It does nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. “I don’t care if you’ve changed, Ryle. I hope you have. But it’s not my responsibility to test that theory.”
Those words hit him hard. I see it when he has to take a moment to swallow whatever unkind response he knows he shouldn’t give me right now. He stops talking, stops looking at me, stops hovering.
He huffs, frustrated, and then backs away and makes his way toward the stairs, hopefully to his own apartment. He slams the door shut behind him.
I don’t immediately follow, for obvious reasons. I need space. I need to process.
This isn’t the first time he’s asked me what we’re doing—like our divorce is some long game I’m playing. Sometimes he’ll say it in passing, sometimes in a text. Sometimes he makes it a joke. But every time he suggests how senseless our divorce is, I recognize it for what it is. A manipulation tactic. He thinks if he treats our divorce like we’re being silly, I’ll eventually agree with him and take him back.
His life would be easier if I took him back. Allysa’s and Marshall’s lives might even be made easier by it, because they wouldn’t have to dance around our divorce and their relationship with him.
But my life wouldn’t be easier. There’s nothing easy about fearing for your safety any time you make a misstep.
Emerson’s life wouldn’t be easier. I’ve lived her life. There’s nothing easy about living in that kind of household.
I wait for my anger to dissipate before heading back downstairs, but it doesn’t. It just builds and builds with every step I descend. I feel like the reaction I’m having is too big for what just happened, or maybe that’s just how I’ve conditioned myself to feel when I’m around Ryle. Maybe it’s a combination of that and my lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the date with Atlas that I almost ruined. Whatever it is that’s making me react so intensely catches up with me right outside of Allysa’s apartment door.
I need a moment to collect my emotions before being near my daughter, so I sit on the floor of the hallway to cry it out. I like to shed tears in private. Happens quite regularly, unfortunately, but I’ve been finding myself getting overwhelmed a lot. Divorce is overwhelming; being a single mother is overwhelming; running a business is overwhelming; dealing with an ex-husband who still scares you is overwhelming.
And then there’s that splinter of fear that creeps into my conscience when Ryle says something to suggest our divorce was a mistake. Because sometimes I do wonder if my life wouldn’t be so overwhelming if I still had a husband who shared some of the burdens of raising his child. And sometimes I wonder if I’m overreacting by not allowing my daughter to have overnights with her own father. Relationships and custody agreements don’t come with a blueprint, unfortunately.
I don’t know if every move I make is the right one, but I’m doing my best. I don’t need his manipulation and gaslighting on top of that.
I wish I were at home; I would walk straight to my jewelry box and pull out the list of reminders. I should take a picture of it so I always have it on my phone in the future. I definitely underestimate how difficult and confusing interactions with Ryle can be.
How do people leave these cycles when they don’t have the resources I had or the support from their friends and family? How do they possibly stay strong enough every second of the day? I feel like all it takes is one weak, insecure moment in the presence of your ex to convince yourself you made the wrong decision.
Anyone who has ever left a manipulative, abusive spouse and somehow stayed that course deserves a medal. A statue. A freaking superhero movie.
Society has obviously been worshipping the wrong heroes this whole time because I’m convinced it takes less strength to pick up a building than it does to permanently leave an abusive situation.
I’m still crying a few minutes later when I hear Allysa’s door open. I look up to find Marshall exiting the apartment carrying two bags of trash. He pauses when he sees me sitting on the floor.
“Oh.” His eyes dart around, as if he’s hoping someone else will help me. Not that I need help. I just needed a moment of respite.
Marshall sets the bags on the floor and walks over. He takes a seat across from me and stretches out his legs. He scratches uncomfortably at his knee. “I’m not sure what to say. I’m not good at this.”
His discomfort makes me laugh through my tears. I toss up a frustrated hand. “I’m fine. I just need to cry sometimes when Ryle and I fight.”
Marshall pulls up a leg like he’s about to stand up and go after Ryle. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. No, he was fairly calm.”
Marshall relaxes back to the floor, and I don’t know why, maybe it’s because he’s the unlucky one in front of me right now, but I unload all my thoughts on him.
“I think that’s the problem—that he actually had a right to be mad at me this time, and he was relatively calm about it. Sometimes we can argue, and it doesn’t lead to anything more than a disagreement. And when that happens, I start to question whether I overreacted by asking for a divorce. I mean, I know I didn’t overreact. I know I didn’t. But he has this way of planting seeds of doubt in me, like maybe things could have gotten better if I just gave him more time to work on himself.” I feel bad that I’m laying all this on Marshall. It’s not fair to him because Ryle is his best friend. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your issue.”
“Allysa cheated on me.”
Marshall’s words stun me silent for a good five seconds. “Wh-what?”
“It was a long time ago. We worked through it, but dammit, it hurt like hell. She broke my heart.”
I’m shaking my head in an attempt to process this information. He keeps talking, though, so I try to keep up.
“We weren’t in a good place. We were going to different colleges and trying to make long distance work, and we were young. And it wasn’t even anything big. She had a drunk make-out with some guy at a party before she remembered how amazing I am. But when she told me… I’ve never been so angry in my life. Nothing had ever cut me like that did. I wanted to retaliate: I wanted to cheat on her, so she’d know how it felt; I wanted to slash her tires and max out her credit cards and burn all her clothes. But no matter how mad I was, when she was standing right in front of me, I never, not for one second, thought about physically hurting her. If anything, I just wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder.”
Marshall looks at me with sincerity. “When I think about Ryle hitting you… I get absurdly angry. Because I love him. I do. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. But I also hate him for not being better. Nothing you have done and nothing you could do would excuse any man’s hands on you out of anger. Remember that, Lily. You made the right choice by leaving that situation. You should never feel guilty for that. Pride is the only thing you should feel.”
I had no idea how heavily any of this was weighing on me, but Marshall’s words lift so much weight off me, I feel like I could float.
I’m not sure those words could mean more coming from anyone else. There’s something about getting validation from someone who loves Ryle like a brother that’s reaffirming. Empowering.
“You’re wrong, Marshall. You’re pretty damn good at this.”
Marshall smiles and then helps me to my feet. He picks up his trash bags and I head back inside their apartment to find my daughter and hug her so tight.
Chapter Thirteen Atlas
It’s amazing how a night can go from being something I’ve been hoping would happen for years, to something I’ve been dreading would happen for years.
If I hadn’t received that text just as I was dropping off Lily, I absolutely would have kissed her. But I want our first kiss as adults to be free from distraction.
The text was from Darin, informing me that my mother is at Bib’s. I didn’t tell Lily about the text because I hadn’t yet told her my mother was attempting to work her way back into my life. And then as soon as I told her about my mother calling me, I regretted it. The date was going so well, and I was risking that by ending it on such a somber note.
I didn’t text Darin back because I didn’t want to interrupt my time with Lily. But even after the date ended and we drove away in separate cars, I still didn’t text Darin back. I drove around for half an hour trying to figure out what to do.
I’m hoping my mother got tired of waiting for me. I took my time arriving back to the restaurant, but I’m here now, and I guess I need to confront this. She seems adamant about speaking with me.
