Page 96 of Untying the Knot
“Well, I’m paying attention now.”
“It’s too late,” she says, hopping off the bed and walking toward her bathroom. I follow her as guilt tickles the back of my throat.
“So then tell me again. Tell me the truth about you.”
She sardonically laughs. “The truth will hurt you too much.”
She glances at me through the mirror, her reflection tired and worn down, just like mine. We’ve been at each other’s throats for the past few days, and it’s taken a toll on us. I’m not sure how we’re going to survive Napa. Hell, right now, I can’t see the point. The plan had been to use the three weeks to prompt her to talk to me. But there’s been no communication. Just acts of...nastiness. Yes, we used to play around and do pranks like what’s been going on of late. But nothing about my actions or Myla’s has felt like pranks. It’s been malicious. We’re at the end of the rope. She’s stayed quiet, I’ve stayed annoyed, and feelings have been hurt. I don’t even feel like myself anymore. I feel bitter and resent the entire thing. I’ve lost track of the real reason behind what I’m trying to do . . . fix things with my wife.Keep my marriage to the woman who has held my heart for the last seven years.
So her truth might hurt me?
I guess we’ll see about that.
“Try me,” I say.
“Try you? You want the truth?”
I nod. “Yes, I want the truth.”
“Okay.” She pushes her shoulders back, ready to unleash on me as she turns around and leans against the counter. “We started falling apart months ago, and you’ve been too blind to see it. You say I love you, and yes, Ryot, that much is true. Even though I want to deny it, I might never stop loving you. But I’ve just felt so...disappointed. In you. With you. And slowly but surely, that’s turned into resentment, and this might sting, but those feelings have turned into hate. I think I’ve hated you for a while now.”Shit. I was not expecting that. She’s right. It does sting.“You don’t care about my dreams or goals, Ryot, and you haven’t for a long time.”
“That’s not—”
“Do you want the truth, or do you want to argue?” she asks with a pointed look.
“The truth,” I answer, swallowing hard.
“Then don’t interrupt me and just listen.”
Listen. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, to listen to her talk. So even though this seems like it’s going to hurt, this is what I’ve been waiting to understand—this deep-rooted hurt she’s been carrying around. So I lean against the wall and do exactly what she wants, I listen.
“Many years ago, when we first started dating, you said something very validating to me. It was something like, ‘I’ll be honest with you, and when or if you ever decide to let me into your world, I won’t hurt you. I’ll only protect you. I will always listen to you, acknowledge you, and hopefully, make you feel as special as I know you are.’ And for the most part of our marriage, I’d say you were successful at that.
“When you retired early from baseball, it was as if this cloud cast over you, and you turned into a different man. You might not have seen it, but I did. I went through the emotions with you. The resentment, the anger, the bitterness. At first, that was directed at the sport you’d been expelled from. But slowly your motives changed. You’d always played with your heart and gave back to the fans who’d helped your career. Appreciated them and the others in your world who were a part of that success. Suddenly you needed to prove something, and I don’t even know to whom. Maybe yourself, maybe the fans, but you set yourself on a mission to prove to whoever was watching that you didn’t need baseball to be successful. You looked straight ahead, plowed forward, and you walked over everyone to prove yourself . . . including me.”
Her eyes well up with tears. She’s no longer pulsing with anger, but more dripping with anguish.
“You were hell-bent on creating The Jock Report, and I understand the importance of it, don’t get me wrong,” she says with sincerity. “I saw what happened to Penn. I even saw the reports and negative press about you. No one, no matter their status, should ever be treated so unfairly by the media. But you never even consulted me, Ryot, your wife. You never once sat me down and said, ‘hey, what if I work with Banner and Penn on starting this new app?’ At first, I thought it was something to help you and Penn heal, and that was okay, but then it grew and grew. Before I knew what was happening, we were moving and creating a new life I never wanted. And the worst part is, you never asked. You just assumed it’s what I wanted because it was with you.”
She wipes at her eyes, pulling the tears away and then rubbing them on her shirt. Fuck, I did this to her. I made her this upset, and everything she’s saying, it’s . . . fuck, it’s true. She’s one hundred percent right. One hundred percent validated. I never asked her.I plowed forward.
“And the problem with assuming, Ryot, is that you took it upon yourself to figure out what was best for us, but what was best for us wasn’t shutting me out. Nor was it walking all over me. This might sound selfish, but I’ve spent our whole relationship focusing onyourdreams. And I was okay with that because we had an understanding, a promise: that after you retired, we’d focus on a goal together, just you and me.” Tears are now flooding her cheeks, and there’s no point stopping them. “But when is that going to happen, Ryot? When were you planning on bringing your goals and your dreams back to me, back to us?”
She takes a deep breath, and when her eyes connect with mine, I know I’ve lost her. Right here, at this moment, I’ve lost her. I’ve let her slip between my fingers. I’ve handled everything so poorly, so immaturely, and so selfishly.
With one final blow, she says, “And I’ve tried bringing it back to us. I planned a vacation at Jason Orson’s cabin. I’ve planned date nights that you’ve canceled. I was even trying to tell you about the progress I’ve made with Renovate Chicago and the classes I’ve taken to make myself more valuable to our partnership. But it’s all been pointless, because, during the pursuit of your dreams, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Abandoned me. Like my dad. You’ve invested in everything outside of our marriage and nothingtoour marriage.And I just can’t keep fighting for something only one of us wants.”
She’s right. I have no argument.Fuck.
Looking back over the past couple of months, if I really think hard, I can remember those canceled dates. I can remember the trip to the cabin when I spent most of it on the computer. My neglect is unmistakable. And I promised her I’d never do that. That I’d always ensure she felt heard. Her pain, her anger, is justified.
Needing to say something, I start, “Myla—”
She holds up her hand, stopping me. “Don’t.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear your sorrys or your reasoning, because it doesn’t hold any weight. Whatever you say will be a reaction, not something that’s been well-thought-out. So for both of us, don’t apologize.”
I push my hand through my hair and say, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, when I asked?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you,” she answers. “Contrary to what you might think, I do care about you, Ryot, and I knew if I told you the truth, then you would be hurt, and I didn’t want that.”
