Fight exerpt

I glanced at my phone. Still no missed calls. What the hell? Surely they weren’t so damn busy in Stigler, Oklahoma that Doc couldn’t pick up his phone to call me or at least text a friendly, “Hello.” I tried calling again. Three rings and the “Hi, this is-“ voicemail message cued making me slide my phone shut and throw it across the room.


“’Chelle?”

“WHAT?”

“Everything ok?”

Hell no. My goddamn husband was ignoring me. “He’s just really, really busy. So busy infact that calling his wife EVER is too damn difficult.”

“Well, I’m sure he really is pretty busy-“

“Oh, I know he is. I just find it hard to believe he can’t find an excuse to send me a hello.” I stared at the phone on the floor. Evelyn gurgled saliva bubbles with her fingers shoved in her mouth and stared where it had thudded. “I’m done trying to get a hold of him. If he’s too damn busy for me I can sure as hell be too damn busy for him.”

“Do you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“No, but I’m tired of feeling like a freaking teenage girl. I shouldn’t have to beg for him to call me.” I picked my phone up and shoved it in the bottom of my purse. Done trying.



That night I ignored a phone call that came in at 10:30 and woke me up. In the morning, I didn’t send a hello or try to call. I kept my phone on silent and went to work. No sending texts, no phone calls. Around 2 PM, I received this text:

“Hey honey, I miss you.”

I bet he did. I bet he missed me trailing after him like an attention hungry dog. God forbid my every moment didn’t hang on his stupid ass schedule. Like hell I was going to respond. How about you trail after me? And then at 4 PM:

“I love you, honey. I miss both of you. How was your day?”

Nope. Not responding. He could see how it felt to try to reach out and get nothing back. He could see what it felt like to really need support during your day and get nothing but a voice message or disappointing inbox checks. A phone call at 6, ignored.



Then at 7:30, I answered:

Doc: Hey! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.

ME: I’ve been busy.

Doc: Was everything okay at school today?

Me: Fine, but I really don’t have time to talk right now, I’m helping my mom with the dishes.

Doc: Okay, well, will you call me later.

Me: Yeah, if I have time I guess.

Doc: Okay. I love you.

Me: Love you, bye.



I hung up and looked at my mom, who was cleaning up the kitchen with a tsking look of disapproval on her brow.

“Funny,” I said, “how when I ignore him he starts lavishing on the ‘I love yous’ and trying to actually talk to me every now and then.”

She just shook her head. Yeah, I was being petty, but dammit he’d left me alone with our daughter. I was not interested in the single parent game. I got a max of four hours of sleep a night and had no help. He was off in quiet middle of nowhere sleeping a good eight hours and eating gourmet homemaker wife cooking while I worked my ass off all day and then took care of my daughter and tutored my sisters until it was time for dinner and then the drive home and bed. Then I was up all night taking care of my baby. Son of a bitch.

As I loaded Evelyn into her car seat to head home I threw my phone in the front seat. I turned the IPOD to play Nickel Creek and started the half hour drive back to my house. On impulse I switched the song to This Side.

“One day you’ll see her and you’ll know what I mean,

Take her or leave her she will still be the same…”

That song used to be my anthem. I claimed in high school that it had been written about me. I was that girl who didn’t need you, but you wanted anyway. I was that capable, amazing, independent, free-spirited-

Well shit I wasn’t acting like any of those things. I was being a whiney, childish brat. I glanced at the phone in the passenger seat. Damn it all to hell. With a reluctant sigh I picked it up and dialed Doc’s number.

Doc: Hey!

Me: Hey.

Doc: Are you busy now?

Me: No, I’m just driving home. Evelyn is sleeping in the car seat.

Doc: It sounds like your day was pretty busy. I’m sorry honey, I wish I could be there to help.

Despite myself I felt the familiar stinging commonly associated with tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Me: I wish you were here too. It’s hard being alone here. I feel like a single parent and I hate it.

Doc: I hate it too. But I’ll be home in two days, hon. We can go do something fun this weekend if you want! Let’s go to the market on Saturday!”

Me: Hon, I feel really lonely when you don’t call me all day or even at all that day.

Doc: I’m sorry. We were in three different clinics today and I’m with the doctor all the time. Even when I can call you I have no privacy. I’m in my room at their house now, but it’s just…

Me: Yeah, I understand. I love you.

Doc: I love you.

Me: I’ll talk to you later?

Doc: Okay. Bye, honey. Sleep well.

Me: I’ll try.



I spent the rest of the drive thinking about what kind of mother I wanted to be. I didn’t want to yell. I didn’t want to be passive-aggressive. I wanted to be happy and full of life. I wanted to live the life I wanted for my daughter.

I walked into the house, laid Evelyn down, and picked up a dry erase marker. The bathroom mirror soon read “Stop Bitching. It’s not sexy.” Stepping back, I smiled at the blue ink. Before meeting Doc, I was entirely self-sufficient. This would be much better if I would go back to depending on myself and stop expecting my white knight to bail me out.

The next morning, I woke up before Evelyn. I made the bed, showered, and gathered my books for the day. By the time my mom arrived to pick Evelyn up, she was ready and I was walking out the door smiling. No more grumpy bitch. Hello modern woman!

Doc wasn’t able to call much the rest of the week, or the next week. His supervising physician was tagging him onto other doctors who worked night clinics so he had almost no spare time. I didn’t try to bait him or ignore him anymore, I just accepted the happy times I did get to talk to him.

By the end of the month, I was used to Doc never calling. I was completely capable of taking care of Evelyn by myself and still being ready to go at work. I was even making progress on the papers I had to write for my seminar class. I would come home from work, start dinner, wash some laundry, nurse Evelyn, strap her in the tummy carrier, clean the house, eat, feed Evelyn again, put her to bed, do the dishes, and go to bed myself without crying about how hard it was. I had learned how to get along without Doc again. Now, with Doc back at home every day, that was precisely the problem. I didn’t need him.