My Wedding Ring Paid for His Funeral

The silence of the massive house felt heavy, completely suffocating.

I dragged my leather suitcase from the top shelf of the walk-in closet and threw it onto the mattress. The zippers rasped loudly in the quiet master bedroom. I didn't bother sorting anything or folding neatly.

I yanked silk blouses from their hangers and dropped them directly into the open bag. Next came the slacks, the tailored blazers, the uniform I wore to build the multi-million dollar empire Julian was currently stealing.

I moved fast. I didn't want to be here when he finally arrived. I didn't want to smell his cologne or hear his endless, pathetic excuses.

"What are you doing?"

I kept my back to the door, my hands gripping a stack of wool sweaters.

"Packing," I answered flatly.

Footsteps slapped aggressively against the expensive hardwood floor. Leo marched into the room. He hugged a massive, battery-powered robot to his chest. Red and blue lights flashed across the cheap plastic armor, casting harsh colored shadows against the silk wallpaper.

"Are you going on a trip?" he demanded, his five-year-old voice sharp and accusatory.

"I'm leaving."

He stopped at the edge of the Persian rug. "When are you coming back?"

"I'm not."

Leo stared at me. He looked at the half-empty closet, then down at my open luggage. He stepped forward and kicked the side of my bag with his sneaker.

"Good!" he yelled.

I turned around, a sweater still clutched in my hands. "Don't kick my things, Leo."

"I can do whatever I want!" He kicked the leather again, significantly harder this time. The suitcase tipped backward. My clothes spilled out, tumbling into a messy pile on the floor. "Get out!"

"Pick those up," I instructed, fighting the tremor in my voice.

"No!"

"Leo. Pick up the clothes."

"You can't tell me what to do anymore!" He squeezed the flashing robot tighter. "You're an outsider! Get out of my house!"

My hands froze mid-air.

The air trapped itself in my windpipe. I couldn't pull a single breath into my lungs.

I stared at his flushed, angry face. This was the child I had rocked to sleep every night for three years. The toddler I had patiently potty-trained while Julian was away on "extended business trips." The boy I had fed spoonfuls of mashed peas when he refused to eat for anyone else.

"An outsider," I whispered, the word slicing my heart open.

"Yes!" Leo stomped his foot, his sneakers slamming against the floorboards. "This is my dad's house! You don't belong here!"

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody!"

"A five-year-old doesn't use the word 'outsider' on his own. Who said it?"

"I said it!" He shoved the overturned suitcase with both hands. "You just yell and make me do chores. You're mean."

I looked at the flashing toy in his arms. "Where did you get that?"

"Clara gave it to me." He lifted the robot higher, using it exactly like a shield. "She bought it today. She says I deserve fun things."

"She bought you a toy to bribe you."

"She's nice! She lets me eat ice cream for dinner."

My jaw locked shut. The muscles in my face pulled so tight they physically ached. I gripped the edge of the wooden dresser. I dug my fingers into the mahogany finish until my knuckles turned stark white.

My eyes burned violently. The dry, scratching pain behind my eyelids begged for tears, but I rigidly refused to let them fall. Not for Julian. And not for a child who was happily parroting his father's cruelty.

"I make you eat vegetables so you don't get sick," I told him, my voice completely hollow.

"I don't care!"

"Who stayed awake with you for two nights when you had the flu last month?"

"Dad paid for the medicine!"

"Your dad was in Chicago. I held the bucket while you threw up."

"You're a liar!" Leo screamed, his face contorting into a vicious sneer that mirrored Julian perfectly. "Clara is going to be my new mom! She promised!"

"Did she?"

"Yes! And she's going to be way better than you!"

"I fed you formula at two in the morning," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh, broken whisper. "I taught you how to walk in the backyard. I spent hours reading you stories so you wouldn't have nightmares. Not Clara. Me."

"I don't remember that!" He threw his free hand in the air, entirely dismissive.