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There I was. Just sitting in the driveway like an idiot — my forehead resting against the steering wheel, my heart pounding in my ears, blinking from the wave of tears that threatened to come.
“Dumbass.” “Fat ass.” “Stupid whore.”
Those were some of the
last words he said before I left my house on Winston Street. I should have been used to them since I heard them so often, but they still hurt. Yep, those words echoed in my brain before I climbed into my car that Saturday afternoon. I had originally planned to go grocery shopping, but Brian had just thrown one of his famous fits and this left me in no mental condition to go or do anything.
I should have known that my day, which had started off better than usual, would be going south in a hurry. Brian had settled down in front of the television, prepared to watch several hours of his favorite TV shows that he had Tivo’d during the week. He told me that his friends would be coming over around 5:00 to watch baseball, football or some other sports game, and demanded that I fetch him a beer and some chips. The chips were no problem, but when I went to the fridge, I suddenly felt all tight inside. I would have to tell him that we were out of beer. I stood staring at that empty shelf, and prayed that he would stay in a decent mood.
Once I told Brian that there wasn’t any beer, he yelled, “Are you dumb or just plain stupid?” from his place on the sofa. This kind of talk was nothing new—I was either dumb, stupid, ignorant, or a combination of the three. Today was different though, with my Pop’s recent passing and my eldest stepdaughter Samantha’s newest goal in life being to drive me insane, my emotions were on edge and Brian’s words bothered me more than usual.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I watched his broad shoulders bunch under his Steelers football jersey. His jean-encased, thick thigh bounced as he tapped his foot, with what I once thought was slightly contained energy, but now knew was barely controlled anger.
I tried to stay calm, fighting back unexpected tears. Come on Liz, I thought, get a grip. He’s said a lot worse to you every day for the past few years, and you know better than to go whining about it like a baby.
Taking a deep breath, I quietly replied, “Brian, I just bought a twenty-four pack less than a week ago. I didn’t realize that you’d gone through it already. I’ll go right out and get some.”
