Disgrace

He walked out on me and didn’t look back until he was forced to do so.

But still, I loved him even though he didn’t feel the same.

No one back home knew we had separated—not even my best friend, Autumn, or my sister, Judy. I told those two everything about my life except for the parts that made me cry at night. I didn’t have the nerve to tell anyone my husband hadn’t been mine for months now. If I told them, then that would’ve made me a failure, and all I ever wanted was for Finley to somehow begin to love me again.

I oftentimes wondered when he’d stopped.

Was it one singular day, or a string of moments that merged?

Did love disappear because of heartache or boredom?

Maybe a little bit due to a disconnect?

Can something disconnected ever be plugged back in?

“One more go-round?” I asked Finn as we stood in our empty living room. He’d driven back into town to sign the paperwork on the closing of our house, and he hadn’t truly said much of anything to me.

My stomach had been in knots when he arrived. In my mind, I’d envisioned him showing up with flowers, some wine, and maybe telling me that he wanted me to be his again...but in reality, he showed up cranky, empty-handed, and fully ready to move on.

“No, I think we’re good. Let’s go to the bank, sign the paperwork, and then call it a day. I have a five-hour drive back to Chester, plus I still have to work tomorrow,” he grumbled, running his hands through his hair.

I didn’t have a clue why he seemed so annoyed.

He hadn’t seen me in months, yet the moment he stood by my side, he was once again unhappy.

He hardly even looked my way.

What I’d give for him to look my way…

“I’m just going to look around once more,” I told him, trying not to sound so heartbroken even though everything within me ached.

“We already looked twice.”

“Just once more for memories.” I smiled, slightly nudging him in the arm. He didn’t smile back, just glanced at his watch.

“We don’t have time for this. I’ll meet you at the bank,” he told me, walking away. He never glanced back once as if leaving me was the easiest thing he’d ever had to do.

I supposed after you walked away once, it only became easier.

I stood there, still a bit heartbroken, but when I heard him clearing his throat, I turned around and stared his way.

He looked up at me, and now I wished he hadn’t. His eyes held all the hurt I felt in my chest. “Look, I didn’t want it to end like this,” he told me.

I sighed.

I don’t want it to end at all.

I didn’t reply. No matter what I said, it would still be over.

He had made a choice, and it wasn’t me.

“I…it’s just…after everything…” He cleared his throat once more, taking a few moments to search for words he couldn’t find. “You closed yourself off, Grace. You made it impossible for me to even come near you, and…I mean, Jesus! We hadn’t had sex in over a year.”

“You had birthday sex.”

“Yeah, sex only because I turned thirty-two—what kind of life is that? And you kept your socks and tank top on.”

“I get cold.”

“Grace.” His voice was stern and annoyed. I wondered when I’d started to annoy him. Had it just been lately, or had it been that way for years?

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “Don’t be sorry. I know what you went through was hard and impossible, but dammit, I was there for you, and you wouldn’t let me in.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d shut him out. I’d shut everyone out; it was the only way I knew how to avoid self-destruction.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

He took one step toward me, and I prayed he’d take more. “Grace…say something, anything other than you’re sorry. See, this is what pisses me off. You’re so passive-aggressive with everything. You don’t talk; you just keep all your feelings in your head.”

“That’s not true,” I argued. At least, it didn’t used to be true. There was a time when all I ever did was express my heart to Finn. Then there was a time it all became too much for him. He never said it, but his facial expressions revealed his truths. Whenever I cried, he’d roll his eyes. Whenever I voiced my pain, he’d tell me it was late, and we’d talk in the morning.

Morning conversations never came, and then my voice slowly became mute.

Maybe that was what love is, though: something that fades over time and then becomes hauntingly still.

“It’s true,” he asserted confidently. Everything Finn did had a layer of confidence to it, and that was a major reason I’d fallen in love with him. He walked the earth as if he knew he belonged, and that was such a powerful trait. He was two years older than me, and when we first met at my parents’ annual summer gala, everyone’s eyes were on Finley James Braun. He was Chester’s finest. If you ended up with Finn, you ended up blessed.