18th Anniversary
Yesterday was our 18th anniversary. I was concerned about how I would handle it; knew I would feel something, but didn’t know what I would feel.
Turns out, he made it easy on me by being himself. I also reacted to him in a predictable manner. What he did, what he said, turned me inside out. It affected me all day. My thoughts about the incident were different, but my reaction to it was all too familiar.
So anyhow, yesterday he wanted to come out here to pick up a lawnmower and the boys. He got here around 9 AM (he later yelled), but didn’t stop to knock on the door or let me know he was here, and I didn’t realize he was on the property until almost 9:15. I made sure the boys had their stuff together and told them their father was in the back.
Both boys went out to greet their dad, but Eddie returned inside almost right away. Around 9:25 or so, Marc (who had been calm and seemed happy earlier) came charging into the house yelling at Eddie to get to the truck and telling me “Mom, take a pen and go sign the taxes!” This kid was panicky…quite a change from before. Instinctively I knew “something was wrong” out there in the garage near my husband.
Nevertheless, I had been asking him to get the taxes done since mid-February because he wouldn’t let me see his W-2 until last week, and then only on the promise that I wouldn’t file. I knew I had to get out there to see the forms. I didn’t take a pen though. I was NOT going to sign the taxes without having the opportunity to look them over. Last year, if he had them prepared I would have signed no questions asked. (That wouldn’t have happened though – I usually did the taxes myself and he signed off on them.) But this year? No way in hell was I going to sign documents for the IRS without KNOWING what they said.
I entered the garage and there was Will, red-faced and apparently annoyed, using a tool on the old mower. His father stood over him, looking uncomfortable and maybe even worried. I don’t know what his father was feeling, but that’s what it looked like to me.
I asked, “What’s up?”
He barked, “You have to sign one paper for the taxes so I can give them to [his friend the tax preparer] this afternoon.”
I said, “I’m not going to sign anything until I look them over. I’ll give them to you tomorrow when we meet back with the boys.”
All hell broke loose. “Kellie sign the goddamn taxes! It’s the same number you figured up, all you’ve gotta do is sign! I’ve got to turn them in today! There’s only one paper you need to see, to sign – ”
And that is where I cut him off (kind of, he was still saying something) and said, “I’ve been asking for you to do the taxes since February, but you waited until now. I am going to look them over today and I will give them to you tomorrow if they look all right to me,” and walked out.
As I was leaving to grab the documents from his truck, he yelled, “YOU DIDN’T MAKE ANY OF THE GODDAMN MONEY ANYWAY!” but instead of retaliating, I kept walking to the truck.
At this point, I’m wondering to myself why he only wants me to “see and sign” one paper. I’m suspicious. I’m thinking that he’s trying to bully me into doing something that could result in bad stuff for me.
I open the truck door, see the brown folder on the passenger seat, and step up and lean in to grab it. Suddenly, he’s right behind me yelling, “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING TRUCK!”
I startled, but grabbed the folder and backed out of the truck. I half expected him to yank me away from the truck, but he didn’t touch me.
When I got to the ground, he grabbed the folder, opened it and took out the document giving permission to file electronically. He gave me the paper and told me to sign it. “Stop the DRAMA QUEEN shit and sign the paper!”
I said, “I’m not signing anything before I look at what I’m signing!” and took the folder from his hands. I turned away, started walking up to the house. I was afraid he was going to come after me, so I watched for his reflection in the glass sliding door at the back of the house as I walked toward it.
He didn’t come after me.
I was safely in the house, but my heart was pounding like wildfire. I felt the fears and apprehension, I felt the pain and heartbreak. But I also felt so very proud that I had NOT done as he said. I was proud of myself for not taking a pen outside with me. And I was proud of myself for not engaging him when he tried to insult me. But I was shaking.
I went to the office and opened the folder, started looking through the documents. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to consider them until I had calmed down, so I put everything back into the envelope.
Right then, he banged on the side door to the office (from outside the house).
“What do you want?” I asked from the desk. I knew what he wanted, but I didn’t want him in the house and that was the first question to come to mind.
“GIVE ME THE GODDAMN TAXES!” he yelled through the door.
“No, not until I look them over,” I replied, more calmly than I felt.
“YOU AND YOUR GODDAMN DRAMA! GOTTA MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING!” and he slammed the screen door HARD, then drove off like a mad man with my babies in the truck.
Shaking hands. Shaking heart. I didn’t get to hug the boys goodbye or even wave at them because I was afraid to exit the house. I walked around, trying to shake it off. I grabbed up my phone and texted Eddie saying, “R U okay? I didn’t like how the truck drove off with my babies. I miss my hug! I love you”
Walking, pacing, shaking my arms.
Phone rings. Caller ID says my husband’s name. I don’t pick up.
And I ask you, WHO exactly is the DRAMA QUEEN?!
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April 11th, 2010 at 12:28 PM
You have to love tax season, it brings out the best in some people. I hope that you celebrated your anniversary by acknowledging that you are in a better place and a better situation. It might feel lonely right now, but you are going to come out of this feeling good about yourself.
I almost had to laugh at your account of yesterday’s situation. That sounds like someone I knew, but with one twist…after yelling at me he would have tried to turn it around so that he was actually the one suffering somehow because I caused all of the grief. And then he would have wanted to have sex so that he felt better about himself. So predictable now that I’m not in the situation anymore.
You made good and strong choices yesterday. Keep moving forward with us.