August 2014
There’s no handbook or guide on how to leave your husband. No tips. No “Five Easy Steps.” I felt like a fish out of water, floundering and lost, but I couldn’t give up. If I left this marriage, I’d be leaving with my eyes wide open, prepared and ready for anything that he might shoot my way.
Wes wouldn’t lie down and play dead.
He’d fight. Hard.
So I started out slowly telling myself three important things.
I have to be careful.
I have to outwit him.
I have to survive.
And now it was time for step one.
Barefoot, I padded toward Wes’s office and stared down at the keypad directly above the doorknob. When we moved in Wes was adamant about installing cameras and a security system. The cameras were angled toward the backyard and the front door, with another leading toward the garage. Every time the front doors opened or closed, a beep would ring out once. When the doors were unlocked, you had twenty seconds to put in the key code or else the alarm would go off.
I punched in the code for the front and back doors: 049319.
It didn’t work.
I tried the same code two more times. After the third failed attempt, the screen went blank. Then four black dots flashed across it and the alarm went off. It was so loud my ears started to ring.
The only time I’d heard the alarm was when the security system was installed. The man who set it up explained that the second it went off, the security company would call either Wes or me. Right now, Wes was in court. His phone was off and all calls were being forwarded to his secretary.
I waited. Twenty seconds went by. Then a minute. Soon I started to doubt whether the company would even call, then finally my phone lit up. I answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
A cheerful woman named Terri told me they had a security alert on 4376 Bellamy Road. Was everything okay?
“Yes, that was me. Everything’s fine, everything’s fine. I’m Mrs. Donovan. My husband is at work and he needed me to pick up some papers in his office. I thought I knew the security code, but clearly I got it wrong. I’m so sorry,” I said in my most sincere voice.
“It’s no problem; this happens all the time.”
Thankfully, the alarm was turned off.
She went through the standard security questions: the name of your first dog. Mother’s maiden name. The color of your first car. I got them all right.
“He keeps meaning to have the passcode changed, but you know men,” I said with a laugh. “My husband would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him.”
The woman chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know it.”
I smiled. The tension in my shoulders faded. I was so close to getting the passcode. I could feel it.
“The passcode I have right now for alarms one and two is: 049319. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And the passcode for alarm three is: 78910424.”
Bingo.
That was the one I needed.
Quickly I scribbled down the numbers. It was my birth date backward. “Now, is that the main security code?”
“Let me double-check.” The line went quiet as Terri hurriedly typed.
My pulse quickened; I knew I was so close to getting what I wanted. It was almost too good to be true.
Terri came back on the line. “Yes. Those are all the codes.”
“Thank you so much, Terri. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me.”
“You’re very welcome. Besides, where would a husband be without his wife?”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I replied, with the biggest smile on my face.
I hung up and stared down at my screen, still smiling.
Where would a husband be without his wife, indeed?
Find out the code to Wes’s home office.
I crossed it off the list and hurried to his office.
Even though we’d lived in our house for more than a year, I’d been in his office only about four times. Other than Wes, the maid was the only person allowed in there and even then he watched everything like a hawk.
I punched in the code the woman gave me. It was my birthday backward, but I still double-checked the numbers before I pressed enter.
The screen went blank. Fear paralyzed me. Did I get it wrong? But then a green light flashed and the lock clicked. The door opened slowly. I held my breath as I stepped through the door, waiting for some alarm or booby trap to go off. I wouldn’t have put it past Wes.
But there was not a sound.
Quickly, I took stock of the room. The dark blue curtains were opened, letting light in. It slanted across his desk and onto the floor. Behind the massive desk, his diplomas hung on the wall. Not a single frame was crooked.
The clock on the fireplace mantel ticked softly. On the large desk, in the left-hand corner of it, were two pictures: one with the two of us on our wedding day and the other of just me. I halted my search to pick up the picture. I remembered that moment. We had been dating for a mere three months and were spending the weekend with my mother for the Fourth of July. It was brutally hot. In the picture, my legs are dipped in the water and my palms lie flat against the towel behind me. Wes came up suddenly, called out my name, and took the photo. Even with my sunglasses you can see how crazy in love I was and how I thought that what we had would last forever.
But look at me now. I’m hiding bruises and sneaking around behind my husband’s back.
I glanced at the built-in mahogany bookshelves across from me. There wasn’t a speck of dust on them. Not that I expected there to be; Wes was meticulous, almost verging on OCD. Everything had a place and when it wasn’t in said place, he got irritated. I added dust to the ever-growing list of things that seemed to set him off.
All the shelves were lined with books. My fingers grazed across their spines. I was doubtful as to whether he had read most of these books. Since I’d known him he’d never been a voracious reader. A part of me wouldn’t have been surprised if they had been there for display. I stared at the titles carefully. The spines that hadn’t been cracked, I pulled out. The pages of each were pristine, never dog-eared. The last book I selected was a book on how to keep a marriage alive. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I made sure everything was back in its place, shut the door behind me and reset the alarm.
Not once did I ever think I’d be going behind my husband’s back. But I truly felt my options were limited. Our relationship was down to the bare bones. There was nothing left and I needed to be ready for whatever came next. I needed to upstage him, to out-think him every time.
I knew it wasn’t much. I knew it was nothing to celebrate, but I could feel it. The tides were changing. Very slowly, I was taking my life back.