The Beginning of Courage

This house had always held so many great memories. Memories of laughter, tears, surprises, and anything in between. She recalled these memories as she looked around. She no longer thought of this as her home, but rather a structure that stood only for the purpose of storing belongings. As she looked over every detail of the room: the beige walls, the neutral colors of the modern furniture, the abstract paintings on the wall; had the living room always looked so colorless? At this point she wasn’t sure if the bland decorations surrounding her had always been this, well, bland. Maybe she imagined more color being present when she was happier.

He was in the shower. As usual, he had thrown his keys and phone on the kitchen island after walking in and headed straight down the hall to cleanse himself of the day. He works a dirty and demanding job, and she knew that. However, this provided her with opportunity, as it usually does. She hated that she always noticed this opportunity when it presented itself but always took it nonetheless. She was never surprised at what she found.

She almost couldn’t feel her feet as they carried her over to the kitchen. They moved with haste, knowing she was limited on time. Her vision narrowed in on the phone. She drew closer and her hands shook. She absolutely hated this. She hated that she knew what she would find but could never stop herself from looking. She always compared it to witnessing a car crash, seeing a vehicle barrel down a road only to collide with another, seeing the damage, feeling the pain and disbelief of what your eyes had just seen. She unlocked his phone.

Careful as to not leave any sign that she had entered his world, she flipped from app to app. Text messages, Facebook messages, Snapchat, Instagram… The list felt endless as she read his private conversations. Conversations never meant for her to see and conversations he would never dream of sharing with her. There were always the familiar names that she knew to be warry of, but usually she would find little replies to new names. Responses that seemed innocent enough at first, but always lead to more. Harmless compliments turned to flirtatious musings.

The familiar names hurt the most. The names she was told not to worry about, the names that she had been told were left in the past. The seemingly random replies to posts by attractive women were painful, but rekindled flames burned the most. Again, as usual, she felt her heart beat harder as she read through the messages that he would never have the restraint to resist sending. Her hands shook relentlessly. Her heart broke yet again.

Struggling to compose herself, she quickly restored his phone to its previous state, making sure to erase her presence. The shower had stopped. She quickly returned to the living room and sat on the couch and tried to slow her heart rate. What was she to do? She’s never found evidence of anything physical, besides small gestures she’d noted whenever they would go out to a bar or out with friends but she had always known he was flirtatious and he always tried his best to clear her concerns.

Recalling the past few years, their relationship was never exceptionally rocky. As with any marriage, there were arguments and there were apologies. She really did feel loved overall, but the seed of doubt in the back of her mind rarely wavered. Even when its glow was at its dullest, it was always there: Am I good enough? Will there come a time when he decides he wants more; to be a bachelor again? He was always the best when it came to seducing women. She remembered a time before they were dating. Seeing the women he preferred, the women he chased, how easily he could have any woman he wanted.

There was a decision to be made: Should she stay and continue to work and pray that everything improves or does she leave?