The Space Between Promises by Rachel L. Jeffers Read Free Book Online

was irreparable. Gregory's tolerance would take a nose dive, and what had been a handful of angry outbursts would become more frequent, fueled by resentment and betrayal. And the Gregory that I loved would fade into a distant backdrop. The curtain would close and a new scene would unfold. I would lose my resolve, shrinking under the weight of his bitterness, and Nate would enter my world again, in my mind, where I had a voice.
    ***

The interesting thing about a secret is that you fear both the secret itself and you fear its discovery. You fear the lonely prison that comes from keeping the secret, never knowing when you will be discovered, only to feel a moment's freedom before you are delivered into the prison that waits. And so it was for me. Two years I would awake every morning and wonder if this would be the day Gregory would ask for a credit card bill, or ask how many cards I had taken out in his name without his knowledge, or ask how much debt we were in. And one day, when Maggie was just over a year old, he did.

On his way out the door, he stands on the stairwell and casually asks, "Exactly how much debt are we in?" The weight of his words strikes me quickly and painlessly. In a moment's time, I would feel a single breath of freedom, and I would exchange the shackles of the secret for a new prison. I would not waste my moment deliberating, excusing, or attempting to explain. I take that single precious breath and say clearly, without hesitation. "Ten thousand."

He doesn’t say a word, and when he walks silently out the door, I know it was the last brave thing I would do. All credibility, trust and faith were lost. It was out now, no longer my private burden to bear, although he would inflict the worst sort of punishment, and assume none of the burden.

The months that followed were a blur. I couldn't eat or sleep. I would hide when he was home, and shake all over when he entered a room I was occupying. He would ignore me for days, refusing to speak, and those days were the blessing. Other times I was not so fortunate. On those days he'd back me into a wall by inching closer and closer, and he’d scream at me, never touching me, but breaking my spirit just the same. "You're lazy! You refuse, absolutely refuse to obey me and get a job. We are sinking, drowning, and still! ... Still you refuse to work."

Within a few months I take the first job I can find, but it is only part-time and barely pays for groceries, so he is not swayed. Still, I keep the job for more than two years, pretending that the little money we were putting into a debt program was going to free us. It was not. But what else could I do but try to pacify him. He would go into quiet hibernation for a month or two where he would be docile, and then, he would emerge again, raging about my failures as a woman and a wife. "You call this a pizza? Throw some sauce and cheese on it and stick it in the oven? You can't even set the timer? Zero effort. That's what I get? That's what I'm worth to you? Throw it away. Make me some real food. Now. Comprende? I said, COMPRENDE?" "Yes, I understand. I understand you completely," I whisper, making my way to the kitchen where I would stand at the sink, feeling my chest tighten.
    In many ways, I already knew it was over between us. His contempt for me was profound, and his behavior toward me equally unforgiving. How could we ever get back to the place where we once stood? It's not as if words can be undone, or threats can be forgotten. It wasn't the debt that killed us. We never really had a chance from the beginning. He brought the anger into the marriage, and I would ignore the isolated threats and tirades once or twice a year. But this time, I was guilty of wrong-doing and because of it, he was free to unleash the beast he silently carried since he was a boy.

"You are not my wife anymore. I want nothing to do with you," he said one day, removing his wedding band. "I will look for an apartment. Until then, I