Easy to Give Up

“So, what do you guys want to do during your week off from school?” I ask my six-year-old twins, Jet and Jamie, as they scramble into the van. Their excitement is palpable, thrilled at the prospect of spending the upcoming week with me, and hopefully their dad.

The twins got out of school early today because of the upcoming holiday. Spring break is a major event in any child’s life, so I left my volunteer job at the seniors’ center early so that I can spend every possible moment with them.

“Can we go to the zoo? They have monkeys!” Jet exclaims as we pull out of the school parking lot.

“I want to visit Nana and Papa!” Jamie counters.

These two are the light of my life. Regardless of what’s going on in my world, they always manage to bring me joy. I listen to them sing a school song as we drive home.

Pulling into our driveway, I notice Deacon’s car. It’s unusual for him to be home this early—it’s only one o’clock. I hope he’s taken some time off to surprise us. I’ve been asking him to spend more time with us, so seeing his car excites me just as much as the kids.

Before I can stop them, both kids unbuckle and sprint toward the house. They’re inside before I can catch up.

Jamie’s scream pierces the air, and a mother’s fear grips me. My child is scared, and I need to reach her. I rush through the doorway to find my kids standing with their backs to the living room, eyes shut tight.

I follow their gaze and my heart drops. My husband stands there, a pillow his only shield, while a woman scrambles to cover herself with discarded clothes. I instinctively pull my kids close, their faces buried in my legs.

“Calliope, why are you home so early?” Deacon stammers.

His shock is understandable. His wife and kids just walked in on him having sex with another woman in our living room. Who wouldn’t be shocked? But his shock can’t compare to mine. My world just shattered.

My thoughts race to my children. I back out the front door, their heads still buried in my legs. I close the door behind us and instruct, “Run back to the van. We’re going to get some ice cream and talk about what we just saw.”

They move quickly. People often underestimate how perceptive young children can be. But my kids notice everything. It’s sometimes frightening how much they pick up on.

After a quick drive-thru stop, we’re sitting on a blanket in the park. I never imagined I’d be in this situation. How do I even begin to explain? I can’t just blurt out, “Kids, your dad is a piece of shit who cheated on Mommy.”

“What was Daddy doing with that lady?” Jet asks. I guess it’s time. I look at their innocent faces and wonder if this will scar them for life.

“Were they having sex?” Jamie asks.

“Where did you hear that word?” I ask, taken aback.

“Frankie from school told us. He walked in on his parents doing it. He said it’s something mommies and daddies do,” Jamie explains.

I close my eyes, trying to make sense of this mess. Deacon has been working a lot, but that was normal. We only see him briefly during the week and a few hours on the weekend. But when he is around, everything is great. We still make love several times a week, and he seems happy with me.

“I want you guys to know that Daddy and I love you very much. Never doubt that. But yes, Daddy was doing something with that lady that only mommies and daddies should do together. I don’t want you two to dwell on what you saw, okay? Just remember how much we both love you.”

I want to tell them their dad is a monster who doesn’t deserve to live. But how would that make me any better than him?

The only reason I don’t break down—scream, cry, lash out—is because my kids are there. They are my priority, and I need to be strong for them. I have to keep it together in front of them, and only when they’re not around can I let my guard down.

“Does this mean we should be mad at Daddy? ’Cause I’m really mad at Daddy,” Jet says, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“Jet, sweetheart, I can’t dictate your feelings. I don’t want to make you feel like you can’t be upset. But it’s important for you to understand that this isn’t your fault or your sister’s. Your dad loves you both, and this situation has nothing to do with you two.

“Promise me you won’t hate your dad. Let him explain before you decide to be angry with him. Remember our talks about people making mistakes and owning up to them? You’re in charge of how you react to them.”

How am I supposed to navigate this mess? I’ve always encouraged my kids to give people a chance to rectify their mistakes. But there is no way I am going to let Deacon attempt to mend this. I am done, and that is nonnegotiable. Now, I just have to figure out how to weather this storm.

“Let’s go visit Granny Ruth,” I suggest, and their faces light up instantly. I quickly shoot off a text to my mom, letting her know we are going to see them and we’ll be there for at least a few days.

Ruth is an elderly woman I assisted during her recovery from surgery. We quickly became friends, and I know she is someone I can trust with my kids and to help me sort this out.

“What brings you two here?” Ruth inquires as the kids envelop her in a hug.

“Mommy wanted to visit you. Can we go play on the swings?” Jamie asks.

“Absolutely.”

The kids dash out the back door to the yard while Ruth and I settle in her sunroom. We sit in silence for a few moments before she breaks it.

“Something’s bothering you, Calliope. Talk to me, dear.”

“We caught Deacon in the act with another woman in our living room. My babies saw everything,” I confess, tears streaming down my face. “Ruth, I had to explain to my kids what they witnessed. Jet is furious and Jamie is hiding her feelings, I think.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I never imagined this would happen to you two. He always seemed so smitten with you,” she says, holding my hand. “What’s your plan? You’re always welcome to stay here if you want to leave.”

Her offer makes me pause. I know I can’t stay in that house any longer. The image of Deacon and that woman is seared into my mind. How could I ever feel at ease knowing that my husband, who had vowed to be mine forever, has thrown it all away for another woman?

“I’m going to go to my parents’ house. The kids are on spring break, and I need time to figure things out,” I reply.

“Did he say anything?”

“He mentioned we were home early. I turned off my phone, so he might have tried to call, but I can’t deal with him right now. My kids are my main concern. Could you watch them while I go get some of our stuff?”

I leave the kids with Ruth and head back to what was once my own little oasis of happiness. Now, looking at the door, it feels like the pits of hell.

He doesn’t deserve a chance to explain. I should be the one in control after what he did. Does he even care about us?

If he did, why would he hurt us like this?

I take a deep breath and grip the doorknob. Regardless of what awaits me on the other side of this door, one thing is certain.

Deacon Dodson has lost my love, and he’s about to find that out.

“Calliope.” Deacon greets me as I swing the door open.

I raise my hand, signaling him to hold his tongue.

“Just don’t,” I cut him off before he can utter another word. “I don’t want to hear your justifications or excuses. I’m heading upstairs to pack for me and the kids. We’re spending spring break at my parents’. While I’m there, I’ll find myself a divorce lawyer. I’ll return the following Monday to collect our belongings and the kids’ school transfer papers.

“You won’t be here. It’s the least you can do. Given your constant absence, I suggest you don’t contest custody. You can visit the kids, but you won’t share or have full custody. If you choose to fight me on this, be ready for a battle. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me while I’m here, and don’t obstruct my path,” I declare.

Deacon steps aside. His face is ashen, and he looks like he’s going to be sick.

I rush upstairs and get to work. I haul out three large suitcases and stuff them with as many clothes as I can. I gather all our irreplaceable essentials and a few of the kids’ favorite things.

I pause in our bedroom, haunted by memories of making love with that jerk in this very room. All the shared smiles and kisses that I thought held meaning.

Now, when I look at our bed, all I see is heartache. How many times did he bring her here? Did they mock me while they were having sex in our marital bed?

Would it hurt more if I knew they did? I stand there, staring at the bed, feeling my heart splintering. The cracks are spreading, weaving a web of destruction that will inevitably lead to my heart shattering.

How could he do this to me? Wasn’t I enough for him? I hear a noise at the door and know he’s there.

“I asked you not to speak to me,” I manage to say, keeping my voice steady.

“We need to talk. I’ve been calling, but you’ve ignored all my calls,” he pleads.

I turn to face him. “Answering wouldn’t have changed anything. The outcome remains the same. We’re done,” I tell him.

He shakes his head, mumbling in denial. “No. No, baby, you can’t leave me. I made a mistake, but…”

“Mistake? You call sleeping with another woman a mistake? Our children saw you!” I yell. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to answer the questions of two six-year-olds who just saw their father fucking another woman in their living room? Their home! A place that should be safe now holds the memory of their father doing things only mommies and daddies should do together with some woman!”

“I’m sorry, Cal. I’m so fucking sorry!” he cries, tears streaming down his face.

“Your apologies mean nothing now, Deacon. You can shove your sorries up your ass, along with that woman,” I retort. He stands there looking lost, like someone who’s been set adrift with no lifeline out there to help them.

“I’m going to leave now and build a life for my children that doesn’t include free sex shows starring their father. You are not the father they need, not now, not ever!”