I sat there at that walnut table and couldn’t breathe.
Divorce.
Because I’d answered his sister. One time. In seven years.
I reached into my purse with shaking hands. I took out the folded lab orders. I took out the little wrapped onesie.
I set them both on the table in front of my husband.
“I’m pregnant, Thomas,” I said. “Twelve weeks. I was going to tell everybody at dessert.”
He stared at the paper. He picked up the onesie and unfolded the tissue.
COMING THIS SPRING.
For one second, I saw something in his face. Something soft. Something like the man I married.
Then Brenda laughed.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “That’s convenient timing.”
Thomas looked at her.
“I’m just saying,” Brenda said, shrugging. “He says the word divorce, and suddenly she’s pregnant. That’s the oldest trick in the book. She’s trapping you, Tommy. She knows the money’s going to run out.”
I waited for my husband to say something.
Anything.
“Brenda, stop.” “Brenda, that’s my wife.” “Brenda, get out.”
Thomas looked down at the onesie in his hands.
He didn’t say a single word.
Joan went back to cracking pistachios.
I stood up from the table.
“Emma,” Thomas said. Not getting up. “Sit down. Don’t be dramatic.”
I didn’t sit down.
I walked out of my mother-in-law’s dining room. I walked out the front door. I drove home to our house in Lakewood. And I packed one suitcase.
One.
A few changes of clothes. My laptop. My prenatal vitamins. My grandmother’s ring. A framed photo of my parents.
Thomas came home at ten o’clock. He found me standing in the front hallway with the suitcase.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To my parents’. In San Diego.”
“Emma. Come on. You’re overreacting. It was one dinner.”
“You asked your pregnant wife for a divorce,” I said. “At your mother’s table. Because I answered your sister.”
“I was angry. Brenda was pushing me. You know how she gets.”
“And then she said I was trapping you. And you said nothing.”
He opened his mouth. Then he closed it.
“You’ll be back,” he said finally. “You always fix everything.”
I picked up my suitcase.
I booked a seat on the 6:40 a.m. Southwest flight from Love Field to San Diego. And I left.
Seven years of marriage. And it all fit in one suitcase.
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
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