Behind Her Cloud

“Nicholas.”

I close my eyes as I hear her voice echo through the corridor. There’s something about her voice that makes me react physically. Not positively. It didn’t used to be this way.

When did it all change?

I could slip out the backdoor, and she’d never be the wiser.

“Nicholas, honey.”

I grab my keys and bolt toward the exit. I need time to think. To figure out what to do. This isn’t working. It hasn’t for a while, and I can’t keep fooling myself otherwise.

I open the door when the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I feel her eyes on me before I see her.

Too late.

“Where are you going, honey?” she asks in her sugary-sweet voice, which I know is just a superficial façade hiding the boiling volcano inside her.

My head droops. I nearly made it. I slowly turn around and plaster on a smile. I’m not sure how long I can keep faking it, pretending to be happy when I’m not.

“Out,” I respond and walk over to her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. That should stop her from asking more questions.

“That’s a none answer, honey,” she responds with a giggle. The sound is saturated with suspicion and accusations.

I don’t lie to my wife. I might not tell her every single thought, feeling or decision I make, but I keep her updated on the important issues to keep up appearances.

“I’m meeting up with Ben.” That’s more than I wish to tell her. For now.

“You’re always out with the boys, babe…you never make time for me.” Her whiney, complaining tone is like nails running down the blackboard in my office.

“You know that’s not true,” I respond, but the arguments I’ll make are going to be futile. Whatever I do for her, or how much time I spend with her, is never enough. “I took you out last night to your favorite restaurant,” I remind her, but the pout she puts on every time she’s unhappy with me tells me my grand gesture was subpar.

No surprise there.

“You weren’t present, your mind was way off in La La Land, and you didn’t touch me when we got home.” She curls her arms around my neck, so I’m forced to look at her. My arms wrap around her waist in mechanical motion. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Janelle, you’re my wife.” I can’t tell her that the spark has died. That would be unkind. This is my punishment for ignoring friends’ warnings before we walked down the aisle. My head was stuck in the clouds, and I was blinded by…something. I blame myself. And I’m paying for it.

She pouts and stomps her foot like a five-year-old. “Then why are you always off with the boys doing who knows what, with who knows whom, coming home late, smelling like a brewery and an ashtray? Do you think that makes me feel wanted?”

That only happened twice.

I hold back the frustration building up in my body, because she always does this. She has a way of making me feel guilty for no reason. She goes out with her girlfriends on a regular basis without checking in with me first. I honestly don’t mind. My problem is this rules-for-thee-but-not-for-me attitude. It’s exhausting.

Telling her she’s being silly will definitely rub her the wrong way. So, I choose to let my lips do the talking. I tighten my hold on her and press her against the wall. My lips claim hers and she melts into my body. This is the language she’ll understand. My words mean nothing to her.

She sighs, and I’ve got her exactly where I want her. It’s always been my secret weapon when she tries to control my movements.

I press my forehead against hers, our breaths mixing. “Ben is waiting,” I mumble against her lips, and she pulls me in for another deep kiss. I give in, before I free myself, pressing a light peck on her forehead. “Don’t wait up,” I say and open the door.

“Where are you guys going?” she asks, almost frantically and I don’t get why she’s determined to know every single detail of where I am at all hours. It’s suffocating.

Each time she demands an answer, I cave. Seemingly. “To the Tipsy Fox. Don’t wait up.”

I leave it at that and walk out.

Once I’m out, I brush the back of my hand over my lips as if erasing the feel of her lips from mine. I take a deep breath. And the tightness in my chest unravels.

But it’s only temporary.

***

“Leave her,” Ben suggests, emptying his pint. It’s tempting.

Could I?

“It’s not that simple,” I groan. It’s a conversation we’ve had multiple times, and I’ve never considered separation, let alone divorce. I couldn’t.

But now…

When Janelle and I first met, it was fireworks. I fell for her. Hard. It was the perfect meet cute, as they call it. She came to my office asking for legal advice. Her vulnerability and story captivated me from the start. Needless to say, I didn’t take her on as a client, as we became something more.

We married two months later, to the utter dismay of friends and family. But I was head over heels. And when she told me she was pregnant, I knew what I had to do. It was a no brainer.

In hindsight, I’m not sure I would’ve proposed if it hadn’t been for the baby.

I was thrilled to become a father; I couldn’t contain the excitement. And I was ready to take on the role.

Sadly, we lost the baby a month after we got married.

We’ve been trying to get pregnant ever since, without result. To this day we’re still childless. And it has put its toll on our marriage.

Soon after our wedding Janelle’s erratic behavior became more obvious. She became more controlling, and dare I say…manipulative? In the beginning it was sweet when she texted me when we were apart, whether I was at work or out with friends.

It stopped being adorable.

The texting turned into long-winded voicemails. Then she started turning up at my office unannounced. Checking in on me at all times. Later I found out she had put a tracking app in my phone, so she could follow my every move. I thought she was acting this way because we lost the baby.

When I brought it up and suggested she get help, she denied all of it. She was lying, obviously. But what could I do. I couldn’t force her to tell me the truth or get help.

When I didn’t respond right away to her frequent calls she started texting my friends, which was a nuisance. I never ignored her calls. At least not in the beginning. But now, it’s gotten out of hand.

Just before leaving the house, I found out something that shook me to the core. The last straw. I instantly needed to get out of there and decide what to do next.

“You’re miserable, man,” Ben says ordering another pint, and my phone pings right on cue. I know it’s my wife before I see the message.

Janelle You’re not at the Tipsy Fox, are you?

The only reason she would know is if she’s tracking my movements. My proof it’s gotten out of hand. I don’t respond, which rewards me with a string of messages, my phone shaking up the table.

Janelle Where are you?

When are you coming home?

I’m getting worried.

Please text me.

Why are you lying to me?

I have news!

It’s good. :)

Her last message catches my attention, but still, I don’t respond. I can’t. I turn my phone face down. But it’s hard to ignore it.

“You’re not acting yourself tonight.” Ben complains. He’s right. I haven’t been myself for years. I’ve been a shadow of myself for too long, fumbling in the dark, with a clouded sense of reality.

I contemplate how much I should share. With a bit more liquid courage, I decide to bare it all. “I just found out Janelle has been on birth control for the past five years.” The words flow like an AI messenger, devoid of all emotion, character and soul. Just hard facts as I stare into empty space.

He stops the glass halfway to his mouth, shocked by my revelation, instantly recognizing the severity of what I’m disclosing to him. “That means she…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I nod. There’s not much to say. He breathes out and empties his glass. “That’s all types of messed up.” I couldn’t agree more. “That’s borderline psychotic.”

Well, I wouldn’t go as far as that.

“What are you going to do?”

It’s a fair question, but I have no idea. I’m still trying to digest the news I found out by pure coincidence. “I’m not sure,” I admit.

“You’ve got to leave her.”

I shrug my shoulders, because it’s an option I never considered before. “Let’s see.”

I slam the empty glass onto the table. I need to get back to Janelle before she blocks up my inbox. Understanding and empathy passes between me and my friend. I can’t avoid the elephant in the room anymore. I need to have a serious talk with my wife.

“Let me know if you need a sofa to crash on,” Ben calls after me as I walk out chuckling to myself.

At least I have a place to crash.

***

The lights are still on as I walk through the door, and Janelle is waiting for me in the hallway. Fresh-faced, smiling from ear to ear. I can’t fake it.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she chimes happily and throws herself into my arms while I lock the door.

“I was only away for two hours, love,” I remind her in a monotone tone. I’m not in the mood for whatever she has in store for me.

“I know, I just missed you,” she says and drags me into the living room. “I have great news, and I can’t wait to tell you.”

I flop down onto the sofa and rub my temple. I feel a headache coming on. “We need to talk, Janelle,” I say, ignoring her joyful mood. I can’t let her distract me from the real issue.

“Me first!” she singsongs.

I look up at the woman I used to love but has been deceiving me for three years. Maybe longer.

But I guess if I’m going to leave her, I can grant her this last request to go first. “What’s the news?” I sigh exhausted.

“I’m pregnant!”

The words slam against my face like a bucket of cold water.

But this time my mind isn’t veiled in cloud.

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