The Most Impactful Thing He Did After We Had a Big Fight
It was a warm Sunday afternoon and we were driving back to my place. We had shared a lovely morning together; brunch at my favorite cafe and a long walk along the ocean boardwalk in my favorite beach town. I gazed over at my boyfriend and smiled. “Life is good,” I thought to myself.
He interrupts my thoughts to tell me what he wants to do for the rest of the day (take a nap, hit the mall to get those shoes he liked then head back to his place for the night). My eyes pop open and I shoot him a glare.
He had been promising to fix the broken cabinet in the garage for weeks now. In fact, he had promised me (yet again) on Friday night that he would get it done for me this weekend.
So I confront him. And like a thunderstorm cracks without warning, all went haywire from there. I got mad. He got defensive. Within seconds, it was no longer about a broken cabinet. We went deep and we got there fast. We spiraled into a hurricane of accusations that triggered deep, unhealed wounds.
Before I knew it, we were pulling up to my house and I was jumping out before the car even slowed to a stop, shooting a few last choice words his way before I stormed off to my front door.
I can still remember the sharp peel of his tires as he sped away in a livid fury.
And I can still remember feeling a profound sadness that such a perfect, beautiful, magical day with my love was now utterly ruined.
I could have called him, apologized, and asked him to come back so we could resume our day, but pride wouldn’t let me. I stewed in my anger as it soured into a bitter sadness until I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out of the house.
I locked the front door and turned the corner to go to the detached garage. And then I froze. The garage door was open, and it definitely should not have been.
I walked up slowly, confused because I could hear noise from the garage.
