DOC TOLD me to leave my husband.
If it were that easy, I would have packed up and left a long time ago. I would have torn all his clothes to shreds before I did. Set fire to his prized possessions—his baseball cards, his boxing gloves, his signed football from a legend in the field.
But I haven't.
Couldn't.
Didn't.
Because every time I think about leaving, I remember who Jerrison is. Beneath the mistakes he's made beats the heart of the man I married. The man who showered me with love. The man who was there for me when my mother died. The man who took my side when I fell out with my father. The man who made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world.
I turn the matter around and around in my head. Look at it from all sides. Fold it into a thousands shapes, placing them into my pocket so I can test how it'll feel. How the sharp edges will rub against me. How the absence of it will torture me.
Leave.
Walk away.
