Page 6 of Love You Madly

I did love Sabrina. How could I not? I’d known her for fourteen years. But I also couldn’t stand to be around her. Not in the typical “they drive each other crazy but are deeply in love” way. I genuinely couldn’t stand her presence. I didn’t want to be near her or share her company. My feelings for her had evolved into a complex mix of love tinged with resentment, a stark departure from the affection I once felt.

I even started working third shift just to avoid her. It allowed me to spend my days with Barrett while he was ababy, and we saved on childcare since Sabrina got home most days before I had to leave for work except for my every-other Friday double shift when I had to be in at Noon. The more time I spent away from Sabrina, the clearer it became that I couldn’t spend the rest of my life this way.

Growing up in Cedar Bluff, I watched my parents fight constantly. They stayed together “for the kids,” but their marriage crumbled soon after I married Sabrina. Nearly thirty years together, and it ended in a hollow, anticlimactic separation. I didn’t want that for myself. I couldn’t imagine enduring a lifetime of trying to force something that was never meant to work. Surely, Sabrina wouldn’t have wanted that either.

I pulled away, bit by bit, until one day, I did the most fucked up thing I could have done. I left. While she was at work, I packed my stuff, dropped Barrett off at her parents’ house–just like I did every other Friday when I had an early shift-and went to work. Her parents didn’t think much of it; they always watched him two Fridays a month. But that day, I turned my phone off.

I left a note for Sabrina, explaining that I needed time to clear my head. Leaving a note means I wasn’t a total monster, right? It’s not like I said that I was going out to get a pack of cigarettes or a gallon of milk and then just dipped out forever. I promised I’d be back on Monday to watch Barrett when she went to work. Our marriage might have been coming to an end, but there was nothing in the world that would make me walk away from my son.

It wasn’t just a Post-it note either; I poured out everything, telling her we both knew we weren’t happy and it was only a matter of time before everything imploded. I just happened to be the one to say out loud what we had both undoubtedly been thinking for quite some time.

When my shift ended at five in the morning, I turned onmy phone and was greeted by a flurry of texts pinging one after another and a missed call from Sabrina. The first one was clueless, not realizing yet that I had left. Then came the furious string of pings on my phone as her messages came through.

Sabrina:

Making “Breakfast for Dinner” in case you want leftovers after your shift. Have a good night at work. Text me when you can. I love you.

I felt a pang of guilt reading that. She had no idea what was coming. I knew it was cowardly, but leaving a note seemed like the only way I could go through with it.

I clocked out and walked to the truck, my feet dragging with the weight of the night’s events. The parking lot was nearly empty, the dim streetlights casting long shadows. I got into my car, started the engine, and let out a deep sigh as the texts continued to pour in.

I opened them, knowing I was probably in for a Grade A ass-chewing as I started to read the rest.

Ping. Ping.

Sabrina:

Found your note. What the hell, Owen?! Call me.

Straight to voicemail, really? You shut your phone off? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

She was right to be angry. Fuck, I was a coward. I should have handled this whole situation differently.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Sabrina:

Please tell me this is a joke. Fourteen years together and you leave me a note?

How the fuck did we get here?

Going to bed. Text me when you get back to your dad’s. Don’t put me through this and then die on the way home. If anything is going to kill you today, it’s going to be me.

I was joking earlier, by the way. Hey cops, if he died and you’re reading this, I didn’t actually kill him.

Her attempt at humor stung me more than her anger. It reminded me of better times when we would joke to diffuse tension. But this wasn’t something a joke could fix.

Ping. Ping.

Sabrina:

Didn’t tell my parents. Your note said you’re staying at your dad’s. Please ask him not to say anything until after we talk. I love you, Owen. But I think maybe you are right.

I hope you know that even though you’re the World’s Shittiest Husband right now, I’d never keep Barrett from you. You’re a good father and he needs you.

Maybe she was starting to understand, even if it was just a little. Relief washed over me. Barrett was my world, and the thought of being separated from him has been one of the hardest parts of this decision. I was terrified that she would use him as a way to punish me for leaving.

Apparently, she went through every stage of grief while I was gone and landed on acceptance just in time for me to avoid a full blown confrontation when I got off work.

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