I felt so much better—stronger somehow—after talking to Maddie. I had told someone about my feelings for Jodi and she had been supportive. Loving. Accepting. It was time to go home and tell Al that it was over. I believed his remorse and efforts to save our marriage were sincere. But that didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t love him. I loved Jodi. I was determined to win her back whatever it took.
“Al,” I called when I got home.
“Upstairs in my office,” he called back.
“Can you come down here, please?” I set my purse on the end table and sat on the couch to wait.
“Hi, honey. What’s up?” He sat next to me.
This was going to be harder than I thought. I still cared about him. I didn’t like hurting people, and that included him.
“What’s going on?” he said again.
I searched for the right words. I knew whatever I said was going to sound lame. He had put in a true effort to save our marriage, and here I was about to tear it apart. “This isn’t working for me.” Not the best start, but I truly wasn’t sure how to do it any better.
“What do you mean?”
“Marriage. Our marriage. It isn’t working for me.”
He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “What more do you want me to do? I have done every single thing you asked.”
I couldn’t tell if he was getting angry or just frustrated. “I know you have. I’m just not happy.”
He shook his head. “Not happy? Not happy?” He stared at me in disbelief. “Look, honey…” He sat back down and took my hands. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do it. I told you I’ve changed. I did that for you.”
I pulled my hands away from him. “I want a divorce.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I could tell that was his anger coming through. “What the hell? I did everything you asked. I’ve given you everything you wanted. And you are telling me it’s not enough?”
I considered using the classic line, It’s not you, it’s me. But I didn’t think that would help. There was no way I was going to tell him about my feelings for Jodi or the real reason I was leaving.
“I’m sor—” I started.
“Oh, you’re sorry. You’re sorry.” Yes, he was angry and it was escalating. I stood up and he grabbed my hand. “Don’t. Sit down. We need to talk about this.”
I yanked my hand out of his. There wasn’t anything else to talk about. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t staying. End of conversation.
“Please,” he said. “Please talk to me. Don’t do this.” His anger turned to pleading. That felt far worse. I was torn between going upstairs and packing a bag or sitting back down. I chose to sit.
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
“I am so confused right now. I thought things were going good. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. I’m asking you not to do this, please.” He had definitely crossed over to begging. For a split second, I considered giving in. But I remembered why I was leaving him. Jodi. There was no one else in the world for me. Jodi. I stood up again, resolved to do what I had to.
“I’m moving my stuff into the guest room. I’ll figure out where I’m going to go tomorrow. I am sorry.” With that, I grabbed my purse and went up the stairs without looking back at him. I ignored him when he called my name again. I wasn’t so much leaving someone as going toward someone. Something. Love.