Go to the kitchen! I heard my husband sayand I couldnt take it anymore.
Emily stared at her phone screen. Andrew had texted her for the fourth time in half an hour: You daft woman, pick up the phone.
She sat behind the wheel of the learner car, her instructor explaining parallel parking. The phone buzzed again.
Can I answer? My husbands worried.
Of course.
Andrew, Im driving
Why arent you answering? Ive been calling!
I cant talk while
Right, got it. Passing your test is more important than your husband. When will you be home?
An hour.
Whos cooking dinner? Or should I do it myself?
The instructor looked away, pretending not to hear.
Ill cook when I get back.
Good. Thought Id married some high-flying career woman.
At home, Andrew scrolled through his phone on the sofa. Hed been out of work for three months, insisting it was temporary, but job hunting dragged on.
Hows driving school? Complicated stuff? His voice carried that familiar smirk.
Fine. Practised parallel parking today.
Oh, very serious. A proper science, is it?
Emily walked into the kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed disheshis breakfast.
Andrew, can we finally sort those boxes? Its February, and it still feels like we just moved in.
He glanced up from his screen.
Whats there to sort? You can manage.
We could do it together. Clean up while were at it
Andrew stood and stepped closer. Something cold flickered in his eyes.
Go to the kitchen.
He said it quietly, but sharp enough to cut. Not a shoutjust words, and the silence that followed was worse than any yell.
Emily froze.
What did you say?
You heard me. Make dinner.
We were talking about the boxes
Talking? More like nagging. I said you can handle it.
Something inside Emily snappednot from hurt, but from understanding. She remembered the New Years party at his mates, where hed charmed everyone, flirted with the women, helped the hostess.
In the car afterward, hed said, Why were you so quiet all night? Made me look bad.
Im not going to the kitchen!
He raised his brows.
What?
I wont go.
Emily, dont push me. We were having a normal chat.
Normal? When was the last time you spoke to me like a person?
Andrew put his phone down.
Whats your problem? I was only joking.
Joking? You daft woman, pick upthats a joke?
Cant I text my wife?
You can. Just not like that.
For Gods sake, whats the difference? You know I dont mean it badly.
I know. Thats why Ive stayed quiet.
Emily sat on the edge of the bed.
Know what my instructor said today? Youve got steady hands. Imagine that. Steady. But at home, Im afraid to ask for help with boxes.
Afraid?
Andrew laughed.
Oh, come off it!
I am. Because I know youll twist it, make me feel useless.
Thats rubbish! Youre imagining things.
Am I? Remember when you told your mates I was playing at driving school?
It was funny!
For you. For me, it was humiliating.
Andrew sat beside her.
Look, if you dont like how I talk
Then what?
The doors right there.
Silence. Emily looked at her husband. No apology. No explanation. Just a nod toward the exit.
Fine.
She stood, pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, and started packing.
What are you doing?
What you suggested.
Where will you go?
Sarahs.
Youll have your little tantrum, then crawl back. Like always.
Like always?
Women love drama. Slam doors, cry to their girlfriends.
Emily packed her documents, toiletries, charger.
Then come crawling home!
She opened the box of wedding photos, pulled one outthem at the registry office, happy.
Would you have spoken to me like this then?
Andrew glanced at the photo.
People were watching.
And now?
Now its just us. I can relax.
Emily placed the photo back gently. Zipped the suitcase.
Relax Right.
Wait. Lets talk.
Talk? Youve made it clear what I am to you at home.
In the hallway, she pulled on her coat. Andrew stood barefoot in joggers.
Dont be daft! All couples argue.
We werent arguing.
Her hand gripped the doorknob.
You just decided you could treat me like this now.
The door slammed. His voice chased her:
You wont get far!
Two weeks later, a text arrived: Meet me tomorrow. Ill make time.
Her friend Sarah shook her head.
Why bother?
I need to be sure Im right.
A café near the station. Andrew was half an hour late.
Howve you been?
He sat without apologising.
Fine.
Where are you staying?
Sarahs for now.
The for now slipped outan old habit of softening things.
Place is a mess. Dishes piled up, laundry not done. Thank God the neighbour helped with shopping.
The waitress arriveda pretty brunette, mid-twenties.
What can I get you?
Two coffees, Andrew said, smiling.
Anything sweet?
Our cakes are lovely
Bring us the best.
He slid off his wedding ring, set it on the table.
Now theres no one to nag about chores, Ill treat myself.
The waitress giggled.
Can you cook?
Course! Mans got to eat. At least no ones moaning about socks on the floor.
Emily watched the ring.
Or begging for help tidying.
He kept going. Right then, she realised he was turning their marriage into a joke for a stranger.
So, he turned back, end of the show? Its dull without you.
No.
What?
Im not coming back.
For the first time, Andrew looked at her properly.
Seriously?
Yes.
She stood, left money for the coffee.
Wait. You know what youre doing?
I do. For the first time in months.
Emily! Were adults!
Exactly. Thats why Im leaving.
Outside, sleet fell. Through the window, Andrew chatted to the waitressprobably complaining about his unreasonable wife.
A month later, Emily rented a flat. Passed her test. Started a new job.
Once, she spotted Andrew in the supermarketlaughing with a younger woman, picking groceries. She walked by unnoticed.
She wondered: how long before he tells her, Go to the kitchen? A month? Two?
That evening, Emily stood by her window with tea. Her phone lay silent on the table. No more texts calling her daft.
She thought of the women who stay, who believe he doesnt mean it, that all men are like this. Not with judgment, but sadness.
Her phone lit upa colleagues message about tomorrows meeting. Polite, professional.
Emily smiled, replied. Then sat on her sofain her own home, where she could ask for help without fear.
