He Might Be an Asshole, But He’s My Asshole

At home, the situation became unbearable, because I was pissed off at the thought of staying married to a guy too sure of himself to see that I wasn’t really happy. At work, with Juda, I tried to keep it together, but every time he mentioned his new girlfriend and how amazing she was, I was pissed. Then he showed me her picture, and I was shocked: she looked exactly like me. Like, what the fuck? Why did he pick a copy of me? It was giving me a headache; the situation was too confusing. We were working on a project together, due Monday, and it wasn’t finished on Friday, so he asked me if I could come over to his place to work on it Saturday night. I didn’t hesitate. I said yes, naturally. On my way home, I called my best friend, and she was like, “You’re not even considering going to his place? Will his girlfriend be there to chaperone?” No, I replied, they don’t live together, and it’s for work. We have a deadline. It’s a contract with a lot of zeros. She said, “That’s the excuse you’re giving yourself, but we both know what could happen once you’re there.” “Nothing will happen. I love my husband.” She replied, “But do you love him too?” I said, “I’m driving. I’ll call you back.” It was a lie. I wasn’t driving; I was in a taxi on my way home. When I got home, my husband wasn’t there. He had texted earlier that he’d stay at the bar to celebrate a game with his friends. When the nanny left, I put the baby in his crib. That night, I didn’t text my husband begging him to come home, or asking what time he’d be back, or where he was. I didn’t care anymore, and hadn’t for a long time. The next day, at 6 p.m., I was ready to go to Juda’s place. I wore my husband’s favorite dress. He said, “You never wear this dress for me anymore. Actually, you don’t make yourself pretty for me anymore.” I answered, “Because there’s no reason to anymore.” When I left, I said I love you to our son. My husband wanted a goodbye kiss, and I said no, because of my lipstick. On my way to Juda’s place, I got a call from my best friend’s man’s number, so I thought it was urgent. She said, “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up if I called from my number, but please, go home. Don’t destroy 80% of your life for 20% of hope.” “Okay,” I said, and I went home. When I opened the door, my husband was with our son. I saw in his eyes that I had been wrong about something. He knew something had happened to me. He had seen the change.