A Martyr No More

It’s little things, the tone of his voice, the fact that he won’t look at me. He’s coolly distant. We went to a friend’s house to play games. He hung back a step at the door, so that he wasn’t standing beside me. If he was in a good mood, he would have been holding my hand. When we got inside, they were already playing a game, so he dealt himself in, but not me.

Our friend, said to him, “What about your wife? Aren’t you going to deal her in?” My ex ignored him, so my friend dealt me in. There weren’t enough seats at the table, so they brought out a folding chair. My ex took the comfortable seat so I took the folding chair. There was no gracious back and forth of, “I’ll take that one, no I will.” It would have made more sense for him to take the folding chair because it was lower and he’s taller, so he would have fit better at the table. But I was glad to at least not be sitting beside him. I could feel his contempt for me radiating across the table. I didn’t want to be any closer to that.