Chapter 22
Greg’s eyes reflected warmth and acceptance. “That was a very defining moment in your life. Very few people experience the supernatural the way you just described. I can only imagine the clarity it brought.”
I nodded, absorbing his positive reinforcement. “God became very real that day, and I stand by every commitment I made in those moments. The thing that bothers me now is how my current situation doesn’t reflect the surrender that happened that night in my bedroom. What’s equally frustrating is not having any idea how I got from there to here. It’s like the darkness has settled back in, and I’m left dealing with a marriage that feels like a sham.” I hung my head, not wanting to admit to my truth. “How do I go on loving somebody who doesn’t even like me? I mean, he literally despises my very existence, and I’m not sure why. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him not want to be with me, but our relationship is a serious joke right now. I have no clue why we’re still together.” My eyes misted.
Instead of buying into my brokenness, Greg invited me to reinvent my thinking. “During this next week, I want you to do something for me. Think you’re up for a challenge?” He eyed me closely.
Curiosity held my attention, and I nodded again. “I’m listening.”
“For one week, I want you to try a little experiment for me. Even if Brad doesn’t reciprocate or deserve it, I want you to make a conscious effort to be kind to him. Give yourself permission to not be defensive. Don’t correct him when he’s wrong. Don’t punish him for not responding the way you want him to. Just let his snarky responses and snippy attitude roll right off your back. Don’t react or get angry, but, instead, be the bigger person. Ignore his negativity and walk away from conflict. Give yourself freedom to be OK with not having the last word. I know this is a big ask, but do you think you can handle it?”
“You’re right. That is asking a lot.” Doubt enveloped my words. “What do you think will happen if I cooperate with this li’l endeavor?”
Greg’s eyebrows rose with the possibilities, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a grin. “I think you’ll witness change,” he predicted. “You might even be surprised at how positive Brad responds; and, if you’re lucky, you may even receive some kindness in return, so why not give it a try?”
“One week?” I verified.
“Only one week.” Greg smiled.
I caved. “Fine. I’ll try, but I don’t see it helping much.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you on the other side of your commitment.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
That evening, I greeted Brad at the front door with a smile. “Hey, You! You’re home early.” The perkiness in my voice carried a playful banter as I propped the front door open with my foot.
Brad lumbered up the walk, pressing past me into the house. The repugnant smell of cigarette smoke trailed close behind him. “What are you so happy about?” he grunted. “I always get off work at five-thirty.” After slinging his jacket over the back of the couch, he then dropped his keys on the kitchen counter.
“Well, I’m not used to seeing you until after eight,” I admitted. I glanced at my watch to confirm the time. “Six fifteen seems kind of early for you.” I gently closed the door and stepped into the family room where Brad had plopped himself down on the recliner in front of the TV. “May I help get you something? Something to drink, perhaps?”
I walked to the couch and picked up Brad’s favorite pillow, preparing to hand it to him. “I’m fine,” he snapped, snatching the pillow from my hand. “Now move. I wanna be able to see the game.” He tucked the pillow behind his back then aimed the remote at the TV, staring at the screen while it powered on.
“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? I can reheat some of the leftovers Calleigh and I had for supper about an hour ago. It was a Mexican dish. Pretty tasty. It’d only take a couple minutes in the microwave,” I persuaded.
“No. Really. I’m fine.” Gruff. Curt. Rude. Brad’s words assaulted my senses. “I grabbed something on the way home. I’m not hungry. You can stop trying to shove food down my throat.”
My mind immediately shielded me from his allegation, deflecting the insult. That’s not what I’m doing. Instead of becoming defensive, however, I focused on remaining kind, answering with, “OK. Just trying to be helpful.” Noting the scowl on his face, I figured a little flirting might get him out of his funk. Wiggling my hips, I tickled the edge of his left ear with the tips of my fingers. “Like my new jeans? I’m down two dress sizes. How’s that for gettin’ sexy back?” I dragged my pointer finger down the side of his arm, fishing for a compliment while trying to bond.
Brad shied from my touch, glaring at my closeness. “You call that sexy?” He sneered in derision. “Look at you! Who would want to come home to that?” The disgust in his voice hit my stomach like a physical blow, and I winced like I had just been hit.
A million thoughts started tumbling through my mind, the ultimate question dumbfounding me. What did I say or do to provoke that?
Brad returned his attention to the television, leaning over the armrest to peer around me. “Come on!” he huffed. “Move your fat ass out of the way.”
I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, mentally bracing myself against his abrasive words. You are not going to ruin this experiment for me, I determined, especially not on the first night. Scrounging up a smile, I forced pleasantry into my tone. “What’s wrong with this?” I opened my arms, displaying a new, slimmer figure, clean cotton v-neck t-shirt, and dark denim jeans. “What would you like to see instead? I’m genuinely open to suggestions.” I maintained my smile.
“I’m not going to waste my breath on you. It’s not like you listen anyway.” Brad kept his eyes averted, pretending to be immersed in a national laundry detergent commercial.
“Does this mood you’re in have anything to do with me calling you earlier this evening and asking if you were going to be home for supper?” I struggled to keep exasperation from seeping into my voice. “I thought you said your schedule was going to be different tonight, so I texted to confirm. When I didn’t receive a response from you for almost an hour, I decided to call. I know you’ve said the building where you work sometimes acts like a Faraday cage. I just wanted to make sure my message got through.”
Brad’s deadpan eyes stared up at me, his boredom palpable. “I didn’t answer my phone today because I knew it was you. I already knew what you were going to ask, because it’s the same question you ask EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. ‘When are you going to be home, Brad?’ ‘Will you be joining us for supper tonight, Brad?’ ‘Can you stop on the way home and pick up a gallon of milk, Brad?’ You’re so predictable and needy.” He rolled his eyes for show. “You need to put this in your pea-size, microscopic brain, Hope. I don’t know what time I’m going to be home. I will never know what time I’m going to be home, and, if I do know what time I’m going to be home, I will be the one deciding who needs to receive that information, not you. So, from here on out, you can stop with the incessant phone calls and constant nagging. Got it?”
I froze, struggling to make sense of the false accusations. Constant nagging? Incessant phone calls? “I called you once today. And wasn’t it you who just told me less than five minutes ago that you get off work every night at five-thirty? Most nights we don’t see you until eight-thirty or nine o’clock, sometimes later. What do you do between the time you clock out until the time you get home? I always assumed you were working late, but are you telling me now that’s not the case?”
Brad’s chest swelled with indignation, anger flaring in his eyes. “What I do with my time is none of your business. I’m a full-grown adult, and I don’t need to report home to Mommy or get your permission on how to live my life. You think you’re gonna start playing hall monitor with me now? Huh? Do ya?”
I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated and confused. “I’m not playing hall monitor, Brad. I’m stating facts. For the past year, you’ve been getting home later and later. The other night you were out until almost midnight without any explanation. Am I just supposed to ignore that?” A knot started forming in my stomach, stress tightening its fingers around my throat. “Calleigh also misses her daddy. She keeps asking where you are and if you’ll be home to read her a bedtime story. What am I supposed to tell her? You’ve kind of put me in an awkward position, because I’m not going to lie for you.”
Bitterness spewed from the daggers in Brad’s eyes. “You calling me a bad father now, too–as if emasculating me isn’t enough? Seems like you’re intent on inventing ways to make me look like a bad guy. Why is that? What do you think you’re going to accomplish by playing this twisted li’l game of yours?”
I stared Brad in the eyes, blinking back disbelief. “This isn’t a game, and that’s not what I’m saying. Parenting isn’t a contest. I simply asked when you were going to be home. How am I supposed to include you in our lives if I never know when you’re going to be here? Am I supposed to just pretend you’re not a part of this family any more? Would you prefer it that way?” Irritation cracked my voice.
Brad lurched forward, coming out of his chair. “I always come home!” he thundered near my face. “Don’t you dare go accusing me of neglecting my family, you selfish little bitch! I work hard to provide a roof over your pretty li’l head, and you always have food to eat and clothes to wear, so don’t go acting like I’m some horrible monster. Keep it up, and I’ll show you what a piss-poor father looks like!” My breath caught in my throat, and I promptly stepped out of his reach, hairs pricking the back of my neck.
“I never said you were neglecting your family. I simply wanted to know when we could expect you to be present.” I felt the back of my calves brush against the edge of the couch as I inched away.
Brad’s nostrils flared, his eyes spitting fire. “Why? So you can tell me what to do? Or so you can keep bossing me around like a pathetic li’l two year old? I can’t have two seconds to myself in this house. ‘Brad, help with the dishes.’ ‘Brad, take out the trash.’ ‘Brad, when are you going to mow the lawn?’ You are every husband’s worst nightmare. You’re absolutely insufferable.”
Opinions presented as facts twisted and contorted in front of me as I battled to untangle the truth. Noting the vein on the side of Brad’s neck beginning to bulge, my palms began to sweat. “What can I do to make it better?” I sputtered. “We just like spending time with you. That’s all. I’m not trying to make you mad.” Standing on the precipice of Brad’s pending wrath, I held my breath while inching even further away.
Hot. Fiery. Unpredictable. Brad continued to bully. “You will not be controlling my every move,” he fumed. “I can do whatever I please, whenever I please, and I do not need to have your permission to do it! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
Squaring my shoulders, I straightened my spine and steadied my voice. “I’m not asking to know your every move. I’m simply asking to be a part of your life. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why we got married—to share our lives?”
“OH. MY. WORD!” he exploded. “What a manipulator! This is the very reason I don’t come home to you. You’re so whiny and clingy. No one would knowingly marry this.” His words dripped with disdain as he brushed at the air in front of me. “Boy, you sure had me fooled. I can’t believe I fell for it. I should have never married you.”
Tears brimmed in my eyes, his hate piercing my heart. He regrets marrying me? Really? What have I done? I struggled to digest his words, deep sadness etching its way into the deepest part of my being. How is wanting to spend time with him neediness? He used to enjoy being part of this family–with me. I don’t understand what’s changed. Emotion choked my words as I whispered, “Is that what you really think?”
Brad rolled his eyes and feigned a chuckle. “Such a performer. Always the drama queen. What’s the matter now, Hope? Did someone hurt your feelings?” He exaggerated a frown, a glint of vindictive satisfaction reflecting in his eyes. “What? Is it something I said?” Tears trickled down my face, and my chin began to quiver, but I didn’t speak. “Seriously, Hope? You’re not even believable. You can stop with the act now.”
As he reached toward my face, I flinched. “C’mon. Seriously? You can’t possibly think I’m gonna hurt you?” Shaking his head, he grunted. “You’re a bigger actress than I gave you credit for.” Swiping a tear from my cheek, he flicked it in my face. “You’re the biggest mistake I ever made—in case I haven’t made myself clear.” Shoving a box of toys out of his way, he spouted a variety of expletives then stormed from the room. “Don’t bother trying to make up with me. I’ll be sleeping in my study tonight—ALONE!” I jumped as the door to his office slammed shut, simultaneously praying Calleigh hadn’t heard us arguing, knowing full well she probably had.
Collapsing on the couch in a heap of tears, I held my chest as a physical, knife-like pain stabbed at my heart. This isn’t what marriage is supposed to be like. I’m not supposed to be afraid of my husband, I informed God. Tucking my knees up under my chin, I wrapped my arms around my legs and began to rock myself against the overwhelming anxiety building inside me. “I don’t know how to live like this. This isn’t what I signed up for. He really, really scares me, God! Where do we go from here?”
God remained silent.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Greg opened our session with a smile and a curious mind. “So, how did our li’l experiment go?” His eyebrows rose in anticipation.
I released a sarcastic chuckle. “Not the way you imagined it would.”
The mystery grabbed his attention, a puzzled expression replacing his confident air. “Oh?”
“Yeah. The nicer I got, the meaner Brad became. All. Week. Long. I couldn’t do anything without him jumping down my throat. Come to find out, even breathing is a crime.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Brad claims he can hear me exhale from three rooms away. Not possible, but he’ll swear it is.”
“That does seem a bit extreme,” Greg admitted.
“Oh! And that’s not all,” I expounded. “Everything I did became a contentious issue with Brad. If I made oatmeal, he wanted grits. If I ran the vacuum to clean up a mess he’d just complained about—one he probably made—he’d insist everything in the house be quiet. My attempts at kindness actually turned our house into a raging battlefield.” I bit my lower lip, remembering all the so-called transgressions I had committed over the past week. “What made matters worse was constantly being on edge. It was like living with a Jack-in-the-Box, because Brad would flip on a dime. You’d never know what was going make him lunge, either. There was no consistency in his reactions. The only thing we knew for certain was something would eventually set him off. Eventually.”
“Wow, that is quite a different answer than what I was expecting,” Greg agreed. “Most people aren’t oppositional when shown kindness.”
“Oh, yeah, and don’t ever hint that he may be wrong.” I shook my head at the memories.
“Because he never is, right?” Greg finished my thought, familiar with the sentiment.
“Ever!” I emphasized. “It’s bad enough to never be allowed to have an opinion of your own, but all hell would break loose every time I tried correcting him. It wasn’t out of spite or to prove myself smarter than him, either–like he claimed–but rather to keep the facts straight. His reality was all over the place.” I looked Greg in the eye and shrugged in defeat. “Welcome to my world.”
“Those are some mighty big issues mixed in with some pretty intense crazy making,” Greg acknowledged. “So, I guess my next question is, ‘What have you learned from going through all this?’”
I leaned back against the couch, resigned to my inferior status. “That I can keep my cool longer than I ever thought possible?”
Greg tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, summoning a more serious answer.
“Fine,” I conceded. “I learned that no matter how nice I am, Brad always has a choice on how he’s going to respond, and I can’t control his actions.”
“But you can control your response,” Greg emphasized.
“Right. Even if that means walking away.”
Greg sensed my hesitation. “You don’t believe your relationship with Brad is normal, do you?”
A deep sigh escaped me. “No. It stopped being normal a long time ago.”
Greg tapped the end of his pen against his notepad. “What makes you think your marriage is different? What are you measuring it against?” His inquiry felt sincere.
“A gut feeling, I guess. Something just feels off. I’ve had positive role models to look up to my whole life—take my mom and dad, for example. I’ve seen what real love looks like by watching them, but this ain’t it.” I shook my head, certain of my belief. “Sure, my parents argued from time to time—all couples do–but they never fought. There’s a big difference between not seeing eye to eye versus constantly butting heads and degrading the other person in the process. When you respect your spouse, you know how to be level headed when conversations get heated, and you also know when it’s time to agree to disagree, without feeling the need to put the other person in their place or destroying their self respect.”
“I see.” Greg continued to listen.
“Growing up, Julia and I never had to wonder if Mom was going to leave Dad or if Dad was going to leave and never come home one day. They were each other’s best friend, and they committed to making things work, come hell or high water. Guess you could say they’re ‘equally yoked.’” Greg’s eyes hinted of confusion. “You know? Like in the Bible,” I clarified, referencing 2 Corinthians 6:14. “I don’t have that adhesiveness with Brad, and I’m not sure I ever will.” The realization made my heart ache.
“I can see why this would discourage you,” Greg sympathized.
“I never thought I’d be in a relationship where our fundamental beliefs would clash all the way down to the very core. It’s like I’m in survival mode all the time, merely existing day to day. We don’t agree on the simplest of things any more, so how are we supposed to live the rest of our lives together?” My frown resonated deep in my soul. “We’re constantly pulling each other in opposite directions, then getting mad when the other person doesn’t want to comply.”
Greg’s eyes held a comprehensive understanding I had never seen anywhere else. “Sadly, that’s more common than you think.”
“But we did everything we were supposed to do to prevent this from happening,” I rebutted, “including pre-marriage counseling. We used to have long heart-to-heart discussions, covering everything from our favorite colors to our deepest dreams. We discussed what having a family would look like someday and how many kids we wanted to raise. We even discussed where we saw ourselves at ten, twenty, thirty years down the road. All our hopes and dreams seemed to be compatible. That’s why I’m not really sure how we got here.”
Greg nodded slowly. “Have you ever been in a relationship where you didn’t feel this way?”
My eyes filled with tears as I succumbed to my truth. “Yeah. With Gavin.”
A warm smile spread across Greg’s face. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”