
I work for a realtor office. I get paid to update the online listings of each home, manage the three websites that run out of the office, and do most everything a normal IT person would. It's nothing fancy, but it's served me just fine for the past five years and I've given no thought to any change. Normally, my office is a quiet, relaxing place. It's an old, remolded home now furnished with cubicles and offices. My cubicle sits in the middle of the building so I get to watch the realtors parade their clients around, only an arm's length away should anyone need me.
Today, I tried my hardest to ignore each happy couple purchasing a home. I ignored each greeting bestowed on me by my coworkers. What would it all mean if Jo left me? The sight of each couple would only make me bitter and each greeting would be laced with so much sympathy that I wouldn't be able to stomach it.
"What the hell, Mark?" a stern shout interrupted my pity party. I looked up to see Penny, the youngest and probably the most abrasive realtor that the company had ever hired. She looked cross. "I've been trying to get your attention for twenty minutes now and you've done nothing but sit there looking sad. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Penny had always had a straightforwardness that I always appreciated. She never lied, never beat around the bush, and always made her intentions clear. I knew she meant well despite sounding a little harsh. Penny had also been like a kid sister to me since she was hired on. She was always under foot and always prying into my life.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's Jo. I think she wants to leave me."
Penny sat on the edge of my desk while I retold everything that had happened the night prior. I told her how I felt about my wife and how I would be nothing without her. I told Penny everything my wife was to me and every fear that had surfaced since the small conversation took place. She just sat there listening for the longest time, letting me get it all out of my system. When I had finished, I looked up to see a smug little smile playing across her face.
