“Do you have any strong glue?” he asked.
I asked him what broke so I could get him the right kind.
“My soap dish,” he said. I said, “Oh that? Just toss it, we have a million of those things.”
“But (CHILD) made it and I want to keep it.”
“Are you sure? I think I made it, look on the bottom.”
He told me he already looked on the bottom and it was CHILD. He got really quiet and when I looked up he’d started to cry. He said, “If we don’t stay together, on days I can’t be with them, I want those little things that they touched. Like this soap dish.”
“Oh,” I said, “You know I’m not going to be a dick and keep you away from your kids if split up. You know that, right? Because I would never do that. Never.”
Still crying and trying to hold it in, he said, “I know that but I know I won’t see them everyday like I do now. So I want these things.”
“Okay, we can glue it back together.” When I said that, I honestly meant only the soap dish. I have no idea about the rest of what is broken in our home.
I wanted to scream at him about how when he was fucking other women he must have known something would break. I wanted to scream that he couldn’t have been that stupid for two goddamn decades. I couldn’t have married someone that fucking stupid.
I didn’t need to scream, he was already thinking that.