Your reverie: how it used to be.
Her lament: those days were vacant if not dismal.
Your relatives and friends are told how you “smothered” and “drained” her. She’s the victim. Now they’re on her side. Never blame the victim.
A sleeping bag and a pillow are placed on the couch in the basement.
You resist the expectation to validate, commend and comfort her.
You prefer to be on your own, especially when she’s home.
She asks that you not play “your” music in the house.
She now spends time with the sister she doesn’t like.
She bathes more.
She speaks with a therapist. It is inevitable she will leave. That’s how that shit works, moron.
No longer will she be a “satellite” or a “witness” to your world.
Her mobile number has changed and she frequently texts (You’re not the recipient). You must call the old number. She never picks up.
She invites new friends over to the house but requests your absence.
She drives the car you purchased but refuses to take you to work.
After a restless dinner, she departs. She returns in the early hours.
When she’s asleep, you’re elbow-deep in her purse. She did not lock her phone.
You’re home with the children. She’s out fucking someone she met at Yoga.
When confronted, she says it was her only option. You are accountable for her actions.
Late in the evening you find counsel in bourbon.
.....”What do you mean by that?”
You wish the worst for her.