I Stopped Chasing Him After Ten Years And Never Looked Back Chatper 05
A month passed.
Jared started doing small things I’d never seen him do before.
Like, after dinner, he’d put his plate in the sink.
Before, he’d just get up and leave, leaving the plate on the table for me to clean up.
Like, sometimes he’d say “I’m leaving” before heading out.
He never used to say that.
Like, on weekends, he stopped going out to play basketball, stayed home, sat on the couch, and glanced toward the study every now and then.
I was in the study, drawing.
Recently, I’d taken on a few freelance design jobs online. An independent bakery had hired me to design a logo.
The pay wasn’t much, three thousand dollars.
But it was the first money I’d earned in six years of being a stay-at-home mom.
When the transfer came through, I sat at my desk, staring at my phone screen for a long time.
Three thousand dollars, which wasn’t enough to cover Cora’s monthly preschool tuition.
But it was mine, completely mine, with no need to report to anyone or explain to anyone.
I locked my phone and went back to drawing the next draft.
That Saturday afternoon, Jared walked into the study.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, watching me draw.
It was the first time in six years he’d voluntarily come into the study.
“What are you drawing?”
“A logo design.”
“For who?”
“A client.”
“What client?”
My pen didn’t stop moving. “A bakery.”
He was quiet for a moment. “When did you start doing this kind of work?”
“Last month.”
Silence returned once more.
I could feel he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start.
In the past, at moments like this, I’d jump in to fill the silence, give him an out, “Did you want to say something? It’s okay, go ahead.”
Now, I didn’t. If he didn’t say it, I acted like it wasn’t there.
Finally, he stood up, said “Oh,” and walked out.
As the door clicked shut, I heard him turn on the TV in the living room.
The volume was low.
Before, when he watched sports games, he’d turn the volume all the way up.
Today, for some reason, he’d turned it way down.
Like he was afraid of disturbing someone.
Cora has changed a lot lately, too.
Before, she was always so careful at home, never daring to speak loudly.
Because she knew her mom was often in a bad mood and her dad was often impatient.
At six years old, she lived like a forty-six-year-old, reading the room, being tactful and worldly-wise.
That’s the thing I regret most about her.
Now that I’ve stopped chasing Jared, my mood is steady.
Cora laughs so much more at home now.
Last week, she took a brush and drew a purple rabbit next to my sketch.
“Mommy, I’ll help you draw!”
“Okay, Cora draws the prettiest.”
She giggled, her laughter as clear as wind chimes.
I looked at her profile. She never used to dare laugh this loudly at home.
When that realization hit me, my nose stung.
But I held back the tears.
Not because I wanted to be strong, but because I didn’t want her to see her mom cry.
She’d seen too many years of it.
Enough was enough.