Chapter 6 - The Confrontation
At 8:00 AM on Saturday morning, I unlocked the front door of our home.
I was accompanied by my mother, who insisted on coming along to ensure I didn't strain my broken arm carrying my bag.
When the door swung open, the stench of stale milk, dirty diapers, and sheer exhaustion hit us immediately. The entryway was cluttered with discarded clothes. The living room rug was littered with burp cloths, toys, half-empty bottles, and crumpled paper towels.
Sitting on the bottom step of the staircase was my husband.
Derek looked like a ghost of the man who had walked out the door twenty-four hours earlier. His hair was matted and greasy. Dark purple bags sagged beneath his bloodshot eyes. His clothes were filthy, and his hands were trembling slightly as he held a cold cup of water.
In the playpen, both Eli and Owen were fast asleep, completely worn out from their night of terror.
Derek looked up when the door opened. When his eyes met mine, there was no anger in them. There was no arrogance. No eye-rolling.
Only complete, total defeat.
"Rachel..." he whispered, his voice dry and raspy.
I stood in the doorway, resting my casted right arm in its black mesh sling. I kept my face neutral.
"Good morning, Derek," I said quietly. "How was your workday?"
Derek swallowed hard. He slowly stood up from the stairs. His knees buckled slightly from fatigue, but he managed to balance himself. He looked at my mother, who gave him a cold, hard stare, and then looked back at me.
"I... I broke," Derek choked out, tears instantly filling his bloodshot eyes. "Rachel, I broke in less than twelve hours."
He took three slow steps toward me, dropping to his knees right on the hardwood floor in front of me. He reached out with trembling hands, gently touching the bottom of my shoe, refusing to look up.
"I am so sorry," he sobbed, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "I am so, so sorry, Rachel. I was an idiot. I was an arrogant, cruel idiot."
I didn't move. I looked down at him kneeling at my feet.
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"Get up, Derek," I said softly.
"No," he wept, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I need you to hear me. I didn't understand. I swear to God, I didn't understand what you were doing every single day. I thought... I thought because I was going to an office and bringing home a paycheck, I was doing the hard part. But what you do... what you've been doing alone for five months... it’s impossible. It’s heroic. And I mocked you for it."
