Confessions from the Quilting Circle by Maisey Yates (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

man, isn’t he? It’s...maybe he’s going through something and he needs to see a doctor or a counselor.”

“I’m sorry, Avery,” Sandra said, but she looked wooden as Karen. Like there was a shield up. Like they wanted to draw back from her and not lean in. Like she might be contagious. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Counseling?” Avery asked. “Like you think counseling will fix it?”

“I’m not saying that,” Karen said. “I just think maybe there are things you should try, that’s all. I mean, the kids and...and...you know?”

“Is that what you think?” she asked Alyssa. “That we should go to counseling or something?”

“Marriage is hard,” Alyssa said slowly. “I mean, being with someone forever is never going to be easy. You have to make the decision that works best for you. I’ve forgiven Micah a lot. But you know, he is a doctor like David. And it’s a stressful job. Truth be told, I haven’t always been there for him like I should’ve been.”

“Does he hit you?” she asked.

“No. He’s... He’s gotten close to one of the administrative assistants. I mean, it’s over. But... I didn’t talk about it because I feel like people are very judgmental when you don’t leave. But, sometimes the only thing you can do is stand by him. And that’s a choice that only you can make.”

Avery felt like maybe she should get angry. Like Hannah had. Because Alyssa was right about that kind of subtle blame that women put onto themselves for all of the flaws in their marriage. But she had never hit David. And she never would.

Here Alyssa was blaming herself for her husband’s affair, and Avery didn’t know anything about their marriage, but she knew enough to know that it was entirely possible to talk to your spouse without first sleeping with another person.

You could be angry without hitting. You could be unhappy without betrayal.

She waited for rage to build inside her. For her anger to sweep in like a tide. But it didn’t. Because when she looked around the table she just saw herself. Smooth, made-up perfection.

Three beautiful women. Who had poured themselves into their husbands. Into their marriages. Their children. Who had made the successes of the man they were linked to their own. She knew what that was like. How futile it made everything feel, how she felt untethered. Like there was nothing holding her to the earth, because what he was she was. And if he was no longer a well-respected doctor, but just a disgraced wife beater, then what was she?

And she supposed that went for Alyssa too. He was an adulterer, then what did that make her? If he was a bad husband, then how could she be a perfect wife? And how could her life be enviable?

That ugly, unspoken component to all of this bloomed in her chest just then, and she couldn’t ignore it or deny it.

She wanted to be envied. She wanted people to look at her and think Avery Grant had it all.

That she was a good wife, and a good mother. That she was selfless and sacrificing and did all these things for all these other people, that she was beautiful and fit and looked so good for her age. And why? She had put so much focus on the facade of the house that she had ignored all the drywall crumbling inside.

And the problem with that was, when the facade was compromise, then there was nothing left. Nothing. The outside of the house wasn’t where you lived. No matter how beautiful it looked, no matter the curb appeal, if it was falling apart inside then who could call it a home?

And that was her.

So perfect on the outside. With this enviable marriage, and so desperately broken inside.

And her friends couldn’t deal with the fracture in her marriage, because they might have to look deeper at their own. She was breaking rank.

She was the thing they feared the most. The revelation of emptiness, the degradation of that artifice.

They weren’t her real friends. Not because they hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. Not that at all. But how could they be? They didn’t know each other. Everything between them was based on the lies they told the world, and the lies they told themselves.

She didn’t want to fit in anymore.

Not with them.

Not in their world.

“I am really fucking miserable,” Avery said. Four heads turned at the table next to her. And her friends’ eyes widened. “I hate all of this. It’s awful. You know what, I hate trivia night. I hate it. I hate that I spent the last two years sleeping beside a man who hits me. He hits me. I hate the plastic robot that I’ve become. I used to be interesting. And I used to want things. For myself. Now... All I want is for people to look at me and wish they had what they think I have, which isn’t even what I have. It’s bullshit.”

Alyssa startled. “People are looking at us.”

“Fine. You know what, I don’t care. Because I’m not perfect. And I can’t be perfect. I can’t hold it together anymore. I’m falling apart and that’s got to be okay, because holding it together was going to kill me. And maybe... Maybe I’ll just try to be happy instead.” She stuffed her square back into her bag. “You have anything else to say?”

“I think you maybe are having a psychotic episode,” Sandra said slowly. “I have a Xanax in my bag if you want it.”

“I don’t want a Xanax,” Avery said. “What I would like is a life that doesn’t require a low level of self-medication to get through the day. And I don’t know how far away I am from that. I really don’t. But I’m going to get there someday. Because this isn’t what I want. Not anymore. It’s not what I want to be. I’m quitting all the committees.”

“You can’t do that,” Karen said. “We have a lot