My Husband Could Never Find Out
He hadn’t come home last night. I was thankful for that.
I’d set my alarm an hour early, showered, styled my hair, and applied makeup while trying to stay calm. I then woke my eight-month-old daughter and fed and clothed her.
Five minutes before we needed to leave, I nervously glanced out of the window to check his car was not in the driveway. It wasn’t.
Returning to the bedroom, I reached under the bed. I pushed the box of shoes to the right, the box of purses to the left, and pulled the two neat bags from under a blanket. I slid the smaller bag into the diaper bag and I carried the second, a professional-looking tote to the kitchen. After buckling my daughter into her car seat, I peeked out the window once more — still nothing.
Locking the door behind me, I walked down the path to the driveway, holding my breath, and hearing my heart thudding in my ears.
Reaching the car, I quickly placed the diaper bag inside and edged the tote bag underneath the passenger seat. Then I opened the back door to click my daughter’s car seat into its base. Just as I heard the click, the sound of a car engine blared.
Oh great, Vin Diesel is back.
I closed my eyes, felt the color drain from my face, and turned around. My husband pulled up as I closed the car’s back door. It made me feel better to know our daughter was behind a sheet of steel.
“Where are you going?” My husband asked as he stepped out of his newly dented car. I stiffened. My eyes traveled over the dent.
“I’m meeting Deb. We’re going to the park,” I said, making sure to keep my voice steady but feeling my forehead crease.
“Which park?” He asked.
I recited the name and location of a park I had researched a week ago. He held my gaze for a second. I felt my palms begin to sweat at the thought of him seeing the contents of the bag under my passenger seat. If he found out where I was going, he would be furious. He had to be in control and became aggressive if that control was threatened.