Not What I Expected

by Jewel E. Ann

  They nodded.

  Everything would be okay. The hardest part was over. We’d tell the twins later. We’d work through the anger and make the divorce amicable for the kids. Craig and I would be bound for life by our four children. Eternity was a long time to hold a grudge. I refused to do it.

  Later that day, the kids headed off to be with friends. I considered calling the twins, Chase and Linc (Lincoln), but I thought it would be best to let Craig in on the conversation after he cooled off.

  However, he didn’t come home that night. Only one other time in our marriage did he leave and not come home until the next day. It was when we had a fight over him losing his temper with Bella when he caught her vaping late at night in the front yard with friends. She’d just turned fifteen, and I wasn’t happy either. We simply disagreed on the appropriateness of making a huge scene in the front yard, embarrassing her in front of her friends, and waking up the neighbors and all dogs in a mile radius.

  “Stop telling me how to parent my child! I don’t tell you how to discipline the kids!”

  I replied with, “Take a breath, Craig.”

  He sped off in his truck, spent the night with Leroy, his buddy from college, and came back the next morning with his head hanging and a much calmer demeanor.

  So I wasn’t surprised when the “ending our marriage” announcement didn’t bring him back home the same night.

  “Are you worried?” my friend, Amie, asked as we chatted on the phone around one in the morning. We’d been best friends since fourth grade and still lived in the same town of Epperly. She was a chiropractor and my most trusted sounding board. Asking Craig for a divorce wasn’t a surprise to her, just the timing—on the cusp of Christmas.

  “He’ll come home. He’s impulsive and his ego gets bruised easily, but he loves his kids. I know he’ll want to plead his case or make his feelings known to them. I just hope it doesn’t involve throwing me under the bus. We really need to be civil about this. I refuse to let this turn into a taking sides situation.”

  “That’s very mature of you. I think a lot of couples try to be mature at first, but when it’s time to discuss splitting assets and sharing kids, things get messy. You remember how it was with Travis and me. And we only had a dog and some furniture to fight over.”

  I sighed, leaning back on my bed and picking at the frayed hem of my long-sleeved tee. “I’m going to move out and let him stay here in the house he paid for …”

  Amie laughed.

  “And when Bella goes to college, we’ll sell the house and spilt everything fifty-fifty. I won’t ask for a dime from his business, even though I helped keep it going all these years. He can keep his investments. I don’t want any of it.”

  “Well, it’s an outdated food specialty store with nothing special, Elsie. You can do better. But he made some really smart investments when you first got married. I wouldn’t let that go so easily, especially since some of that money was inheritance from your grandparents. You have half a degree. Go finish it. I agree. Let Craig keep the soft cheddar cheese, rolls of turkey sausage, and tins of caramel corn. Sorry, but it’s all outdated—even for Epperly’s low standards.”

  “Right?” I rolled onto my side, burying my nose in Craig’s pillow.

  What happened to pheromones? I was crazy for his scent when we met. Clean, sweaty … it didn’t matter. My nose always went straight to his neck. I stole his sweatshirts just to wear his scent.

  My nose scrunched as I rolled the other way onto my pillow. What happened? I was no longer attracted to anything about him. It wasn’t that I hated him … even if I hated some of the things he did or said. The passion was gone. The attraction died too.

  “Amie, he didn’t see it coming. Not even a tiny glimpse or subtle vibe. The look on his face was that of complete shock. Like … how could he not sense it?”

  “Because you married him. You took the for-better-or-for-worse vows. You’ve been together forever. You have four kids. It’s called insurance. You’re more relaxed when you know you have insurance on something. It doesn’t guarantee nothing will go wrong, but you’re covered. You know? Or really more like a contract. The reason you get married is so it’s not so easy to just walk away. Right?”

  “No. I got married because I was raised to think you needed to get married or you’d go to Hell.”

  “And you wanted all the women who used to chase your husband to back off.”

  I rubbed my hand over my face. “True. Where did those days go? The days of being insanely jealous. The days of wanting to jump him the moment he walked into the house. I used to wrap my arm around him and slide my hand into his back pocket when we were in public just so other women would know he was mine. Now …” My heart constricted.

  I wanted to still feel that way about him. It just wasn’t something I felt anymore, no matter how hard I tried. And I couldn’t fake it.

  “Now you secretly hope other women notice him. You secretly hope he notices them. You’ve been secretly hoping—”

  “He’d end it first.” I finished her sentence.

  “Being faithful isn’t a flaw.”

  Grunting a laugh, I stared at the ceiling fan slowly turning. Craig was always excessively warm, so I had to live in a house with the thermostat set at sixty-five degrees year-round and the bedroom ceiling fan always on.

  Not that night.

  I climbed out of bed and shut it off.

  “I know being faithful is not a flaw, but it would have been so much easier if we would have fallen out of love together the way we fell in love together. Selfish? Yes. But it’s my truth.”

  “Falling out of love is not a flaw either, Elsie. So don’t beat yourself up over your feelings that you can’t control.”

  Turning on the bathroom light, I put my phone on speaker and set it on the vanity while I shed my clothes and slipped on a nightshirt. “I’ll beat myself up because I don’t have control over my guilt either. After all, it is a feeling. And it’s just how incredibly petty it sounds when I list all the things about him that drive me crazy. Like … not a single one by itself would warrant a divorce, but all of them put together are just too much.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir. Travis had a million little things that drove me crazy. Squeezing the toothpaste in the middle. Using my kitchen towel to clean messes on the floor then putting it back on the counter as if I wanted to use a dirty towel to dry my clean dishes. But let’s be honest … it was the trunk that pushed me over the edge.”

  “The socks?” I tore off a piece of floss.

  “YES! Gah … it was ridiculous. Fine, I get it. You don’t want to wear your dirty work boots home and get the floor mats of your car muddy but toss your socks in the passenger’s seat before you put on your flip-flops so you remember to take them inside. Right? I mean … I was just blown away when I opened his trunk and found literally over fifty pairs of smelly socks in there. And the odor was horrendous. I swear to god I tasted it.”

  “Exactly! Some things are just gross. And I’m not implying women aren’t gross sometimes too. I just think we’re more likely to be self-conscious about things like that or at least receptive if someone brings our attention to it. I’ll never forget the time we had a bad storm and the garbage got delayed almost a week, which meant we didn’t empty the trash container in the bathroom, and I’d had my period. A week’s worth of tampons … Craig mentioned the ‘special odor’ from under the sink, and I was mortified. Since then, I’ve taken out the bathroom trash every single day during my period week.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I have to go. Someone’s at the door. Probably Finn. Bella forgets over holiday breaks that she’s not always the last one home, and she locks the door. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Chin up, Elsie. You’ve got this. I’m proud of you for finally telling him you want out of the marriage—even if your pre-holiday timing is shitty.”

  I frowned, slipping on my robe. “I know. It just … happened.”
<
br />   “Night.”

  “Night.” I disconnected our call and headed downstairs as Meadow waited patiently at the door for me to answer it. “Did your bro get locked out?” I leaned down to ruffle her fur as my other hand opened the door. “Oh …” I stood straight and tightened the sash to my robe as my stomach coiled into a nauseating knot.

  I didn’t expect two police officers.

  Finn had been arrested six months earlier during a protest that got out of hand. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but my thoughts immediately went to wondering “what he did this time” to get into trouble. He wasn’t a bad kid. He just had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  But … it wasn’t Finn.

  “Elsie Smith?” The female officer questioned.

  I nodded, narrowing my eyes.

  They identified themselves and asked if they could come inside.

  Again, I nodded slowly.

  “Is this about Finn?” I asked, shutting the door behind them.

  “No, ma’am. Is your husband Craig Smith?” The male officer asked.

  “Yes …” My voice cracked on that one syllable.

  I knew.

  I knew it before they said the words.

  My heart fractured before they had a chance to do it with their news.

  Blurred vision.

  Ringing in my ears, making it hard to hear the words.

  The room spun as bile worked its way up my throat.

  “Is there anyone else home with you?”

  “M-my daughter,” I whispered as the tears leaked from my eyes and all the air left my lungs.

  I. Just. Knew.

  “Your husband was involved in a serious collision about an hour ago. As a result of the injuries he sustained, he died. We are very sorry for your loss.”

  Chapter Three

  I miss him, but I don’t miss pictures of his turds.

  * * *

  Ten months later …

  “Elsie, do you have anything to share today?” Rhonda asked. She waited all of two seconds before moving on. “How about you, Beth—”

  “I do,” I said, my voice monotone, my gaze lifting to meet Rhonda’s face. A rare first.

  After Craig’s accident, I spent a solid month grieving and wallowing in the fact that I was responsible for his death. Granted, I didn’t kill him with my bare hands, but he wouldn’t have been on that road at that time in that weather had I not announced my need to end our marriage.

  Days before Christmas.

  After the first month, I let myself slip into the anger phase. That lasted another month or so until I finally found home in the warm cocoon of denial. My grieving didn’t take the normal psychological pattern. To appease my family and friends, I joined our church’s grief group for women only. They had one for men too. Christians were fair like that. Apparently women opened up better around other women.

  Not me.

  I didn’t open up to anyone until … ten months later.

  Months of attending the group.

  Months of keeping my dead gaze to the paisley carpet.

  Months of listening to other women, who had lost their spouses, talk about their regrets and pray for God to do something magical in their lives to show them the way. They thanked God for His comfort and assured Him that they understood it was all part of His plan.

  “I trust His plans for my life.”

  “I know my husband is with Him in Heaven.”

  “I’m grateful for all of the other ways He blesses my life daily.”

  “I feel my husband’s presence like a guardian angel sent from God.”

  “It’s His will, not mine.”

  They felt guilty for their anger and prayed for peace and acceptance. They apologized for their anger and asked for grace and forgiveness. They spent hours and hours sharing stories about their husbands.

  Their amazing husbands.

  Great fathers.

  Spiritual leaders.

  Missionaries in their own communities.

  They all lost perfect men. Or so it seemed.

  “Oh, Elsie, please … go ahead.” Rhonda couldn’t hide her enthusiasm, and I didn’t miss the perked ears, wide eyes, and straight spines of the other women in the group, salivating at the thought of me finally speaking.

  After ten months, I emerged from my grief coma. Praise the Lord!

  Secrets … I had this huge secret. Some days, keeping it felt vital to my existence. Other days, well, I wanted the truth to come out, even if it meant leaving Epperly to escape the gossip.

  Four living people knew.

  Only four.

  After the news of Craig’s accident, Finn suggested I—we—not tell Chase and Linc about the fight, about me wanting a divorce. He didn’t see what the point would be when it no longer mattered. I thought it was a terrible idea. After all, I felt guilty and needed to confess my part in his death. Then Bella spoke up, also thinking I shouldn’t tell Chase and Linc or anyone else for that matter.

  Maybe they didn’t want the truth on top of the already horrific reality. Maybe they knew how painful and unbearable the real truth was, and they wanted to save their brothers and everyone else from that pain. So I agreed not to tell anyone. The truth stayed among us—me, Bella, Finn, and Amie.

  The roads were bad that night. Craig hit an icy patch on a bridge, and he lost control. Praise the Lord he didn’t kill anyone else.

  Still, it didn’t settle right with me. I killed him.

  My not-so-perfect husband.

  “Craig left dishes sitting around everywhere. I had to presoak everything before it could go into the dishwasher. He never understood why it bothered me. He dismissed my irritation with, ‘You could have it worse. At least I’m not a drunk and I don’t cheat on you.’ And he was right. I could have had it worse. I just hated that I couldn’t take issue with anything he did and not be labeled a complainer.”

  After a few blinks, I scanned the room. The faces studying me held odd expressions.

  Shock?

  Pity?

  “I know.” I chuckled shaking my head. “I don’t speak for months, and the first thing that comes out of my mouth is something negative about my dead husband. I’m going to Hell, aren’t I?”

  Rhonda cleared her throat and slid the pendant on her necklace back and forth. A forced smile bent her matte red lips. “Maybe we could pray for you.”

  “That I don’t go to Hell?” I quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “No. Just asking our Lord to—”

  “Grant used to trim his beard and leave the whiskers in the sink. If I dropped my contact lens, I’d have to throw it away.”

  Everyone shifted their attention to Jennifer. Her husband, Grant, died of a heart attack five months earlier.

  “And…” she continued “…he’d trim other parts of his body and sweep the hair under the bathroom scale. The first time I found it, I swear I thought someone had shaved their entire head in my house. I blamed the kids.”

  “Jennifer, dear … I’m not sure this is productive—” Rhonda made an attempt to intervene, but Kathy cut her off.

  “Rick used to dribble urine down the front of the toilet, but he always said it wasn’t him. I knew it was because he also had pee spots on the front of his pants. Like … would it have killed him to stand there a few extra seconds to give it a little shake?”

  A few women snickered, but not Rhonda. I stayed silent, not anticipating my ill manners instigating such confessions.

  “Eddie used to order fries from McDonalds, tear off the corner of the ketchup packet, and alternate between squeezing the ketchup into his mouth and shoving fries into it like he mastered the perfect ratio of fries to ketchup. When I asked him why he couldn’t just dip them like a normal person, he said he wasn’t that boring.”

  A few more people laughed.

  “Jared used to sing along to every song on the radio, and he didn’t know any of the words. He’d just mumble random stuff and ruin the song for
me.”

  “When I was at work, Eric texted me a photo of his turd in the toilet. He couldn’t believe it came out of his … uh … backside. And he compared it to me giving birth. As if …” Kelly rolled her eyes.

  That made everyone laugh, even sour-faced Rhonda cracked a smile before ending the meeting. “Time’s up. Let’s pray.”

  So … we prayed.

  And afterward, several women cornered me in the church foyer.

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Bethanne hugged me.

  I stiffened in her embrace. You’d have thought I saved her child’s life or something heroic like that.

  “For?” I returned an awkward pat on her back.

  “Saying what no one else has had the courage to say.” She released me and sighed with a huge smile. And tears … yep, those were tears in her eyes.

  “That my husband left dishes everywhere?”

  “No, silly.” Pam grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You told the truth.”

  I didn’t tell the truth. Four people knew the truth.

  Pam continued, “You weren’t afraid to share the imperfect parts of your marriage. We’ve all been so afraid to be completely honest. Of course, we miss our beloved husbands, but if we were to be honest like you, not every day was a walk in the park.” She looked right then left and lowered her voice. “Not every night ended in an orgasm. And no matter what anyone says … size matters.”

  Bethanne nodded.

  Craig never had size issues, but I understood where they were going.

  “Speaking of size … did you happen to get a glimpse of the new guy in town?” Bethanne fanned herself with her hand in spite of the cool forty-degree day.

  “New guy?” I squinted.

  “The store across the street. Kaylee messaged me right before our meeting and said they just put up the sign. It’s called What Did You Expect?”

  “The store is called What Did You Expect?”

  “Crazy right? But … not going to lie, I’d go into it in a heartbeat just because I’d have to see if it’s what I expected.”