A/N: I changed my publishing plan and decided to post two chapters before I make the entire story available for purchase. So, you get one today, and I'll post the next one by December 1st, along with the link to purchase. (Practical note: the book title in this chapter is not a real book that I'm aware of. Sorry to the author if it is.) Also, to clarify, the purchasable versions of my stories are about Natalia Torres and Bridget Reid.

Beta thanks to Muriel and JJ!

Chapter 25: Frame

As I drove, the anger I'd felt earlier when I realized Jamie had lied to me spilled over. How dare you ask me to play the role of the dutiful politician's wife, looking after your image and smiling for the cameras when you were being so reckless? You were canoodling with another woman, in public, while wearing your wedding ring, in the middle of a crisis at work. Mission: America could take that and run with it, printing a picture of you and M as proof that people who aren't straight are reckless and deviant.

I was pulled into an undertow of angry tears. I could hardly see, I was crying so hard. I decided to pull over until I could breathe. I let myself be wracked with sobs until I was too tired to keep crying. The image of you leaning into M and caressing hands played over and over. It was astounding to me that such a small touch could feel like a knife to the belly. When I couldn't cry any more, I put my face to the window of my car, hoping the late November chill would help the puffiness go down.

But as I thought about it, I felt sick for another reason. What if all of Columbus found out and I got strange, pitying looks everywhere I went? Or what if people thought I did something wrong? Something to make you run into another woman's arms? That would be worse than what I was feeling now, which was hard to imagine. All at once I understood why my sister had been so ashamed about Justin.

I had to decide what I was going to do now. Now that I knew what was going on, I had to take action. Would I confront you? Ignore you? Go stay with my sister in her new apartment while I figured out what to do? Getting away from you seemed the easiest, but that would mean leaving the kids, who needed me to take care of them until you got home from your board meeting tonight. I couldn't decide whose needs were greater. Should I continue along the path we've been on, pretending I am none the wiser? Or do I change our course?

I knew I couldn't do anything drastic. I couldn't go stay with my sister for a night. The thought of spending even one night away from Caleb and Ruby right now made me start to shake.

I was halfway home when I decided I didn't want to sit in our house of lies alone, and I really needed to pee. Looking around, I realized I was a block away from the library, one of our safe havens when the kids were potty training. I could use the bathroom and sit in the quiet there, knowing no one would find me in the stacks until I wanted to be found.

I parked and walked inside, looking at the ground so my hair would cover my blotchy face. I used the restroom and then wandered into the library. I automatically headed for the children's section, feeling foolish when I realized I didn't have Caleb or Ruby with me. I walked past the adult fiction section to the back corner. As I sat down against the wall with my knees pulled up to my chest, I caught the label on the shelf in front of me: Self Help: Relationships.

Some things can't be escaped.

Heavy, I leaned forward and hooked my finger over the binding of the closest book, pulling it out and examining the cover. The Marriage Medic. That sounded appropriate. Right now our marriage makes me feel like I'm dying. I doubted a book could resuscitate me, but I was willing to entertain any suggestion, any approach, any splinter of advice.

The first chapter was devoted to explaining the fundamental differences between men and women, and how those differences played out in a marriage. Skipping ahead to something actually useful, I picked chapter seven: Top Ten Mistakes Women Make That Bring Down Marital Satisfaction. I opened it to the correct page number and sighed. Number one was Smothering: Asking for attention, affection, reassurance. It was all too familiar.

I realized that over the past year, I'd smothered our marriage to death. I started crying again, burying my face in my hands to muffle any squeaks or sniffles.

I sat on the floor in a corner of the library for a long time. I looked at the titles of other books, but I didn't read them. I put The Marriage Medic back on the shelf. I glanced at the section labeled Infidelity but I couldn't bear to take a book out. When I started to feel stiff from sitting on the floor, I walked around until I felt like my legs were about to collapse under me.

I still didn't know what I was going to do when I got home. Should I confront you? Ignore what I'd seen? Ignore you?

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at it. It was a text from Hayley.

I hope Justin feels bad about this some day.

Hayley's confrontation with Justin hadn't gone well. She'd stayed with us for two weeks before she found her own place, a studio downtown that she hated. I'd helped her move out of Justin's place, all the while wishing there were some way to reverse what Justin had done. But there wasn't. My sister was heartbroken and angry and above all, scared.

"What if that was it, Britt?" she'd asked. "What if he was my chance? I'm almost thirty! The odds of me getting married and having kids and a wonderful life like yours are getting slimmer every day..." She sniffled and shuddered as we hauled boxes out of my car. But all the while I was thinking that my life wasn't as beautiful and glamorous as she thought it was. Being married with children is not always the happily-ever-after you see on TV. If anything, my life was a facade.

I'm going to be single forever :( Hayley texted. I should start hoarding cats now.

I could hardly bring myself to reply.

You'll find someone, I assured her.

No one wants to date me, Hayley wrote back.

Special people can only be with special people. Sometimes it takes awhile for them to find each other.

When she didn't respond after a few minutes, I realized how empty my consolation must have been. But in truth, I didn't know if I believed it any more. I thought I'd found my special person; it's always been you. But maybe I'm not special enough for you.

I steeled myself to reply to Hayley some more. If there's one thing I don't want to happen, it's for our problems to bleed over into my parenting and work and my relationships with my parents and sister. I was going to focus all the energy I had - which wasn't much, since it takes all my concentration to fight the nausea threatening to overtake me - into being the better in every other part of my life.

I swallowed my nausea down and typed out a reply as I got to my feet. You'll feel better soon. But in my head, I was thinking how phony it sounded. My life hadn't gotten better.

Will you come over for a little bit? I'm lonely :(

Hayley's plea gutted me, but I couldn't be around her right now and keep myself together. So I lied.

Sorry, I've got the kids with me. Soon, though!

As I walked out of the library, I thought about what Hayley had done after she found out Justin had cheated. She'd confronted him about the emails and texts and demanded an explanation. He had lashed out at her, telling her she was crazy for invading his privacy.

Our family doesn't talk to Justin anymore, and that didn't bode well for what would happen if they found out about you and M.

I know Justin and Hayley's situation is different than ours is. We own a house together. We're married, and that means more to me than words or rings or papers can signify. And above all, we have two beautiful children neither of us would ever want to hurt. If nothing else, we will always have that.

So while I entertained the idea of confronting you about M, I decided not to. I didn't want you to get angry and yell at me. It wasn't that I cared about that fact that I'd invaded your privacy; at this point all I wanted was to keep the frame of our marriage intact so I wouldn't have to pack boxes and move into a crappy apartment like Hayley. I didn't want to have to explain to my parents and my sister what I had happened. And above all, I didn't want our kids to feel like they had to choose a side. I would never make them do that. They're children. I will suffer any fate to protect them and their innocence.

Thinking about how your betrayal could impact our children made my heart hurt even more. My stomach was upset and I felt weak and shaky, but the thing that made me hurt the most was the thought of Caleb and Ruby being scared by what was happening between you and me. I decided that even if I was a total mess right now, I wanted to put effort into being a good mom. That was one thing I could control.

I let my mom know she was off the hook for the afternoon and went and picked Caleb and Ruby up from school. When Ruby saw me sitting on the bench outside her classroom, her face broke into a grin and she ran towards me, burying her face in my lap, wrapping her arms around my waist. I patted her back and murmured how happy I was to see her. Because really, I was. She is a treasure I will have my whole life, and her uninhibited joy at my mere presence settled my stomach a little. I was so grateful for our little jewel in that moment.

She stood up and showed me the artwork in her hand, a messy finger painting with cotton balls glued onto it in the shape of a snowman. "See, he's wearing his coat!" she said, showing me where she'd tried to color one of the cotton balls with a pink marker. "He won't melt!" I hugged her tighter, using all my strength to not cry, and told her I wanted to take her and Caleb to get cocoa. She asked if she could have cookies with her cocoa and I patted her on the cheek and said, "Nice try."

Caleb was happy to see me too, but he was more suspicious. He relies on his routine to ease his anxiety, and he knew something was wrong if I was picking him up instead of Gramma Vickie. As he greeted me with a hug, I felt like he was registering my upset stomach and shaking hands with his own. He held my hand through the parking lot as Ruby danced and skipped a few paces ahead of us, even though he outgrew holding my hand a few years ago.

We went to get cocoa, taking it to-go and making a plan for the afternoon. When we got home, I heated up a pot of chicken noodle soup and told Caleb and Ruby to collect every blanket in the house and pile them on the couch. When the soup and nest of blankets were done, we snuggled up together and watched the old claymation Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer. Ruby chatted through the movie, saying Rudolf should be proud of his ruby red nose because it's special. I pulled her closer into me, hoping her warmth would make my chest stop aching. It loosened but didn't let go.

You got home late that night, after the kids had gone to bed. My stomach churned when you walked in the door. I hadn't been able to eat much, but I was certain whatever was in my stomach would come up if I had to touch you. You sighed as you set down your briefcase and slipped off your shoes. Then, to my horror, you walked over to me and put one hand casually on my hip. The same hand that M had touched earlier. It burned into my skin.

Frantic but paralyzed, I turned my face to the wall so you couldn't kiss my lips. You gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and patted my side. "I'm gonna do some work," you murmured. You turned and looked over your shoulder as you walked into your office. "Did you have a good day?"

My throat was stuck.

"Ruby made a nice art project." It was the only thing I could think of to say.

"Yeah?" you asked, already sitting down at your desk and opening your laptop.

I watched you, noticing how the flicks of your wrist and the way you settled into your chair now looked different. Everything about you was different. You were not the wife I kissed goodbye this morning. Maybe you never were.

You noticed my silence, because you looked up from your desk with a soft, fatigued smile. "You're a good mom, Britt," you said. "We're lucky to have you."

Hearing you say nice things when you were doing otherwise made my stomach hurt more, so I turned and went upstairs.

The next few days were marked with the same sick paralysis I'd felt since coming back to our house after seeing you with M. The only times I didn't feel frozen were when I had one of our children in my lap or by my side. They were my safety. I know Caleb noticed something was wrong, because he started following me around the house, offering to help with the dishes and laundry and sitting closer to me than usual on the couch while we practiced his reading. He still did his homework with you every night, but he didn't have the same anxious magnetism to you that he did with me. I felt bad about absorbing every ounce of comfort he could give me, but I didn't know any other way to get through the day.

"Britt, what's going on?" you asked after a few days, giving me a concerned frown. "You're acting really strange."

I shrugged and avoided eye contact.

You bit your lip and eyed me. "Are you getting sad again?"

I didn't know how to answer that question honestly. I'd been fluctuating between devastated and furious. But depression and finding out my marriage is a sham are different things.

"Nope," I said, trying to get you to stop blaming me for our problems.

"Are you still taking your medicine?"

I scowled at you. How dare you suggest I was intentionally sabotaging our family.

Seeing my expression, you retreated. You knew you'd gone too far. "Sorry. I know you wouldn't stop without telling me. Is there something I can help with?"

"You've done enough."

Your brow crinkled as you masked your guilt. There was a pause before you said, "Um, okay... I was thinking about going away for a weekend together like you suggested. I can take some time off at the end of January."

I shrugged again. "If you want."

I couldn't meet your eyes. The thought of going on vacation with you, knowing there was an expectation to have sex and relax and try to disguise something you'd tarnished made me feel sick. I couldn't entertain the idea for more than a few seconds. Luckily I had the perfect excuse not to go. "But Ruby has another tae kwon doh exhibition that weekend."

"Your mom can take her."

I shook the suggestion off. "She'd be mad if one of us didn't make it."

You studied my face for a minute and I did everything I could to mask the anger and hurt.

"Okay," you said quietly. "Let me know if you change your mind."

I got up and left the room, knowing I wouldn't change my mind. You'd made it up for me.

Some people might argue I was being a pushover, waiting for you to decide where we were headed. But I didn't have the energy to decide. In times when I feel weak, I am glad you are so strong. You'll know when you're ready to change things. Even if I'm never loved again, I have experienced the deepest love imaginable. Nothing lasts forever. I get to live the rest of my life knowing that once upon a time, I had a happily ever after. Now our children are what bind us together even though your love has faded. Because of them, I won't be allowed to forget. And through them, I am showered with love every day.

There are worse things than faded love. I still have a roof over my head and food to eat. I'm willing to live with the way things are now if it means I don't have to change or move or be separated from our beautiful children. Maybe it's sad. If I left, maybe I would eventually fall in love with someone else. But my life with you is the only one I ever dreamed of. It's familiar and safe, and for that, I'm willing to compromise. You are the only home I've known. Even if our house is haunted now, I would never choose to be homeless.

Two weeks before Christmas, bad things started happening. Right before my lunch break ended - I eat alone now - I got a text from you.

You told me you said no comment to Mission: America.

I knew I was in deep trouble. When I got home there would be curses and yelling and your angry glare as you asked me what the hell I'd been thinking. I'd known it was coming. I had hoped, with that clenched feeling in my belly that has become my constant companion lately, that it wouldn't blow up the way I expected it to. But of course it did.

I read the text again.

You told me you said no comment to Mission: America.

That was all it said.

But it said so much more. It said there would be no peaceful family dinner or chaste goodnight kiss. It meant that I had to stop being upset about M because I had made a mistake that could cost you and hundreds of innocent domestic violence survivors their security. I had put your job in danger. Even if our marriage is in serious trouble, I would never do anything to jeopardize your career. And yet I had.

I pulled up the Mission: America website and read through the newest article. Every word was a dagger hurled in your direction. I could hardly read the first paragraph without wanting to punch my computer screen.

Santana Lopez-Pierce, JD, is the executive director of one of the largest nonprofit organizations in the state of Ohio. But has she poisoned this previously pristine organization with her propaganda? Sources say Lopez-Pierce, 36, is a staunch promoter of homosexual activity. She helped write the gay marriage initiative when she was just months out of law school and has since been associated with other contaminating agencies. One look at her resume, viewable via search engine, as well as news articles, including her marriage announcement, confirm Lopez-Pierce's association with the gay agenda.

Since being appointed Executive Director of the Domestic Peace Center, Lopez-Pierce has grossly mismanaged funds, channeling thousands of dollars into so-called "diversity trainings" for her employees, where they are forced to attend seminars held by gay propagandists.

When asked about the how the organization is taking advantage of women and children going through the worst of times, Lopez-Pierce's "wife," Brittany Lopez-Pierce, 35, stated, "I think she's doing a great job. I'm sure [the organization] would serve more people if they had the funding."

It is clear to us at Mission: America that Lopez-Pierce's employees have been roped into promoting the homosexual agenda. We have received confirmation that the Domestic Peace Center is turning away higher numbers of clients than ever before, and we can't help but be curious if those who resist Lopez-Pierce's agenda are being denied services.

I was so angry and so sick, I started to itch as my face burned and sweat prickled around my neck. Not only was the article worded in the worst possible way, it looked like I'd thrown you under the bus. Even if you've hurt me more than I ever imagined you could, I'm not one for retaliation. I would never do something to jeopardize your livelihood.

As soon as I could breathe, I started to prepare a defense for when I got home.

I was quoted out of context. If I had known who I was talking to, I would have hung up without saying a word. I'm sorry I put your job in danger. I'm willing to go on any record, any time, to try to fix it.

But when I got home, you pretended it hadn't happened. You helped Caleb with his homework and made sure Ruby cleaned up all her art supplies. I could feel you were tense, holding back from yelling at me. We've been holding everything back from each other lately. Maybe that's why we're still able to stand being around each other.

But I was willing to take responsibility for what I'd done. I'm an adult and it was the right thing to do. Your indiscretions don't change the fact that I'm a person who apologizes for my mistakes.

After the kids went to bed, I went to find you downstairs. You were unloading the dishwasher, your hair still in the tight bun it had been in all day. I stood in the doorway and watched you. You were rigid and zipped up. I needed to know what you were thinking.

"Is work a total mess because of the article?"

You inhaled through your nose and exhaled in a gust. "I have a lot of crap to deal with in the next few weeks."

I nodded, trying to read your body. It wasn't giving me any clues. "Are you mad at me?" I asked.

You bit your lips and paused. "You were quoted out of context and I know you wouldn't have said anything if you'd known who you were talking to. It was an honest mistake."

There was a pause as you slid a plate into the cabinet.

Your shoulders let go a little bit. "Yes, I'm mad, but blowing up at you for something you didn't mean to do won't help our marriage. And honestly, it was probably the least offensive part of the article. Anyone with a brain would know you didn't say that."

I nodded, still unsure you were really capable of containing the anger I imagined you were feeling.

You continued. "I'm trying to keep my work and personal life separate right now. I know I haven't been putting enough effort into our marriage, and I don't want this to add to the list of things I'm doing wrong. Expressing my anger won't do any good when things aren't great with us. It'll blow over." You batted your hand through the air as if to convince yourself it wasn't a big deal.

I was surprised to hear you say you weren't putting effort into our marriage. You're having an affair, which is not very good wife behavior, but do people have affairs and work on their marriage at the same time? It didn't make any sense. But nothing makes sense these days.

Hearing you acknowledge your shortcomings aloud made my heart tighten. You'd given me a tiny window to look through, and as I did, I was reminded of when things were better. It reminded me that, despite everything, I still love you.

You'd said it would blow over soon. Did you mean the article, or the rough patch in our marriage? Because I don't think craters blow over.

"Okay, well..." I said, looking around. You hadn't given me any idea of what I was supposed to do. "If you have anything you want to tell me, I'm here." I shrugged, knowing you wouldn't tell me about M or your feelings.

You nodded, placing a stack of bowls in the cabinet. "I'm going to try to keep work and family extra separate for a while." You shot a tight smile over your shoulder as you leaned back towards the dishwasher. "I'll be here with you and the kids, same as always."

I bristled at that. How could you pretend things were the same as they were a year ago? A year ago we were so much happier. We enjoyed each others' company. We had regular sex. We didn't seek refuge from each other in secrets or work or other people. We've always confided in our friends, but we've never been secretive.

I went upstairs and got in bed, angry and confused by your forced placidness. It was just one more lie you were telling me. I was tired of lies.

The next day you texted me on your lunch break.

does Ruby want the pink or purple tea set for xmas? im at Target.

I texted back pink, of course. I almost added a smiley face, but I didn't. You weren't giving me anything to smile about. But I did appreciate your help with the Christmas shopping. I guess you were putting effort into pretending you cared about our marriage by caring about our children.

The next week felt like I was dropped on a conveyor belt towards Christmas, with hoops of fire and smashing fists and other cartoon perils I had to avoid if I wanted to survive. You had taken care of shopping for the kids - you've shopped for our kids since the day my pregnancy test came back positive - but there were gifts for our friends and family, and cookies to bake, and donations to make, and a million other details I had to force myself to care about. But in a way I was glad I had so much to do. Focusing on tasks prevented me from falling into a pit of despair. I didn't want that to happen until after Christmas. I needed to have one more Christmas in our house.

You didn't seem to share my panic. True to your word, you were trying to keep work and home separate. I know you were working overtime to deal with the Mission: America debacle, but when you got home, you switched gears.

Seeing that the frame of our family was intact even if the heart was gone soothed some of my nerves. I still felt sick all the time and had a hard time eating and sleeping, but I wasn't in a constant state of turmoil. Feeling hollow started to feel normal. But the dark side of that was that, once I adjusted to the new way things were, my mind started to wander. I wondered what had happened between you and M. How long had it been going on? How many times had you snuck off to lunch with her? How many times had you -

I choked, trying not to vomit at the thought of you naked with another woman.

Or worse, telling another woman that you love her.

I poured all my energy into being the best mom I could be. The kids and I decorated cookies and took them to our friends, spending a long afternoon at Julie and Zoe's and Elinor and Danielle's. I got to meet Julie's boyfriend, Owen, who was friendly and warm. He seems deserving of Julie. I hope he doesn't break her heart.

A week before Christmas, Principal Collins poked her head in my office.

"Brittany, in my office please," she said in a commanding tone. It wasn't threatening, but the way she spoke told me I probably shouldn't stop in the staff room and check for pastries on my way. I put away the files on my desk and locked my filing cabinet before walking towards her office. As I did, I wracked my brain for what she could want to talk to me about that could be so urgent. No one else was in her office when I got there, so I took a seat, smoothing my skirt over my knees as I did.

She shut the door.

That wasn't a good sign. Principal Collins is an open-door kind of a principal.

"I'll just get right to the point," she said, sliding into her chair behind her desk. "One of our teachers overheard some students talking about something that happened last week and I wanted to get your side of the story. The students in question reported that you drove them to a location off campus after school. Did that happen?"

Her face and voice weren't threatening, but I could tell she was deeply concerned.

I nodded. I had driven two students off campus after school one day. I'd driven a few students after school since I took this job. I know it's against the rules during school hours, but I was pretty sure after school was okay.

"It was after school hours."

Principal Collins exhaled through her nose. "We have a strict school policy about that, Brittany," she said. "It's a liability the school can't afford."

I nodded. If I put up no resistance and admitted what I'd done was wrong, hopefully I wouldn't be disciplined.

"Then there's the matter of where you were taking them."

It's not like I'd been driving them to the mall or anything. If I spend all day promoting being responsible when it comes to their reproductive health, I need to put my money where my mouth is and help them get access to I done something else wrong? While I had been driving my students, thoughts lurked in the back of my mind about perhaps being more covert or finding another ride for them. But I rationalized that it wasn't a big deal to make sure my actions matched up with the things I advocate for.

"Where did you take them?"

"To the clinic."

Dr. Collins pursed her lips and closed her eyes for a second. "Do you understand why that could be problematic?"

I shook my head.

"It looks like you're encouraging students to have sex, Brittany."

That was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard Dr. Collins say. I frowned at her. "They're going to have sex anyway."

Dr. Collins shook her head. "We can't encourage them."

"I'm not encouraging them, I'm making sure they lower the risk of a bad situation," I protested. "I'm the health teacher. I spend a good chunk of the year lecturing them about sexual health and safety. If a student is taking steps to be responsible, I support them. I don't see what the big deal is."

"You can't do that in this position," Dr. Collins said, continuing to shake her head. "This is a serious disciplinary problem, Brittany. You shouldn't have students in your car and you absolutely shouldn't take them to the clinic. Especially since - and I know this is a sensitive subject," she said, glancing around, "Your marriage is viewed by some as 'alternative.' People have wrong ideas about that sort of thing."

Our marriage may be many things, but it's not alternative. It's a regular marriage. Not a good one, but I supposed that's regular too. But what stunned me was the fact that she was bringing up the fact that I'm married to woman in the first place. Who I'm married to should have nothing to do with how my ability to do my job.

Dr. Collins continued. "If something like this happens again, I will be forced to terminate your employment."

I sat for a moment, stunned. Was she threatening my job?

"Look," Dr. Collins said, softening as she glanced at her clasped hands on her desk. "You're a talented educator and a great nurse. It's hard enough to find someone qualified for your position, and I don't want to have to replace you. But you need to learn your place."

Dr. Collins might as well have sat me in the corner of the attendance office on a stool labeled "naughty chair." I had never felt so belittled in my life. Even if she objected to what I had done, there was no need to for her to speak to me that way, and it was totally uncalled for for her to bring up our marriage. I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

I forced myself to speak, but my words were stiff and tight.

"It won't happen again."

Dr. Collins gave me a sturdy nod. "Good." Suddenly her demeanor changed and she gave me a phony smile. "See you at the PTA meeting tonight."

I'd forgotten about the PTA meeting. I was dreading it, but I had no choice but to go. It was a job requirement.

When I got back to my office, I texted you, reminding you I wouldn't be home until seven. You weren't happy about it, but I was relieved I wouldn't have to spend so much time at home with you.

The meeting was boring and too long. It was hard to sit amidst people who cared about such petty things as changes to the school dress code when there were bigger problems to talk about. One mom with a piercing voice and sharp, beady eyes dragged every issue out so long that even Dr. Collin's practiced smile grew strained as she tried to move the meeting forward.

The sad thing is that I used to be one of those parents who cared about the little things. You and I used to go to all the PTA meetings at Caleb's school before we transferred him and you took a new job. We would have talked about each issue on the way home and continued as we got ready for bed. But now I'm struggling to get through every day and I don't care about the dress code or anything else.

In order to get through the meeting, I started listening to the hushed conversation happening behind me. Two moms I couldn't see were whispering and giggling. When I tuned my ear to their conversation and blocked out Dr. Collin's voice, I heard them rating the dads in the room on a scale of one to ten. It was harmless, I suppose. You and I used to check people out together. But as I listened to them talk, I couldn't help but wonder if that's how it had started for you. Had you started noticing more? Had you started imagining what it would be like to be with someone else? What had given you the final push to do it? Was it her? The circumstances?

Was it me?

My chest tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from crying. I know that most of the parents at the school are about ten years older than me, but sitting in the stiff metal chair, I felt older than I had ever felt in my life.

Finally I heard the telltale squeaks and slams of the folding chairs around the room, signalling the meeting was over. Even though I was supposed to stay until all the parents left, I folded my chair, added it to the stack, and rushed out the door.

As I was backing out of the parking lot, something made a loud noise and my body jolted forward. It sounded like someone had fired a gun. Stunned, I looked around.

Fuck.

I'd crashed into a pole.

Was I so disoriented that I'd forgotten about the pole that had always been in that exact location in the parking lot I parked in every day? I wanted to scream. I got out of the car and walked around the back, dreading what I'd find. Sure enough, there was an impressive dent in the bumper and the trunk had crinkled noticeably.

Fuck.

That was going to cost a lot of money to fix and make our insurance go up. One more thing to add to the list of things I'd lost control of.

I got back in the car and took deep, shaky breaths. It's just a car, Brittany. It's a thing. It can be fixed.

I drove home, hoping for once I'd be greeted by a soothing sound or smell of, best of all, quiet. I trudged up to the door, cringing when I heard Ruby's muffled yelling. I opened the door, hoping to find something manageable.

But what I found instead was utter chaos. Ruby was screaming on the floor in the middle of the living room, wailing, "Simonnnnn! Come backkkkk!"

The smell of smoke hit me square in the face as you shouted to Ruby, "He's hiding, Roo! I'll help you find him in a minute, but for Christ's sake, stop screaming! You're too old to be acting like this!"

Caleb was cowering in the corner, hunched over a piece of paper, gripping his pencil as he drew what was undoubtedly a map.

Ruby kept screaming, "Simon's goooooone! He ran awayyyy!"

You whined back at her, "He's hiding! Calm! Down!"

I considered turning around and pretending I'd never walked in the door. But I was trying to be a better mom. I set down my purse and walked over to Caleb, guided him up by the elbow, and took him upstairs. I put him at his little desk and kissed his forehead. "It's okay to take quiet time when it's too loud down there," I whispered. Caleb nodded, already reimmersed in his map.

I peeked under Caleb's bed for Simon, finding nothing but a few pairs of dirty socks and a library book we thought we'd lost. Willing myself not to lose it, I checked under Ruby's bed, our bed, and finally, to my utter relief, found Simon under the guest bed. I carried him down the stairs, ignoring his protests, and set him down on the floor in front of Ruby, who was still screaming. Ruby quieted like a kettle taken off the stove and her hands darted forward, clutching him to her chest.

Simon flailed in Ruby's arms, not wanting to be captured in her stronghold of adoration. I bent down and gave Ruby a kiss on the forehead. "Be gentle, Roo," I warned. "Simon will hide again if you're too rough."

Ruby loosened her grasp on Simon and scratched behind his ears. Simon stopped scrambling and settled into Ruby's lap.

"Thank god you're home," you said, peering into the living room. "I'm kind of losing my sh- losing my mind here. Set the table?"

Pursing my lips and dreading being near you in the smoky kitchen, I walked towards you. As I placed the plates and silverware on the table, I decided the silence between us was worse than the elephant in the room. Even if there's a third party, we're still married. We're supposed to be civil to each other. That, and I had to tell you about the damage to the car before you saw it in the morning.

The most painful thing about standing in the kitchen with you was that I wanted, if only for a moment, to talk to the loyal, supportive wife I'd had a year ago. I wanted your softness and your sympathy. After a day like the one I'd just had, I needed support. You've always been my foundation. My last shred of hope pushed me to speak.

"I had a really hard day," I began, letting my words droop as I set the table.

"Yeah?" you asked, frantically stirring something on the stove.

"Yeah. I got an earful from the principal, my students were out of control, and as I was leaving the PTA meeting, I-"

"You know what, Britt?" you snapped, interrupting me. "I'm sorry you had a 'bad day,' but you have no fucking idea," you said. "I had a meeting with the corporate rep from Abercrombie this morning and they decided to focus all their corporate social responsibility on animal shelters, which means this afternoon I had to tell an entire department that kittens and puppies have been deemed more important than our abused clients, and that one of them doesn't have a job anymore. Oh, and Mallory put in her two weeks' notice."

I stared at you, a fist full of silverware clenched in my hand. I was flabbergasted by how quickly you'd cut me down, insisting your life is harder. You're not the one living in a house of lies and deceit. You're not the one who is doing everything she can to keep our family together.

I tossed the silverware on the table with a clatter and lifted my hands up in angry surrender.

"I'm done letting you treat me like this."

Without waiting for your response, I stormed through the living room, grabbing my coat and purse. I yanked the door open and stepped out into the cold, slamming the door firmly behind me.