A Marriage Goes South

No sex in this one.

I don't know where it went south with my wife, Liz. We had been married for 25 years as I write this. I'm pretty sure the first ten were good, maybe. And I'm not sure when the snide comments, and the put downs began, especially in front of her friends. Maybe after 20 years our sex life evaporated but I wasn't really complaining. Liz was not aging well, and the excessive drinking and smoking led to significant weight gain. Watching her roll over in bed was pretty horrific on how long it took her stomach to catch up to her shoulders and how the stomach bounced when I finally hit the bed. Maybe it was weight gain or excessive drinking that led to her obnoxious snoring. Whenever I mentioned it to her it was like lighting a stick of dynamite. I moved into the guest room after 20 years of marriage or so.

By my nature, I generally avoid conflict. Which is odd because my job as a forensic accountant involves a lot of conflict. After arguing all day at work, I didn't need that at home.

To maintain my sanity, I was working 60 hours a week plus time at home. If I wasn't working, I would be coaching one of my two sons' soccer teams. If I wasn't on a soccer field, I was busy in the home gym I had put together over a decade. Mostly I kept busy to avoid Liz's verbal abuse and try to maintain my self-esteem.

But life deals you changes. I was 10 years older than Liz and had always planned to retire at 62. All the men in my family died at 65 from heart disease and I was going to enjoy at least some of my retirement benefits. By the time I retired, my boys had aged out of soccer and my coaching days were over.

Now I had more time to spend at the house and with Liz. I am not sure if it was the frequency of the abuse that increased or that during my coaching/working days I had something to divert my attention, but I started pushing back. That just started escalating the cycles. Little comments that I used to ignore became battles. Since the boys were off to college, there was no reason to restrain ourselves.

To further escape Liz, I started hiking. First little day trips, then overnights and expanding to almost a week. I loved being out in the mountains and I loved being away from Liz.

Time apart did not make our hearts grow fonder. It seemed Liz would spend my time away thinking of new slurs for me. The second year of my retirement was even worse.

During my second year of retirement and needing an escape during the winter, I bought a condo in Florida, I should say we bought a condo in Florida. Liz helped me pick it out and she had a field day furnishing and decorating it. I think we actually got along during that time frame. We had all these plans of spending our holidays there and eventually retiring to some place warmer than our current northeast home.

Whatever good feelings from buying the condo were erased months after buying it when a fall hurricane slammed into that area of Florida. Right around Halloween I decided to take a drive down there and assess the damage. My neighbor had reported that the screens on my lanai had been shredded. Thankfully our little neighborhood had been spared most of the damage that appeared on the news. Liz was not happy with me leaving. I tried to explain to her that I really needed to assess any internal damage.

It took two weeks to repair the screens. Fortunately, that was the only damage to my unit. The rest of the area looked like a war zone. I drove home in time to prepare for Thanksgiving. We always hosted both our families. Depending on which nieces and nephews showed up, we could have as many as 30 people in our house. We always prayed for good weather.

Liz was even more obnoxious when I got back. We couldn't agree on anything. We've hosted thanksgiving for a dozen years. Arguing wasn't working so I said fuck it and agreed to whatever she wanted. It seemed to make her angrier.

That thanksgiving was a disaster. We had 28 people in the house, and it was cold outside. Plus, Liz's drug addled nephew brought his dog, a big dog that thought he was a person. I was annoyed that she didn't ask me about it first because she knew I hated dogs.

One thing Liz and I did well together was prepare Thanksgiving dinner. I prepared the turkey and potatoes; Liz did the other sides. We had a well-oiled routine, well-oiled until you threw 100 pounds of hairy dog in the middle of it. By the time dinner was on the table my nerves were fried.

The second part of our well-oiled machine was after dinner dishes and desserts. I rinsed and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher while Liz and I worked getting dessert on the table. The fucking dog was always in the way licking the dishes in the dishwasher and jumping up on the counter trying to eat the desserts we were preparing. I started yelling at the dog, Liz started yelling at me for yelling at the dog. She was talking to me like I was two and I was embarrassed at how she treated me in front of my brother.

I left without saying goodbye to my brother, wife and kids or any of the other people in my house. I started walking and ended up in a bar a few blocks away. It was probably the third or fourth time I was in that bar in the twenty years I lived here and the first time without Liz. Getting drunk was not an option. After a couple of shots of Jack, I nursed a couple of beers for a few hours. Everyone was gone when I got back, my boys were very worried about me, and I assured them I was okay.

I went into the guestroom and packed my bags. The sun was just coming up as I drove back to Florida. I thought Liz was probably tracking my cell or she just didn't care. My sons could also track my phone although they sent me frequent texts asking if I was okay.

After a couple of weeks in the Florida sun I was feeling much calmer and wanted to be home for Christmas. I sent Liz a text telling her I would be home on the 23rd. She said no. Bullshit I said, it's our house. Things got heated. She sent me these long texts detailing every horrible thing I did and how I embarrassed her on thanksgiving. A flurry of texts went back and forth on who embarrassed who.

Then she said, "You left, and you are not free to come and go as you please."

"Fine," I said, "if I can't stay there, I want a divorce, and we can sell the fucking house.

"Fine," she said, "and you can sell the fucking condo."

The divorce was painful for me, she's a fucking bitch and gets half my 401k. Just don't seem fair. But by the next summer we were officially divorced. Liz had until July 31 the following year to sell the family home and there was no timetable for me to sell the condo.

Seven months later:

Liz shocked me, asking to spend a couple of days at the condo so she could talk to me. I said ok, since it was half her house (I had to get that dig in). She was flying down and refused my offer to pick her up at the airport.

After her arrival, we sat across from each other at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in our hands.

"What do you want Liz?"

"I need more time to sell the house. My car died so I had to buy a new one. I would need a three-bedroom apartment, and they start at three grand a month for anything decent."

"I'm okay with that until our youngest is done with school and we can revisit that matter then. The house is paid for, but you'll be responsible for all the cost for the house including taxes and insurance after the July 31st date."

"Thank you, that will still be a lot cheaper than renting something."

She sat there, twirling her wine and I could see her eyes getting glassy.

"Liz, you didn't fly all the way down here to ask me that simple question."

"I came to apologize for the way I treated you."

I grabbed a box of tissues for her, this was the first time she ever apologized to me for anything.

"Do you really think apologizing now is going to change anything?"

"No. When you weren't home for Christmas my sister ripped into me. 'Almost every woman in our circle wished they had a husband like yours and you drove him away. And for what, you put my son and his dog above your husband. You're a fucking idiot.' She insisted I get some serious counseling."

"I took her advice. The counselor took me through my relationship with you. Every question she asked me elicited a positive answer, a perfect father who always took care of our boys, coaching, setting a positive role model, even though you had a highly stressful job. Anytime we had an event you were always at my side, preparing the food and washing the dishes. We weren't rich but there was always money for the things we needed, and you always provided great vacations every year. I don't think you put on an extra pound the twenty something years we were together."

"But I knew all that before counseling because my friends would always remind me. I was frequently accused of robbing the cradle even though you were 10 years older than me. The comments on how physically fit you were during our summer barbecues by the pool. My girlfriends all wished they had a husband like you when we put on an event. The fantastic job you did landscaping the backyard. That list goes on and on. Instead of being thankful, it made me jealous, that's the word my counselor used."

"Before you retired, my girlfriends always teased me that you may stray since going into your late fifties you were still a hottie. I told them there was no chance, I always knew where you were."

"And then when you retired, my friends who worshipped you only a month earlier turned against you. You should have become my house husband, keeping the house clean, doing my laundry and having dinner on the table every night. Then once you started on your weeklong hiking trips, they were convinced you were cheating on me, who goes hiking in the mountains by themselves for a week, they asked. I let them turn me against you."

"Along with that were the normal things a woman goes through. Menopause. The breasts were sagging, the wrinkles were coming, I was the one getting a spare tire. Men no longer checked me out, I was invisible as they tried to look around me to see some hottie."

"According to the counselor, to address my lack of self-esteem, I had to tear you down. The counselor went through how I treated you. Listening to me telling her the things I said horrified me. And you still bought me roses."

"Why are we going through this Liz, it can't be undone."

"Please wait, it gets worse. The second year when you started your week-long hiking trips, I went to the bar at the end of that block. I did my makeup all up, had a nice sundress on and began to get hammered. I was thrilled with all the male attention I got. I ended up going with a guy back to his house and letting him fuck me along with some other things. I was disgusted with myself, the sex sucked, but I was thrilled that someone found me desirable. I did the same thing two more times that summer. After the last time, I realized it wasn't me that they found desirable, but I was just a warm hole that they could stick their dick in."

"It left me hating myself and hating you more because if you weren't you, I would never have done anything. God, I hated you so much. I know I made your life hell. The final act was how I embarrassed you on Thanksgiving."

Liz emptied her wine glass, and I refilled it. I didn't know what to think. Liz's infidelity didn't bother me as much as I thought it would and what would that anger get me? I was enjoying the good life in Florida even though I had no interest in the cougars who flirted with me every day.

"Liz, is this supposed to make me feel better about things?"

"Not really, the act of confession is supposed to make me feel better according to my counselor. One more shot of verbal abuse, I guess. You do not seem as angry as I thought you would be."

"What would be the point, I'm not happy about it but the way you treated me over the last dozen years, your infidelity wouldn't make the top ten."

"I deserve that," she said.

"Is there anything else Liz? Because after that bomb I want to go to bed and looking at you now is upsetting my stomach."

She really started crying hard and managed to whisper, "One more thing please before you go to bed."

We sat there looking at our wine glasses and she finally looked up and said, "I have breast cancer, stage 3. I'm going to lose my left breast and probably my right."

Then she started sobbing uncontrollably. I hurried to the other side of the table and lifted her into my arms, she buried her head in my shoulder and continued to sob. Two minutes ago, I hated her with every cell in my body and now I was holding her in my arms.

"I need you. You have always been my rock, even when I hated you. I do not know if I can survive this without you by my side. Please come home with me."

We sat down on the couch after standing in the kitchen for minutes or hours, I don't know. After sitting on the couch for a few minutes, Liz put her head in my lap and was snoring seconds later. I sat there, looking at my reflection in the TV wondering what the fuck I was going to do. When presented with significant decisions in my life, I always tried to choose the option that was the right thing to do, not what I wanted to do. Liz knew that about me.

Part of me wanted to kick Liz to the curb. I think that's why she told me about her infidelities, so that she wasn't holding anything back when I made my decision. Of course there was only one option I could choose.

Eventually I was able to slide out from under Liz and slide a pillow under her head. I grabbed a blanket and covered her before going to bed. Funny how I tossed and turned before fully deciding whether to go home with her or not.

When I got up, Liz was no longer on the couch. I was wondering if she left until I found her sleeping in the guest room. After making coffee and getting out the ingredients for some omelets, I gently woke her up telling her breakfast would be ready soon.

After she sat at the table, I said, "I'm not going to go back with you Liz. I'm sorry you have cancer but you were a cancer to my self-esteem, my happiness, my sense of wellbeing. It took months with my own counselor to understand why had thoughts of suicide so frequently. I know you would promise never to treat me that way again, but it's in your nature, it comes so easily to you. You would eventually fall back into your old habits, and that would cause my cancer to consume me. I can't take that risk to my own mental health."

She looked into my eyes, and I swore the old Liz flashed before my eyes, the sharp tongued Liz ready with some barb. And then her shoulders softened when she realized my prediction had come true except she was able to keep her mouth shut this time.

"When did I become such an evil woman, death is knocking at my door and I'm a fucking bitch, I've been a fucking bitch and knew I was a fucking bitch but everybody else had to suck it up."

"You lying to yourself, everybody else didn't have to suck it up, since I was the almost exclusive target of your nastiness, I had to suck it up. As to your original question, I believe your bitchiness arose after our tenth anniversary."

"So, for over half our marriage, you put up with me being a fucking bitch?"

"I had my distractions, my career, my boys, their teams. I moved into the guest room and once the boys were away at school, I started spending more of my time here or away from you. That Thanksgiving was the end date."

"You could have found someone else in the last ten years."

"Liz, do you hear the words you're speaking, you're a fucking bitch under the best of circumstances. Imagine if I left you for another woman. But more importantly, you had already destroyed everything in me that was me. My priorities were fully focused on the boys, their well being and getting them started on the right foot. Imagine if one or both of them became your new focus. I couldn't take that risk."

"Do you really think I'm that evil?"

We sat there, staring at each other over the cold remains of our breakfast until Liz shifted her gaze out the window. After cleaning up the dishes, I went for a walk. She was gone when I got back.

Liz died six months later. I flew back to support my boys who took it really hard.

After the funeral, Liz's sister caught up with me.

"Liz told me she was flying to Florida in hopes you would come back with her. I told her I was praying you wouldn't. She barely spoke to me or our brother after she came back and she never gave us any updates on her condition. It was your sons that told us she was in hospice care and back in your house. I visited her at your house and she told me she turned down any cancer treatments, no surgery, no chemo, nothing. All she would allow were pain treatments. I don't know what was said while she was in Florida, she never spoke of it, but maybe she finally realized how badly she treated you. In her last days she gave me this letter for you."

I never read the letter, I didn't see a point, it sits in a pile of stuff from my old house with all the love letters she sent me during our early years.

Cold and afraid, the ghosts of all we been... (The Cure 2024)