32 Days of Christmas: Day 7
Something is different this time, and you feel it in the air before she even steps out of the shower. Her bags are packed lightly, deliberately, because she’s leaving her clothes behind with you, along with any memory of this shithole you call a home, or whatever the two of you became in those clothes. She’s only taking the shell of herself, her dignity, and a small, stubborn hope that distance from you might finally let her restart the life she kept putting on hold for your promises. You watch the clock as the water runs far too long for what you know is her final shower here, though you tell yourself it isn’t; she’s said she’d leave before after all. She’s accused you of being unserious, of offering no scent of a future, of gambling and drinking away every weekend instead of finding a job, or even looking for one. And each time she left for her sister’s, she came back when your inborn Luo charm convinced her that tomorrow would be different. But tomorrow never arrived. You wait now, desperate, hoping the water will wash away her anger. Hoping she’ll step out softened, humming like she used to, even though the silence behind the bathroom door already tells you the truth. When she finally emerges, her face is unchanged—tight with disappointment, eyes red from crying the pain you never noticed. She dresses without makeup this time, and gives you no opening to parade the lies you still insist aren’t lies, and heads for the door where her Uber waits outside. You’ve been on your knees begging, but she’s unmoved. She remembered how many “last times” she’s given you, and her gut—the same gut that loved you beyond reason—has finally chosen itself. A strange, hollow silence settles over your dusty bedsitter, and you wonder when the time between the first hello and this goodbye slipped through your fingers. But you didn’t miss anything; you ignored everything. Every warning, every plea for you to get your shit together. She finally accepted what you never had the cojones to accept: you’re married to your booze and your gambling, and she deserves better. She needed to leave. In truth, everyone needs better—everyone needs anyone but you—so she stepped out the door, finally leaving.
✍🏽Reagan.