NONFICTION | MY STORY

And Just Like That, The State of Their Marriage Became as Clear as a Block of Ice

With one immobilizing action, she knew three things were true

The storage locker irritated her.

Two years ago her husband had taken over the $75 per month payments for the unit after the death of his mom. She knew her husband still grieved her death and that the locker held the last remaining physical parts of her life, but she’d grown weary of seeing that money disappear each month.

She also knew of his mother’s inability to let go of things — even things beyond their expiration date or usefulness, things broken and worn out. She suspected the locker contained many such things.

So when the kids set off for a week of summer camp, she suggested they take the 500-mile drive to visit the locker and sort through its contents.

With a sullen face, he reluctantly agreed.

They made a wordless trek across the scenic free state and checked into a hotel to learn that the only room left was the honeymoon suite.

The irony of this hit her hard.

For most of their union, she’d longed to feel loved by the man she married. She craved to be touched. She ached for intimacy. But sex — or any other type of affection — was a rarity. She reasoned that a honeymoon-style encounter would not be happening on this trip.

To add to this, for about a year now, she’d been having an affair. She harbored a heavy amount of guilt for it but ending the relationship with her lover proved tough. It gave her the intimacy she desired.

Yet even throughout this act of betrayal, she held onto a hope that she and her husband could kindle a reconnection. She imagined a crack of light still trickled through the door to her heart.

Tired from their journey and knowing what lay ahead, they settled into opposite sides of the king-size bed.

They arrived at the locker with the early morning sun blasting its warmth on their backs. He turned the key in the rusty lock and it groaned open. The locker door rattled and complained as he pushed it up. A strong scent of dusty furniture and musty cardboard greeted them.

As she gazed at the contents inside, she sighed. Mountains of haphazardly stacked unmarked boxes. Pieces of furniture in need of repair. His mother had squirreled away more than she’d imagined.

And so they began the task of sifting through the contents to separate the treasures from the trash.

As they worked through the piles he paused to share various memorabilia with her. She glanced and nodded, but gave little attention to each item. She could tell her behavior irritated him, so she put on the cloak of patience. She pasted on a smile and half-heartily listened to his stories.

After three full days of sorting, they neared the end of the task. At the hotel that evening, weariness from the long days of this burdensome project overtook her. She slid between the sheets anxious for sleep to wash away the poisonous and troublesome energy building between them.

As she dozed off he startled her by reaching over and flipping her on her back. Not a word left his lips as he lifted her nightgown.

He moved on top of her without so much as a kiss. Although she longed for intimacy, this wasn’t what she had in mind. This was different. His movements lacked tenderness. They were neither violent nor soft but somewhere in between. Any effort for mutual pleasure remained absent.

She lay still and separated herself from what was happening. In a flash, she understood. Through this act, he communicated his frustration, anger, hurt, and grief.

Her mind and heart objected but her vocal cords constricted and the words please stop remained stuck in her throat.

And as he moved inside her she realized that her husband’s inability to express love in the way she needed irritated her just as much as that storage locker. Although she claimed the hope of cobbling together a reconnection, her behavior betrayed this.

He must have read her with acute precision and instead of calling her out verbally on what he sensed to be true, he used this method to express how she made him feel. In sorting through all those boxes together and through this act of immobilizing her, the state of their marriage became as clear as a block of ice.

She now knew three things to be true.

She’d been mistaken. The door to her heart closed years ago. In fact, it may never have fully opened to accepting him.

She had no intention of saving their marriage.

And like his mother and her locker full of stuff, she’d held onto this broken relationship far past its expiration date.

kasey sparks, © 2023

This story is part of a series of stories crafted as third-person narratives about events leading up to and after my now-ended marriage. Telling my story this way has allowed me to look at myself and the part I played through a different and more honest lens. As they progress, they’ll reveal how much my mindset has shifted and evolved over the last 4 years. The entire series can be found here:

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Thank you for reading. To quote Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home.” If you’d like to join me on the journey, click here.