What’s going on?”
“Sorry for not calling before. I’m just visiting for the weekend,” I said, forcing a smile as I made my way inside. “I thought I should spend some quality time with my favorite parents.”
She let me in without a word, although I could tell she didn’t believe me.
I was glad she let it go that night, but on Saturday morning, over breakfast, she asked me for the truth.
I had to tell her what Scott requested.
“Why are YOU the one leaving? It’s your house,” she said while buttering her toast with forced, angry movements. “When I was your age, Henry would never have asked me to leave our home.
Not for anyone.”
“It’s just temporary,” I lied, pushing my eggs around the plate. “Patricia’s going through some things. It’s easier this way.”
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“Easier for whom?” Mom’s voice was gentle but firm.
“Honey, something about this doesn’t feel right.”
“I know, but can we just let it go,” I mumbled, and luckily, Mom nodded.
But a few weekends turned into every single one, and then months had gone by.
Every Friday, I packed my bags, like I was being evicted from my house, the one I bought before I even met Scott.
It wasn’t fair, and according to him, Patricia liked this arrangement, so we had to keep it up. He constantly reassured me that he loved me only and hated that his ex was acting this way.
But we had to go along for Ben’s well-being.
I wanted to understand badly because he always sounded so sincere, and I loved him and his son. But how much more was I supposed to take?
I didn’t know when I would break.
Well, it happened on a Friday. I was only five minutes away from my parents’ house when the thought “Are you an idiot?” entered my mind. Why was I taking this?
This wasn’t normal!
I couldn’t justify this strange arrangement anymore, so I made a dangerous U-turn, hauling back to my house. I parked in our driveway and used my key to open the front door.
From outside, I could tell that the house was too quiet for a Friday night with a six-year-old who loved blasting cartoons on the TV.
But I realized what was truly happening as soon as I stepped into my living room. First, Ben was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, I saw Scott on our couch with one arm casually draped around Patricia.
She was wearing my pajamas, the ones I just bought that were a little on the pricier side.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
With an expletive, Scott jumped up from the sofa and hit his knee on the coffee table. “Marilyn! You’re… you’re supposed to be at your parents’,” he said, limping toward me.
I wasn’t looking at him.
My gaze was on Patricia, who hadn’t moved. She was just smirking as she ran a hand through the silk of the pajama shirt. “Well, well.
Looks like someone went off-script.”
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
“At my mother’s,” Patricia replied smoothly, crossing her legs. “He’s always at my mother’s on Friday. They have a special movie night.
Didn’t Scott tell you?” She turned to him with mock concern. “Oh, darling, don’t tell me you’ve been lying to your new wife?”
The pieces clicked into place. “This was never about Ben, was it?”
“Smart girl.” Patricia smiled and stood.
“I told Scott that if he wanted another chance with me, I needed weekends to see if we could fix things. Sending you away was his idea, though,” she shrugged. “He’s always been good at finding… creative solutions.”
I laughed, a hollow sound.
“That’s interesting because Scott told me something very different.” I pulled out my phone and hit play on a recording from last week.
I don’t know why I had recorded it secretly, but at that moment, I was glad. I knew my relationship was over, but they weren’t going to run happily into the sunset either.
Scott’s voice filled the room: “I love you, Marilyn. Patricia is just being her typical self.
Selfish and petty. I’m only doing this until Ben’s a bit older and can understand things better. Things will go back to normal soon for us, and then, we can think about having our own children.
You’re the love of my life.”
Patricia’s lips twisted when I put my phone down. Suddenly, she bent, grabbed her slipper, and threw it at Scott. “You lying piece of garbage!
All this time, you’ve been playing both sides? You’re pathetic!”
He ducked, and the slipper hit a porcelain decoration on our mantelpiece, toppling it over and making it shatter on my floor. I didn’t care.
It was an ugly thing his mother had given me.
But then, Patricia moved, taking her purse before pushing me away from the front door and exiting my house.
“Feel free to keep my pajamas. I know you can’t afford them!” I yelled, aiming for maximum pettiness.
She froze for a second but kept walking without a backward glance. Once she was out of sight, I walked upstairs to our bedroom with Scott following and pleading desperately behind me.
Ignoring him, I went to his closet, grabbed his precious polo shirts, and threw them out the window.
“What are you doing?!” he shouted.
“If you get any closer to me,” I began, putting up my hand to stop him, “I will scream my head off, and you know the old gossip in front will call the police.”
“Please, Marilyn,” Scott stepped back, helpless.
But I didn’t listen.
His expensive suits followed, then his dress shoes, his watch collection, his golf clubs, and his travel suitcases.
“Now, go pick that junk off my lawn and get out of my life,” I said in a dangerously calm voice.
“Please, listen,” he tried begging one last time. “I was only thinking about Ben. I wasn’t playing both sides.
I was only playing her.”
“SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
The sound was so loud that I’m sure the neighbors heard it. He stared into my eyes for a final moment, and his shoulder sagged. At last, he left.
Some curious neighbors gathered on their porches to watch as Scott gathered his scattered belongings.
Before he drove away in his car, he turned back one last time.
“Marilyn, please. We can work this out. I’ll tell you everything,” he insisted, his voice cracking.
“I never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to make everyone happy.”
“I don’t want to hear anything from you except through lawyers,” I replied and shut the front door.
I leaned my back against it and breathed deeply as the adrenaline finally left my body.
A minute later, my phone vibrated in my pocket with a message from my mom. She must have been worried that I never made it to her house.
“Everything okay?
You never made it here.”
I smiled and typed back: “Everything’s perfect, Mom. No one is ever kicking me out of my place again.”
