Well, as much as anybody who had just had their life packed into boxes by their husband and been evicted from their own bedroom could. I knew Joel was going through something and had been for quite some time, but I didn’t care anymore. I know that’s a horrible thing to say about your husband, but in all honesty that was the only emotion I could muster towards him. For months I had played the supportive wife. I hadn’t complained when he fell into bed, drunk beyond words and reeking of cigarette smoke in the early hours of the morning. I’d stopped asking if he would be home in time for dinner. I’d even passed the point of trying to make him feel guilty about missing our lives. To me, it seemed that Joel had long ago forgotten those words we’d exchanged when we’d made our wedding vows. I’d stood by him when no one else had. But enough was enough. My girls needed me and they deserved a better life than this one. It’s funny, I never would have thought of packing my things and moving out.
