Someone once told me that when you’re in love, your heart takes over and your brain shuts off. I never understood what that meant when I was younger, but I do now. New love makes you look past a person’s flaws, which seem magnified later on. I look at my wedding ring; even when I take it off, I still feel it there.
I open the door to the penthouse. Everything looks the same, as if I never left.
“Cal?” I call, putting my purse on the console table near the door.
I didn’t think he’d beat me here; it seems I was right. I turn around and lock the door. I head upstairs to our room, and I can tell it’s been cleaned since I left. I sit on my bed and look around, realizing that I have actually missed being in the comfort of my own home. Who knew? I yawn and lie back, my body relishing the down comforter. This feels amazing after the cramped stay on Angela’s couch.
I open my eyes and first notice that the sunlight vanished while I slept. I look at the clock on the table and see that it’s 8:14. I got here around six. Footsteps are coming down the hall, so I jump up, only to get a head rush, and I have to sit back down on the bed. The door opens, and Cal steps in. He looks at me, his face set in a hard frown.
“You’re finally up,” he says, turning on the light.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, covering my yawn as I try to fully wake up.
“About an hour,” he says, sitting in a chair across from the bed so we’re face to face. I wonder when he brought that in. It wasn’t here earlier.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” I sigh, secretly scolding myself for wanting his arms around me, for missing him, for being ready to forgive him if he just asked.
He pulls his chair closer to me and sits back down. I look at him curiously, and for the first time in forever, his eyes avoid mine. We sit in silence for what seems to be the longest seconds of my life.
“Cal?” I say softly, purposely erasing the contempt that laced my voice earlier.
His eyes are scaring me. I’ve always tried to tell from them what he was feeling, but they’re avoiding me. He’s looking in my direction, but he’s not making eye contact.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“I’ve never lied to you,” he says, his voice strong and unwavering. “And I’m not going to start now.” He sighs and drops his head down, running both hands through his hair.
My heart rate picks up. “Just say it.” My nerves are multiplying by the second.
He picks up my hand and holds it tightly in both of his. “I-I have to leave.”
My expression hardens, and I pull my hand away. “You called me back for this?” I stand, feeling my anger rise.
He pulls me back down. “Look, this is different.” His eyes widen, and his tone lifts higher.
“Everything is different with you, Cal. If you weren’t so different, maybe I wouldn’t feel so screwed up right now,” I snap, snatching my hand away from him. I can’t believe how easily he fooled me. God, I was eating out of his hands.
He frowns and walks toward the window. He looks out, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “I don’t know if I’ll be back.”
I search his tone for some hint of sarcasm, but I don’t find any.
“What?” I say, hoping I didn’t hear him right.
He doesn’t say anything. I walk in front of him.
“Would you mind repeating yourself?” I say sharply.
“I’m going to make sure that you’re taken of. I put ninety thousand in your personal account—”
“What? You don’t know if you’ll be back?” I ask him frantically, trying to get my words out. He’s leaving me money? Things are going so fast in my head that I can’t even say what I want. “Why does it sound like you’re saying that you’re leaving me?”
My heart is beating rapidly, and his eyes still won’t connect with mine. My stomach drops. He doesn’t say anything, which makes my heart speed up even more. I have to be jumping to conclusions. I mean, no—Cal wouldn’t leave me. We argue, we fight, we make up. This isn’t right.
“I have to,” he says.
His eyes finally fall on me, and the look in them scares me. He seems helpless, and I’m suddenly terrified. My throat is starting to burn.
“Is this about me, how I’ve been acting? Is this some kind of revenge thing?” I say, hearing my voice crack.
“This has nothing to do with you,” he says, almost in a whisper.
“Exactly, Cal! Look what you’re saying—I’m your wife. And your decision to leave has nothing to do with me?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“What are you talking about? Cal! Talk to me, please,” I say frantically. “Look at me!”
His eyes stare past me.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” I plead, feeling tears fall down my face. This isn’t the man I know; he seems broken. “Tell me what the hell is going on! Tell me what’s going on with you for once!”
“I can’t!” he yells back, and his expression hardens. “This isn’t about me.” He walks to the other side of the room.
“Then who is it about?” I don’t understand. This is not how this is supposed to happen.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You won’t tell me that either, huh?” I say quietly, unable to stop the stream of tears. I wipe them away angrily. “What am I supposed to say, Cal? What? Am I just supposed to accept you leaving? No explanations except ‘I have to.’ Not that I’ve ever gotten one from you. This won’t be any different except who knows when you’ll come back? If you come back.”
“My stock dividends from the company will still be deposited into the account…” he continues.
Oh my God, he thinks I care about money, as if that’s my main concern right now.
“I don’t care about the fucking money! I never cared about any of this—the trips, this house—I never needed this! All I wanted”—I’m screaming now—“all I ever wanted was you. Can’t you see that?” My words get caught in my throat. “Say something.” My voice comes out in a whisper. “Is there someone else?” I try to maintain what little composure I have left.
“I told you I’ve never cheated on you,” he insists, almost annoyed.
“Then why? People just don’t decide to leave out of nowhere. There has to be a reason. Tell me you’re in love with someone else, that this isn’t working, that you’re in trouble. Just tell me something,” I plead with him, begging for some type of explanation.
“There’s nothing I can tell you,” he says coldly, his eyes not even on me.
I look at him, the person I’ve loved all these years, the man I’ve loved so much that my body ached. How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, missing him? How many times has my mind told me to walk away, and I stayed?
If it’s this easy for him, he doesn’t deserve a measure of what I’m feeling right now. He doesn’t deserve to know how much I love him. I don’t even know how to respond to this. How do you respond when your husband says he’s leaving you, and he can’t tell you why?