Page 98 of Untying the Knot
Her eyes fall to my signature. “Ryot...I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. You fought for us when I was too blind. Thank you for putting up with me.” I take a step back and stick my hands in my pockets. “And about tomorrow and Napa, don’t worry about it. I’ll just tell everyone that you had to be with a friend. Go visit Nichole. Be with her.”
“Ryot, I can go. It’s not a big deal.”
I shake my head. “It’s best you don’t.” And then with that, I head upstairs, where I lie flat, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, wishing like hell I could turn back time.
Her truth, the reason we’re getting a divorce is because of me.
I’m the one who fucked this up.
I’m the one who pushed her to the side for my own ambitions.
I’m the one who forgot about our plans for after baseball.
I steamrolled her.
I pulled her from her comfort.
And I’m the one who broke us.
I don’t deserve to be with her, not after the way I treated her. Marriage is about compromise, supporting each other, and helping each other live out their dreams. This marriage has been completely one-sided, and that’s because of me.
What a selfish fucking prick.
It’s good I let her go. She deserves to be set free.
She deserves to find her own happiness, happiness that I know doesn’t include me.
I spend the rest of my night allowing her words to slice me with every breath I take.
I replay the past couple of months over and over in my head.
And I think about how I could have possibly let our marriage—Myla—slip through my fingers.
Not that it needs an excuse because there is no excuse for treating my wife that way, but I was consumed. When I retired early, I had a shitty batting average, I wasn’t on top of my game, and because my arm was wrecked, the media devoured me with relentless, disparaging commentary. It ate me alive at night, to the point that I felt the need to prove to everyone, all the naysayers, that I didn’t need baseball to be successful. Myla is right. I did whatever it took to prove that. And I left her in the dust.
I took her away from her friends, Nichole in particular. I forgot about our promises for post-baseball life. I completely ignored her needs and desires.Her life.But knowing she felt so utterly abandoned, a deep trauma she’s tried to heal from? That is not what a loving husband should ever do.Imade her suffer. It’s unforgivable.You fucked up, Bisley.
It makes me physically ill, because I’ve watched her grow. I saw her fight through her negative thoughts and finally realize her worth, and therefore, exploited the chance she took on me. It was beautiful to see her grow in such a positive way. To know that I forced her to experience the ugly side of her upbringing again is inexcusable.
I need to apologize again.
I need her to know how sorry I am.
I pull out a paper and pen from my nightstand.
* * *
MYLA
Myla:He signed the papers.
Nichole:Wait . . . what? Just now?
Myla:Yes.
Nichole:How do you feel?
