It Ended in the Nursery

She hated the way he held his coffee mugs. There was a whole handle on the side for a reason yet he always held the top rim with his fingertips and it made part of his hand smush into his face whenever he took a sip. It was just weird, it irked her. She used to think it was different. As she took a sip of her own coffee, holding the mug the right way, she saw an email come in from a spa promoting a sale they had running on certificates. They had gone to that spa together a couple times.

“Hey, do you wanna get a massage at that spa again? They have a sale going.” She asks, looking up at him while she takes a sip. And as usual, he doesn’t even bother to look up at her. He barely looks at her when she speaks anymore, like she’s a ghost.

“Eh, no.” He shrugs, getting up to put his coffee mug next to the sink rather than in it because apparently that’s just too hard for him to use anything the right way. She hates how he always does that.

“Well I’ll go on my own then.” He doesn’t bother to say anything to that but goes upstairs to leave her in her own words. She feels invisible, ignored, unwanted. She can’t remember the last time she felt overcome with her love for him, it’s as if it never even happened in the first place.

He hates the way she holds her wine glasses. She fists it around the bottom of the stem rather than holding the bottom of the glass and it was so annoying. Her lipstick always got all over the glass and it wasn’t uncommon for some to get around her lips too. He used to laugh and wipe it off of the corners of her mouth gently, taking that moment to look into her eyes but not anymore. Let her look a mess, what does he care? He goes back to eating. She won’t stop talking about how great a hot stone massage was and he wishes he could just eat in silence. He used to love her stories, love her voice, love the way she described things so vividly. Now it is just another thing he can’t stand about her.

“Do you ever just want to sit in silence?” He snaps, dropping his fork on his plate. She literally was taken aback, retreating into her seat whereas she had been fully engaged with her elbows on the table. She just looked down and kept eating. Good riddance. He knew he should bring everything up to her but he just didn’t know how to do that.

They lay in bed together and once again, she cannot stand the way he just won’t get off of her. Why does he think he can snap on her, ignore her, and be closed off to her but want to cuddle all night? She didn’t want to cuddle with him, he always pulled on her hair and sometimes he would drool but she wanted to sleep in her own bed. On and off for months now, she has gone to sleep on the couch at night. She would turn on a show or movie quietly and fall asleep to it, feeling at peace with being able to sleep unbothered by him. She gets flung out of her thoughts as his arm is thrown over her chest and she feels the drool smearing onto her shoulder; he smells like his cheap cologne and sweat. She hated it. For another night, she fights him off of her and gets up to go downstairs. She wraps herself up in the soft, fleece blankets she likes (she also hated that he insisted on sleeping with huge duvets which did nothing but make her feel suffocated) and sighs out in relief at the peace.

“Well maybe a wife is supposed to do these things!” He shouts at her as she stares into the sink. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to come home to a pile of dishes? That I don’t want to hear the sound of you washing them when I’m trying to relax?”

“Did you ever think that I hate being the only one who does dishes here?” She snaps back at him, her eyes lighting up in anger. “I work too! I have a job too! Don’t you think maybe your wife wants to relax as well? Why do I have to work a second shift and clean up after a grown man everyday?”

He walks away from her, shaking his head and of course, she has to follow him. “Why don’t you do anything around here? Bringing in your tiny ass paychecks isn’t enough! I clean this house day in and day out and I’m sick of being your maid!”

“Oh yes, please remind me of your bigger salary. Just keep putting me down,” He throws his hands up. “Maybe while you’re at it, you’ll leave me to go bask in your own quiet, clean house with your fancy corporate job!” That was the first time he had ever mentioned her leaving him but it definitely wasn’t the first time he had thought of it.

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever given me.” She says quietly, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the dishes.

He was at work and she was at home, taking his advice. She packed up some bags. She never realized how much stuff they accumulated while living together and despite anticipating relief upon her departure, she couldn’t help but cry amongst her suitcases. Her eyes stung and her nose was stuffy yet it just kept coming out. There was so much she wanted from him and their life together. Getting this house was the first of those dreams. They renovated it soon after their honeymoon, dancing to music in the half finished living room and laughing cause they couldn’t figure out how to install a different shower door. She missed that, she missed how easy everything felt and how excited she was for everything to come.

She wandered each room of the home one last time, making their bed and lighting his favorite candle. It was teakwood and mahogany and even though she hated wood smells, she knew it would be a small comfort when he realizes what she’s done. She looked at her empty side of their bathroom counter and it didn’t look half as empty as she felt inside. She washes the dishes in the sink and neatly dried them, putting them back in their assigned cupboards. She had to keep drying them over and over since her tears didn’t stop splattering on them.

The last room she visited was the second bedroom. Situated at the end of the hall upstairs, they never really had to look at it directly and neither of them wanted to either. She took a huge breathe before walking in. The soft, pastel green wallpaper lined the room and there in the center stood an empty white crib. They tried for years and it just never happened for them. The couple times it did, she lost them. Now this room lay barren and devoid of all the joy it was once supposed to hold. Both of them so badly had wanted children, wanted a big family where the home would be filled with play fighting, laughing, and learning. The longer she spent in here, the more she felt desolate and hollow. It smelled like baby oil and it was enough to make her want to throw up. She felt like he never understood how much her mind and body went through just in the attempt to make their dreams come true. She closes the door and locks it from the outside, tucking the key into her pocket.

Staring at the house from inside of her car in the driveway, she said her last goodbyes. With her puffy eyes and tropical air freshener, she put the car in reverse and left, struggling to see beyond the suitcases piled in her backseat.

There he sat, in his silent home, with no noise, no lipstick, no dishes, and no her. He read her note which detailed every transgression he enacted upon her, every moment that seemed to push her closer to the edge. He just never thought she would actually leave. In that moment, he stood up and burned the letter in the flame of the candle. He now decided he will never enjoy wood scents again.

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