Someday in early November 2006. 7:30AM.
I was 7 months pregnant with Sky and I remember waking up with his tiny feet rippling on my tummy. I read a text from my mom and it read, “Hey, it’s J’s birthday today and we wanted to know what you wanted to eat for her birthday dinner tonight.”
“It’s not my birthday, why are you asking me?”
“Well, you’re the one who is pregnant, not her. You get to make that decision.”
“Dampa.” I answered, giddy with excitement. I was craving for some buttered garlic shrimp, deep fried salt and pepper crab and lato with loads of vinegar.
I asked D, my then husband if we could go. And he said yes! He didn’t have a flight and my parents and family were willing to brave the 2 hour traffic just to have dinner nearby – where I wanted to go.
I just had to make sure that I don’t say or do anything that D didn’t like.
It was early in the morning and kept myself busy and I did my best to do everything he wanted just the right way. So our dinner plans won’t change.
But, at some point in the afternoon, I must have said or done something that he disliked and he non-chalantly announced that he was not going to dinner with my folks and siblings.
“Can I do anything that would change your mind?”
No. He said.
“Can I go by myself then? I really want to have some seafood tonight. They’re on their way too.”
Yes. He said.
I was just excited to see them and visit. I was looking forward to seeing my niece most especially.
I bid goodbye to D while he sat and sulked in his man cave in our house.
It was 9pmish when I came back home. The house was quiet and as soon as I placed my things on the kitchen counter. That’s when I saw it.
You don’t love me.
You only love yourself.
Nobody made me dinner.
Written in black sharpie/pentel pen ink all over our marble kitchen countertop. My first instinct was to get some paint thinner and a rag and I started to rub it all off. Halfway through, I dropped the rag and remembered being pregnant and was exposing my little one to the fumes.
I started to cry and then I got angry. I grabbed a small dish and threw it against the wall. And immedietely swept all the shattered glass while I sobbed.
D was upstairs in his room, perhaps sleeping or just ignoring my painful cries that night.
I packed an overnight bag and texted my mom. “I’m home, thank you for dinner – it was nice seeing all of you.”
I drove myself to a motel and the manager took one look at me and offered me a room on the first floor – for free.
I sobbed myself to sleep that night, much like many nights in the past and many nights in the future.
The following day I drove myself back home and apologized profusely for throwing the dish that night. And once again, everything that happened yesterday was all my fault. I was too selfish, too self centered and I felt so…lost.