How does a woman know when the relationship with her man is over? Is it when the communication slows to a molasses-dripping stop? When he’s more interested in playing video games than having sex even when she’s standing over him in a newly purchased negligee? When sex feels more like she’s sleeping with a roommate and not with a man who’s supposed to be the love of her life? Or is it when he looks at her, but he’s not really looking at her anymore because the fire’s gone out?
Take Josh for example.
Over the past few weeks, he’d appeared to see me, but the more I looked at him, the more I realized he didn’t see me at all. Not really. His eyes were glazed over, like if I waved my hands in front of him, he wouldn’t react. His body was there, but his mind had crossed over into some parallel universe, or perhaps a remote island where he was sitting in a hammock, sipping a mai tai. Alone. Or maybe not alone. But in a place I wasn’t invited.
Is there another woman?
I pondered this question while sitting in the living room with two of my three closest girlfriends.
“So, what happened this morning?” Rae asked. “What’s going on?”
“Josh packed a ...”
I couldn’t finish.
“What’s happened to Josh?” Sasha asked. “Is he all right? Did something happen?”
I swallowed. Hard. Tried again. “Something happened, all right. This morning. He packed a bag and walked out. He’s gone.”
Rae and Sasha exchanged glances, like they found it hard to believe. They liked Josh. Everyone liked Josh. The clerk at the store, the teller at the bank, practically every person he’d ever met.
“When you say gone,” Rae said, “Do you mean gone gone?”
“What other kind of gone is there?”
Sasha reached for her glass of wine, took two hearty swigs, and set the glass back down again. “We’re going to need more information, and a lot more wine.”
I sat there—numb—without a thing to say.
Rae placed her hand over mine. “Callie, I know it’s hard for you to express your feelings sometimes, but Sasha’s right. We’re going to need a bit more to go on.”
“I got up this morning and made him breakfast, like I do every morning. Everything seemed fine.”
“Did you talk to each other?” Rae asked. “Was there any conversation?”
“It was a typical morning just like the rest. I had his breakfast on the table for him when he got out of the shower. He came in the kitchen, grabbed the plate, and took it to the table. I went into the living room and started folding laundry.”
“And then?”
“After he finished eating, he went to the bedroom for about fifteen minutes, then walked past me and said he was leaving, going to his friend Charles’s house. He’d packed a bag and everything.”
“Is there any chance he didn’t mean what you think he did?” Rae asked.
“No chance. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know, Rae. He’s gone. I think our marriage is over.”
Rae shook her head, and I knew she thought I was mistaken. She was convinced Josh loved me, so she started making excuses for him, wondering if he was going through a temporary breakdown. Sasha backed her up, both of them still assuming I was the one who had it all wrong.
“What makes you think it means he’s not just taking a break?” Sasha asked. “He didn’t actually say he wanted a divorce, right?”
“He didn’t have to say it. I know my husband. I know what he’s saying just by listening to the tone of his voice. Today his tone was saying goodbye for good. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, so he said he was leaving,” Rae clarified. “What reason did he give?”
I crossed one leg over the other, bit down on my lower lip.
“Wait a minute,” Rae continued. “Did you ask him why he was bailing?”
“I didn’t—”
The tears rushed back like a leaky faucet, refusing to be quelled. The floodgates had opened. There was no stopping it now.
“I ... umm ... didn’t ask.”
Rae’s eyes rolled back. “Callie!”
“What?! He said he was leaving; I gave him what he wanted. I told him to go.”
“How do you know that’s really what he wants? He’s a guy, for heaven’s sake!”
My frustration boiled over. “Look—I came here for support. Support for me, not for him. I’m not here for a lecture on how I could have handled the situation better.” I stood. “I gotta go. I’ll call you guys later.”
Sasha pointed at the sofa. “Sit your ass back down. You’re not going anywhere, sweetie. Not until we figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.”
“I believe there is.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, I’d love to know what it is you’re not telling us.”
I smoothed a hand over a wrinkle in my T-shirt. “I don’t know what you mean. I told you what happened today.”
“I’m not talking about today,” Sasha said. “I’m talking about the events that led up to him making a decision like this.”
“How should I know?”
“Oh, come on, Callie,” Sasha said. “You’re the most socially repressed person I’ve ever met—even around us. If you think about how things have been lately, really think about it, I think you’ll be able to figure out what happened.”