Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE OF CARDS COLLAPSES
By evening,
the house was a frozen tomb of shadows and resentment.
The water had been shut off an hour after the gas,
and the electricity followed shortly after the sun dipped below the horizon.
Eleanor was wrapped in three blankets,
huddled on the sofa,
glaring at me as I lit a few decorative candles I had found in the cupboard.
"This is elder abuse,"
she hissed,
her teeth chattering in the October chill.
"I’m going to tell everyone how you’ve treated me."
I sat across from her,
the candlelight dancing off my bald head,
making me look like a figure from a haunting painting.
"Tell them whatever you like,
Eleanor,"
I said calmly.
"But tell them the truth."
"Tell them that you attacked me in my sleep."
"Tell them that you destroyed my hair to satisfy your ego."
"And then tell them that you expect me to pay for your life while you treat me like a slave."
Daniel was pacing the floor,
his breath visible in the air.
"Emma,
stop this,"
he pleaded,
his voice cracking.
"We’ll fix your hair,
we’ll buy you wigs,
we’ll do anything."
"Just put the money back."
I laughed,
a short,
sharp sound that echoed through the dark house.
"The money is gone,
Daniel."
"I moved it into a private trust that you can't touch."
"And the house?"
I paused,
letting the weight of the next sentence hang in the air.
"The mortgage is three months behind because I was the only one paying it,
and I just filed the paperwork to surrender the deed back to the bank."
Daniel froze,
his face going completely white.
"You...
you did what?"
"I’m a 'proper wife',
remember?"
I said,
standing up and blowing out one of the candles.
"And a proper wife doesn't worry about complicated things like mortgages and property taxes."
"I’ve decided that we should move into a small apartment in the city."
"Something you can afford on your salary,
Daniel."
"Since you're the provider now,
I’m sure you’ve already looked into it."
He slumped against the wall,
the realization that he was losing his lifestyle,
his car,
and his home all at once finally breaking him.
He had spent years belittling my career,
mocking my long hours,
and acting as though my success was a personal insult to his masculinity.
Now,
he was faced with the reality of what his masculinity actually looked like without my bank account to prop it up.
Eleanor started to cry,
a thin,
pathetic sound that didn't move me in the slightest.
"Where will I go?"
she wailed.
"I have my heart condition,
I need my medicine!"
"I suggest you call your other son,"
I said,
referring to Daniel’s brother,
who hadn't spoken to them in years because of Eleanor’s interference in his own marriage.
"Maybe he’ll be more interested in a 'proper wife' who doesn't earn a living."
I walked upstairs to pack my bags,
May you like
leaving them in the dark,
surrounded by the silence they had earned.
