A World Cup Without You

The next afternoon, I went to the sports bar Reid always went to. I left a poster there six months ago, and it was stored behind the counter. It was something I had planned to surprise him with on game night.

The bar was closed during the day, but I knew the back door was never locked. I pushed it open and made my way down the hallway. Just as I reached the private room I knew so well, the sound of laughter and voices from inside stopped me in my tracks.

"Reid, that post you put up last night was bold as hell." It was one of his friends, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Seriously. Wearing a Portugal jersey is one thing, but that caption? Did your wife not lose it when she saw that?"

"The video of your proposal is still pinned in the group chat, man. Everyone in this city knows how obsessed you were with Argentina."

The room went quiet for a moment, then came the click of a lighter.

"So what?" Reid's voice was lazy, completely indifferent. "The mood was right that night. I just got caught up in it. Looking back, pinning my emotions to someone else's win or loss is pretty childish."

My fingers curled around the doorframe until my knuckles turned white. The mood was right? He just got caught up in it? It was childish?

The proposal I had treasured for four years, the single brightest moment in my life, had been reduced to those words that came out of his mouth. I had already known the truth, but hearing it spoken aloud in his own voice still hurt.

"Come on, Reid. Brynn stood in line outside a store all night in the dead of winter just to get you that jersey." One of his friends sounded like he had heard enough.

"So she stood in line. So what?" Reid let out a dismissive laugh.

"A wife is someone you keep at home, someone steady and low-maintenance. But for something like watching a game, the real thrill is being there with someone who actually gets it. Brynn is so dull. She can't even tell what offside means. Watching a match with her is torture."

"Reid, don't say that about her." A sweet, delicate voice cut in. It was Nola. "She's definitely going to be upset when she sees that post. Maybe you should just delete it so you two don't end up fighting when you get home. I'd feel terrible if that happened."

"Delete it?" Reid's voice dropped immediately, thick with open protectiveness. "What, I can't even like whoever I want now? Don't worry about it. She won't make a scene. She cares way too much about how things look. She'll just swallow it and keep it to herself."

He paused. "Besides, all I did was switch teams. What's she going to do, divorce me?"

The room erupted into laughter.

"Reid's got her wrapped around his finger!"

"That's Brynn for you. Easy to manage. Buy her a bag and it's all good."

"Come on, let's raise a glass to Nola. Our fan club finally has a girl who actually knows the game!"

The clink of glasses mixed with Nola's shy, girlish laughter, and every sound cut straight through the door and into me.

I stood outside with my chest feeling tight, a dull ache spreading through my entire body. It turned out this was what my patience and tolerance looked like to him.

He found me convenient and easy to handle, believing I would swallow every grievance I had in silence to keep from being a distraction. These traits of mine had become something he could show off to other people.

I did not push the door open. I did not storm in to confront him. I just looked down at the cardboard box I had just picked up from the bar counter, the one that held the poster he had been searching for and could never find.

I walked to the end of the hallway and let go. The box landed in the trash bin with a dull thud.

All those nights I had stayed up until my eyes were raw were for nothing.

I turned around and walked out of the bar without looking back. The sunlight outside was blinding, and I drew in a long breath of cold air.

I should have understood a long time ago, back when he gave Nola the passenger seat, when he forgot my birthday completely but remembered that she was allergic to peanuts, when he rushed out the door in the middle of the night because she called…

This marriage had been falling apart for four years. I just had not been willing to admit it, and I kept searching for something sweet in a pile of broken glass. Now, I did not have to search anymore.