“But I saw it in your hands,” I cried, looking from the tattered wig in my hands to his face, utterly perplexed at his reaction. The visitors continued to party behind us, oblivious to what was going on. The kids weaved in and out all around us, lost in their own world.

“Why didn’t you think it was the kids? Why did you immediately assume it was me?” he retorted with utmost indignation.

I felt the wailing rising from deep within me, stubborn tears of frustration that brought memories of all the other fights we’d had. It was always the same pattern: he, preening with utter indignation; me, wondering if his act was real or fake. Or if I was doing too much, saying too much, pushing him away. He had already succeeded in whittling my self-confidence to the point where I thought him staying with me was a trophy I needed to hold on to for dear life.

As I looked down at my wig, spoiled beyond repair, it suddenly occurred to me that he may be executing an elaborate and deliberate gaslighting to keep me in that state of mind and him in control of my emotions. This new thought startled me. The wailing gave way to pondering as I began to contemplate the possibility that he may have damaged the wig on purpose just to gaslight me. At the very least, he must not love me to be acting this way. If he did, even if he didn’t cause the damage, he would be concerned that something was causing me so much distress. Concern was definitely not what he was showing right now.

I slowly looked up at him again, watching his self-centered indignation with new eyes. The tears gave way to something else: clarity. Suddenly, I had clarity like never before. It wasn’t just the party in my living room that needed to end. The party of having this guy in my life had to end, too—enough of it! Strangely, I didn’t even feel sad. In fact, I felt relieved. It felt like a huge load I had carried for a long time finally came off my shoulders.

I set the wig aside and went to freshen up. I’ll be damned if I let this prick ruin my mood. I went back to the living room and partied with the guests. Not only did my body party, my soul danced, too, well into the night. I was giddy with both relief and happiness. There has to be something said about shedding emotional weight; that thing is therapeutic.

As the last of the guests said their goodnights, I noticed he was nowhere to be found. That was unusual. He’d probably huffed and puffed off to a pub with his friends, pretending to sulk while I worried myself sick, blowing up his phone and begging him to come home. Oh, but not today. Today, I have felt what it feels like to be free. I am never going back to the old me.

I locked the doors, put the kids to bed, and proceeded to pack up his things. Thankfully, in his huff and puff, he forgot to take his keys. It never used to matter because I’d usually be by the door, opening it for him as soon as I heard his car turn into the driveway. And he would come in like the Lord and Master in the house I paid for, preening while I groveled at his feet, begging him not to leave me. Oh, how foolish have I been?

Waves upon waves of relief washed over me as I packed drawer after drawer of his clothes. That was his only contribution to the house: his clothes—many of which I’d bought for him. This love thing is really something. A petty thought bubbled up, asking me to keep that which I had bought for him with my own money. But I banished the thought as soon as it came. You don’t get rid of vermin and keep its shells. What for?

Boy, was I glad I had empty boxes in the garage on a day like this. I stuffed his belongings into box after box and hurled them downstairs into the garage. It felt like I was cleansing my soul. When I was done, I dragged the boxes outside the garage door and left them there. Back inside, I locked the garage door and disconnected the remote access so that he wouldn’t be able to open it with his fob. We usually keep our fobs in the car and I didn’t want to take the chance that he might have it with him and use it to get in. With any luck, he would get the message when he sees the boxes outside.

I went and poured myself a celebratory glass of red wine. Lord knows, I needed it. As I drank, I looked around the kitchen, reminiscing about the drama that had taken place there earlier in the evening. I smiled wryly to myself, wondering why it took me so long to realize that the guy was a deadbeat. I guess it is what it is.

Upstairs, I put out some fresh sheets and changed the ones on the bed. I didn’t want his scent hovering over my nose as I went to sleep. And sleep I did, well and soundly for the first time in eight years.

“Mummy, he took my bacon!” “Mummy, I want cereal!” “Mummy, can I watch TV?” I heard the kids’ voices from what seemed like ten blocks away. I opened my eyes groggily to see my twelve-year-old twins bickering in front of me. I was surprised to see the sun shining through the blinds. “What time is it?” I asked sleepily as I stretched and sat up.

“It’s 10 a.m.,” my son replied, looking at me suspiciously.

“Mom, are you okay?” my daughter asked, drawing closer and placing her hand on my cheek. Oh, bless daughters and their caring hearts.

“I am great,” I replied, gathering her up into a bear hug.

“Mom, your phone is ringing,” my son said, pointing to the phone on the dresser beside me. By force of habit, my phone is always on silent mode. I glanced at it and saw fifty-three missed calls. Ha, now I remember the events of the previous night. I put the phone back down. No, I’m not dealing with this now.

“Mom, don’t worry, I’ve made breakfast,” my son said, immediately switching into his man-of-the-house mode.

“He took my bacon,” his sister whined.

“I’ll make you another, let’s go,” he replied in a conciliatory tone. He is so cute when he does that, almost like he has a sixth sense for when mummy needs a break. I beamed a smile at him.

“Alright, I’ll be down in a bit, let me freshen up.”

I don’t know how long I spent in the bathroom, but I took my jolly good time. Before then, I would have had the man snapping at me in five minutes, passing snide remarks like women like me have no business spending too long in front of the mirror. Oh, how good this freedom feels. I didn’t even know I needed it until now.

I came out of the bathroom to see my son setting a breakfast tray on my bed. “Oh, Tobi,” I gasped in surprise.

“I just thought you might want to eat here and maybe check your phone. Don’t worry, Tamara and I have eaten. We will be downstairs watching a movie,” he continued.

Oh my heartbeat, this boy is wiser than his years. “I… well… I…,” I stuttered, trying to find something to say. He just came around the bed and hugged me. I hugged him back tightly, wet bathrobe notwithstanding. “Thank you,” I said softly. He beamed up at me with the most gorgeous smile, then turned and left the room.

The food smelled delicious and I was famished. I gobbled it up greedily. Then I laid back in bed and reached for my phone. By now, there were sixty-seven missed calls and a gazillion texts—forty of them from the guy. I smiled to myself. What an irony; before now, I’d be the one calling his phone like that. The rest were from friends and family, mostly those who were at the party last night. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk just yet, so I started by replying to the texts first. That was simple: thanks for coming, you’re welcome… that sort of stuff.

A call came in as I typed and I inadvertently picked it. It was the guy’s best friend. “Hey, Garvin’s at my place. He said he couldn’t get in last night and couldn’t reach you on the phone, so he spent the night here. He’s pretty upset; please call him as soon as you can to apologize.”

I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help myself. I’m not sure if it was what he said I found funny or the fact that before now, I would truly have been calling and begging. But I laughed hard. “Enjoy your day, Todd,” I said, and hung up.

I’m sure he must have been shocked. They both were, because five minutes later my phone rang again and, well, well, if it wasn’t Mr. Upset Garvin.

“Do you realize how upset you’ve made me? How can you sleep through so many calls, you stupid—”

“How may I help you, Garvin?” I cut in calmly.

“Wh… what?”

“I said, is there something I can do for you at the moment?” I smiled to myself as I listened to the ensuing silence.

“You know what,” he finally replied, “I think I’ll just stay back at Todd’s today because I can’t deal with your nonsense.”

“Oh honey, you’re going to need to stay with him a lot longer than today,” I replied sweetly, “unless you have someplace else where your name is actually on the deed or lease.”

“What the hell are you saying?” he barked down the phone.

“I suppose it required more brains than you have in your skull to figure out the meaning of the boxes you saw in front of the garage last night. That’s if you truly came home last night.” Even I was surprised with how level my voice was as I spoke. The dead silence on the other end of the phone amused me, but I was done with this conversation; I wanted to get back to the lovely breakfast my son had made me. So I continued, “I would suggest you get those boxes as soon as possible because you know how much I hate litter. If they are still there by the time I go downstairs, I might be tempted to burn them or give them away to charity—although I don’t think any sane human being deserves your stench on them in any way.” I hung up and continued my breakfast.

Less than an hour later, I heard a car pull up to the front of the house. I threw on some clothes and went downstairs just in time to see Todd and Garvin walking from the garage around to the front door.

Tobi looked at me and asked loudly, “Mummy, do you want me to call the cops?” I smiled. I knew it was more for Todd and Garvin to hear than for me.

“No, my darling,” I replied equally loudly. “These gentlemen are just getting the boxes by the garage; they have nothing to do inside the house.”

Todd and Garvin stopped in their tracks, not quite sure what to do. After a brief moment, Todd called out to me, “Can we have a quick word, please?”

“No,” I replied, “there is absolutely nothing to talk about. You have a nice day.” I turned around to see my children smiling at me.

“Uncle Jay is almost here with a couple of friends,” Tobi said loudly, “we’re going to try out my new PlayStation.”

My heart broke as I looked at my son, wondering what my staying in such a toxic relationship must have done to him for him to feel so compelled to protect me. For him to even feel that I needed to be protected. “Thank you,” I mouthed to him, as I watched Todd and Garvin through the door.

They walked back to the garage and loaded the boxes into the car. I stood there watching until they backed the car out and drove out of sight. In that moment, I didn’t just free myself; I also freed my children.

—————–

Author: Modupe Ogunyemi

Email: moshortstories@gmail.com

Modupe Ogunyemi is a fiction writer dedicated to exploring the complex architecture of human agency and the breaking of toxic cycles. Through sharp dialogue and high-stakes narratives, their work examines the precise moment an individual chooses freedom over comfort. They currently reside in Ontario, Canada, where they are developing a series of short stories.