Merry Christmas Patty

Patrick sat in his favorite chair; the same chair he'd been sitting in for the past five years. It was a Christmas gift from his ex-wife.

Who gives a recliner as a Christmas gift?

But she knew him so well. She knew him well enough to know that this recliner would be the perfect gift for him, even if it was a stupid gift for anyone else. It was so comfortable, almost like it was specifically made for him. The cup holders were great for holding whatever he was drinking. The Bluetooth speakers on either side of the headrest made him feel like he was bathing in sound. And with the feet kicked up, he'd fallen asleep many nights on it.

This chair was the only thing he had left from his previous life. His daughter was staying with her in the house he was banished from, along with the dog he bought her as a Christmas gift. A dog that

he

did most of the walking, bathing, and feeding for. All she did was snuggle him.

He sighed. His first Christmas alone. Just him and his chair.

His cell phone rang. A perplexed look fell on his face when he saw who was calling him. Throwing a quick glance towards the clock on the opposite wall, he saw the dying minutes of the longest Christmas Eve he'd ever experienced.

Should he even answer? He could just let it...go to voicemail. But the curious masochist part of him was drawn to it. It was that scab you can't help picking at.

"Hello Kendra." He said when he picked up.

"Hey Patty."

Her voice still held the same sadness it always did when they talked lately. Yet, it was mixed with the sweetness he'd always known.

There was a moment of silence between them. It wasn't empty though. It was filled with 15 years of memories, both happy and sad.

Patrick finally broke it with, "I honestly didn't expect to hear from you this year."

"Why not?" she asked softly. "We promised to always be the first to wish each other a Merry Christmas, no matter what. You remember?"

He scoffed at that. "Because keeping promises are your thing...right?"

"Patrick..."

"You're right. My bad. Water under the bridge."

They paused again, giving her a chance to accept his apology. She was the first to speak this time. "Sooooo...you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Not really. Other than giving Jessi her gift when you bring her tomorrow and getting some dinner at my folk's house. What about you?"

"Nothing really." She said, though they both knew that was a lie. Patrick thought about letting that sit unchallenged, but he couldn't help himself.

Those damn scabs.

"So, you're not doing anything with...what's his name?"

She sighed. Hearing him mention her boyfriend, even though he didn't say his name, was like dumping a bucket of icy water on her. "You mean Sean?" she said, completing his tactical shot at her.

"Yeah...Sean."

He tried, but he wasn't able to hide the bitterness from his voice. Just saying that asshole's name made him need a Tums. Patrick couldn't help reliving that moment. Actually, it was more than a moment. It was an hour. A full hour of reading those fucking text messages and detailing her 2-year affair. Each one ripping more of his heart out. By the final one, all that was left was an empty pit in the middle of his chest.

Kendra gave a sad sigh. "Well, if you must know, we're going up to his parents' house when we drop Jessi off."

"How quaint."

A tear slipped down Kendra's cheek. Patrick couldn't see this, of course. Not from his side of the phone. He probably wouldn't have noticed if she were standing right in front of him, though. He was busy feeling his own turmoil.

Lashing out, Kendra spit out, "I don't know why you sound so pissed. It's not like you care, anyway. YOU threw ME away, remember?"

That only made him laugh aloud. How she always managed to turn everything around on him was a gift. If she had a superpower, it would be projection. And not Astro Projection, which would actually be a cool power. No, hers was simply good old fashioned not taking responsibility for anything.

"What's so funny?" she asked angrily. "Why don't you ever take me seriously?"

"Because you're full of shit, Kendra. That's why."

"I'm full of shit?! I'm full of shit?!"

"Yes!" he said, still sounding slightly amused. "I threw YOU away? Really? Sooooo...the 2-year affair had nothing to do with it? All those times you sat next to me, watching movies with me, but texting him

had nothing to do with it? That fucking three-day weekend you...ahem...

flew out to take care of your sick mother..."

"I GET IT!" she shrieked into his ear, interrupting his tirade. She was right to do so because he had plenty more ammunition.

"Do you, Kendra? Do you really get it?"

By now, her tears had reached her voice. Her next breath came out ragged, like she was fighting back a cry.

"Yes, I get it! I fucked up, Patty. I fucked up big time. I was selfish, I took you for granted, I destroyed our family...I get it. I wake up every morning to a daughter who hates me. I walk around in a house that feels empty without you. And every night, when I lay down, all I can think about is..."

"Don't...you...fucking...dare!"

As much as Patrick was fighting to keep his cool, those walls were breaking down. Why couldn't he hold it together? Why was she still able to bring him to this point?

"Don't I dare...what, Patty? Tell the truth? Why? You can't handle the truth?"

She was hoping for a chuckle, or a snicker, or at least a thaw in him. "A Few Good Men" was both of their favorite movie. They found that little tidbit out on their first date. Made love before the ending credits on their second.

But it didn't thaw him. Quite the opposite. All it did for Patrick was reiterate how much she threw away for some fuck nut she met on the internet.

Coldly, he took another shot at her. "I handle the truth just fine. It just sucks when I have to go searching for it because my wife does nothing but lie to me."

Ouch.

That one broke her. She was no longer able to keep her crying silent. A sob came from her, and then more.

Patrick couldn't help but to feel her. Not feel for her, feel

her

. Even a year of being separated, his heart still beat to the same tune hers did. He could picture her, over there in the living room they used to share. Right now, she was in that old, frayed robe she loved so much because it was comfy and reminded her of her mother. That robe was covering her boxers and T-shirt.

That was another funny private joke between them. Whenever he had to go out of town for work, she'd wear a pair of his boxers to bed. It was a way of him always keeping "Kitty safe".

Bet she wasn't wearing his boxers when she spent that weekend with asshole. Probably wasn't wearing much at all.

"I'm so sorry, Patty." She said between sobs. "How many times do I have to say it? Huh? How long will it take for you to finally forgive me?"

In a sad voice, he said, "I'll forgive you when I finally stop loving you, Kendra. Because maybe then, the pain will be gone. Maybe then this fucking...hole in my chest will be gone. Maybe I could get some sleep without seeing that text where you said you loved him. Maybe..."

It was Patrick's turn now. His pain couldn't be held in any longer. A sob, louder than hers, sprung forth from him. He put his hand to his eyes, as if that would serve as a dam for his tears.

Kendra's heart hurt with him. She wanted to hold him, to kiss his forehead and pull him into her breasts as his tears wet her shirt.

"Patty..."

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STOP CALLING ME THAT!" He roared suddenly into the phone.

She snapped shut. She had to remember that she couldn't be the one to comfort him if she was the one to hurt him. It sucked so much, but that was how it was. It was their reality.

"Patrick..." she said carefully. "How long are you going to torture us? Can't you see that you aren't only punishing me? You're punishing Jessi, and you're torturing yourself. I know you're angry with me. I get it. You should be. But that's why we need marriage counseling. Maybe if we..."

Cutting her off, his voice was strangely demure as he said, "But...you're with him, Kendra."

She instantly stopped talking.

"I mean...you just said that you're driving up to meet his parents, right? That's a milestone in any relationship. How long after we separated did you wait until you ran up to where he was? A week? A month?"

He paused, and she didn't fill the silence because they both knew that she drove up to him the next night. She dropped Jessi off with him because she wanted him to "spend time with his daughter". She even made some big, sanctimonious speech, congratulating herself for not being one of those cold-hearted bitches who would "keep a child away from her father".

Continuing, he said, "I don't understand you. I don't get how, after everything we'd been through, you could think so little of us...so little of me. We had 12 years of being married. We have a 9-year-old daughter together. You were there for me at my brother's funeral when he was shot in the line of duty. You held me and cried with me. And I was there at your mother's funeral when she finally passed from cancer. After ALL THAT, you not only cheat on me, but run up to be with him the moment the ink is dry on our separation agreement. And now, you wanna call me talking about some marriage counseling? Fuck you, Kendra!"

Kendra let out another cry. This one didn't affect Patrick the same as the last one.

Yes, Kendra was selfish. She'd always been. It was a not well-hidden fact that Patrick loved her more than she loved him. That's not to say that she didn't love him, because she did. But the dynamic of their marriage was always "happy wife, happy life".

The two of them never even realized it; that is, until it was too late. Patrick was raised to cherish his wife above all others. He took pride in being one of "the good ones". He didn't cheat on his wife. He never laid a hand on her. If they argued, he was quick to apologize, even if he wasn't wrong. If he hurt her feelings, that was wrong enough.

Was this a wrong attitude for a man to take in a marriage? No. Every man should treat his wife like she is the only woman in the world. But what Patrick failed to do was create balance. He failed to make his wants and feelings a priority. If she wanted something, and it was within reason and budget, she got it. No matter what he wanted, he'd always relent. Seeing that smile was payment enough for whatever he was giving up.

But something happens when one person's wants are always being put on the backburner. It becomes normal. This becomes the way things are. If anything other than this happens, it is considered abnormal, and thus, wrong.

When his brother died, Kendra was there for him. She was at the funeral, she cried with him, and genuinely felt for her husband. After all, that's what a good wife does.

But he reached a level of depression that she couldn't understand. Especially when her own mom died of cancer. It sucked. She grieved. She missed her mom every day. But she put one foot in front of the other and kept moving.

But there's a difference between someone slowly dying and someone suddenly being ripped away. And to die for doing little more than your job. His brother was a police officer! He pulled a woman out of a burning car and wouldn't leave her side until he knew she was okay. He saved a mother who was getting beaten within an inch of her life from her husband. And on top of that, he gave Sally (his next-door neighbor) a ride to work every day in his squad car because she was constantly being harassed by some young thug who had a thing for MILF's.

And he got killed for pulling a guy over for his taillight being out.

If his brother could die, after doing so much good in the world, what chance did he have? He was a nobody who managed an office. The most good he did for the world was recycle.

That rocked Patrick's world to its core. His brother dying was more than a brother dying. When he looked down into that coffin, he saw himself. If either of them should be dead, it should be him. Not the hero to so many.

If anyone needed time on a therapist's couch, it was Patrick. But he refused therapy. He just wallowed in his depression, crying silent tears.

Kendra didn't understand. She couldn't. He wouldn't talk to her.

What he needed from her was something he didn't even realize he needed. He didn't need her to snap him out of it. He didn't need her to make him feel better, or give him a magic solution to get over his crippling survivor's guilt.

He just needed her to be there. He needed her to stick with him, even when it was impossible to.

But the dynamics that he'd built early on made his feelings not as important. He took a backseat to her. He was sad, grieving, depressed, and questioning his own mortality; but he was doing it for far too long. He needed to get over it. He had a family here who loved him, and that alone should be enough to snap him out of it.

But it wasn't. He needed more than that. He needed to be put first. For once, he needed for it to be all about him.

The more frustrated she became, the more he pulled away. The more he pulled away...

You get the picture.

And then came Sean. She met him in a chat room. No, this wasn't some innocent chat room where people traded recipes and tips for DYS projects. She went looking for validation that she was still attractive; that she was worth looking at.

And she got it.

Of course, she wasn't planning on cheating. Just some flirty DM's. Maybe a pic or two.

Wow.

Ur beautiful!

He texted her. The picture she sent wasn't even that flattering. But he gushed over it like she was strutting the runway in the latest from Victoria's Secret.

From there, it went on. Small escalations. More pics. More validation. Then, a bikini pic.

Holy shit!

I just came in my pants!

Giggle. More pics, this time a little racier.

But that was just the beginning. Honestly, if it was just that, she would've been able to walk away at any time.

It was those phone calls that hooked her. Those intimate moments that she stole out of her day to hear his voice, his laugh, his breathing...

No longer was he a soulless flirt on the web. He was a real person; a funny, sensitive person who enjoyed hearing from her. He always made her laugh. And when she complained about her husband, he was always there to listen and make her feel better.

He put her first. Just like Patrick used to do.

That final, three-day weekend, the lie to end all lies, was the final breath of her marriage. He knew her mother had cancer. When Kendra had to suddenly visit her, he assumed the worst. Feeling his wife's pain (or at least the pain that should've been there) made him snap out of his funk, even if temporarily. He felt she needed him.

So, he tried to buy two last minute plane tickets to meet her out there. He and Jessi were going to be there with her during her time of need.

But she told him not to. She was adamant about it. In fact, she said the strangest thing. She said, "This is something I need to do alone."

Who wants to go through that alone? Who wouldn't want their spouse there with them, even if just for moral support?

But when her mom later died, she NEEDED him there for that?

That was the beginning of his suspicions. He started taking notice of her phone activity more. The way it went everywhere with her, including the bathroom. The way she laid it face down. The way she'd turn it slightly away from him when she'd text. Or how she'd occasionally leave the room when it rang.

Then, one day, she left it home by mistake. Curious, he tried to open it, only to find that she'd changed the passcode from their anniversary. This had been her 4-digit code for most PIN's. Her debit and credit cards, her banking info, her voicemail...

But not anymore.

And then, when she came rushing back in a panic to retrieve it, alarm bells were ringing loudly. The look in her eyes, the fear, was practically a confession in itself.

But he needed proof. So, he watched her closely while pretending to be oblivious. He watched until he saw her unlock it one day. The new code was four digits that didn't line up with anything he knew, so he had to repeat it to himself over and over to remember it.

He'd find out later that it was Sean's birthday.

Patrick looked at the clock on the wall. It was 12:15. It was officially Christmas.

"Well, it's Christmas Kendra." He said, feeling unbelievably drained after so short a conversation.

She sniffled. "Yeah. I guess so."

Both seemed reluctant to end the call. It was a metaphor for everything else, really. It was why they were still separated, but neither had filed for divorce yet. Even with her going up to meet Sean's parents today, she couldn't bring herself to file.

A part of her, even if it was far-fetched, was hoping for a Christmas miracle. She was hoping that he would tell her that he couldn't live without her, and that he was coming home to her. If Patrick did that, she'd gladly drop Sean from her life.

Unfortunately, she didn't see that it was that line of thinking that kept her Christmas miracle from happening. What she failed to realize was that the more she refused to put him first, the farther away from her he got.

They were at an impasse.

Patrick still loved his wife, no matter how hard he fought that love. Her betrayal still hurt. But it didn't incapacitate him as it once did. At one time, every waking moment was consumed by her and those texts. But lately, he found himself going days without thinking about it (today being the exception). Soon, it will be weeks.

And then, she'll just the mother of his kid; someone he used to know. This purgatory won't last forever.

"Merry Christmas, Kendra." Patrick said. And you know what? He truly meant it. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

She sighed sadly. She was not getting her Christmas miracle. Not this year. Maybe next year.

"Merry Christmas, Patrick."

She bit back the words,

"I love you."

She knew he wouldn't return it, even if he felt it. She missed those words coming from his mouth. No matter how many times Sean said it, it wouldn't compare. Patrick was her first love, her best friend, her soul mate. It was truly her loss.

The click of the call ending made Kendra break down once again. What she would've given to go back in time to five Christmases ago; to when she gave him that chair.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Dedicated to a friend going through a tough time this holiday season.

I'm here for you.