Page 7 of She Wolf

You’d think the way I grew up I’d be mad for skating or even just a Pilates class.

Composing myself, I walk into Jack’s room, which of course is done up in The Wolves hockey colors—teal, black and white, complete with a mural of the team wolf Casey had commissioned especially for Jack.

“Hey, buddy. Are you all set?” I ask, pulling back the covers for him to slip into.

“Yeah, I’m ready now,” he says sleepily and climbs into bed.

“Good boy. Do you want a story?”

“Not tonight, Mommy,” he yawns out, his minty breath wisping over my face. I smile, kissing his cheeks and forehead.

Never quite able to leave his room straight away, I stay a while, watching him drift off until he’s sleeping soundly. I sneak out of his room and close the door that I proceed to slide down, letting my butt hit the plush grey carpet with a bump.

I’m free.

I haven’t seen Nick for a long time, yet his narcissistic presence hung over me like a dark, thunderous rain cloud.

I’m not sure when it will sink in. What made him just up and sign the papers so suddenly after dragging me through the ringer for literally years? All the money I’ve wasted when it all just could have been so simple.

Nick wasn’t always an asshole. He changed after we left college. At first, he was sweet and charming, but after we’d been in New York for a few months he morphed into a volatile shadow of himself. It had started out small. A sly comment here and there, which slowly grew into him constantly berating and blaming me for getting pregnant.

Then he started hurting me, sometimes physically, but the slaps and the finger bruises didn’t seem to give him much satisfaction. What he really seemed to get off on was ruining or breaking things that my family, mainly Casey, had given me. He loved keeping me from them too. Games, holidays—I missed so much over those few years.

The one thing that hurt most of all was that he didn’t spare a second thought for Jack.

He was always too busy trying to become the next Jordan Belfort, from his cubical at a stockbroking firm in the city to take Jack for a walk through the park or play with him at bath times. He never sang or pulled funny faces trying to elicit giggles or adorable smiles.

By the time he moved out three years ago, there was nothing left of our relationship or my self-esteem.

And if my brothers even knew the half of it, he would be six feet under, no question. Keeping it from them was easy. Protecting my family from themselves and loving Jack gave me the tiny sliver of fight I needed to stick it out until the end.

***

Three years ago

Nick’s only been home five minutes and is in a shittier mood than usual. He’s been spitting hateful things at me since he stumbled through the door.

“Can’t believe I even stay around your used-up ass. Pregnant at twenty. You were so easy, practically throwing yourself at anyone who would have you and then trapping me. Now I’m stuck with you and a kid I can’t stand. I hate what you’ve done to me.” He sways as he speaks, regurgitating his usual tirade.

“How can you say that about Jack?” My eyes well even though his words barely register now. I had only one boyfriend before him and that didn’t last long, so all the names he spouts my way are just that. Names. But the way he talks about his son, I can’t bear it.

What snaps me out of my haze is him throwing his dinner plate at the opposite wall and then sweeping his arm across the dining table my dad made for us. I watch the bowls, plates, and glasses smash as they hit the floor and hold my breath hoping the noise didn’t wake Jack up.

“Why don’t you just go, Nick? Why stay if you’re so unhappy?” I manage to sputter out and ask his retreating back.

Please, God, please let me out of my misery. I pray. I hate this so much.

I know the answer though and it’s Casey. Well, Casey’s salary.

“What do you think I’m doing now?” I follow him as he storms to our room, reaching for the suitcases resting on top of the closet. He hurriedly packs his things, leaving the drawers wide open and I hold my breath, hoping he really is going.

“She’s the same age as you, you know?” The sneer on his face makes him look so ugly.

“W—who?” My mind races and my eyes narrow. There’s one thing to

assumehe’s not faithful and another for him to say it.

He’s a coward and a compulsive liar who isn’t usually able to admit to anything.

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