Marriage scoreboard
My husband, Mark, lost a point every time he ditched me for his childhood sweetheart, Sarah.
By our second anniversary, our score was
dangerously low, and then I miscarried our first child.
When they wheeled me out of the operating
room, the hallway was empty. A raging
thunderstorm outside
–
Sarah’s always been
terrified of storms. Mark never showed up, not
even when I was discharged. I pulled up my
phone and deleted the remaining ten points. Zero. We were done.
It started with a mango pudding. Mark came home from a business trip, handed it to me like a peace offering. But I’m allergic to mangoes. Mark knew that. In the beginning, he’d be so careful, shielding me from anything mango-
flavored. He doesn’t even like sweet stuff.
Sarah’s the one with the mango obsession.
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I glanced at the pudding, then tossed it aside,
going back to my instant ramen. Mark frowned.
“Why are you eating that junk again? I thought
you loved dessert? This place is famous, I
brought it back specially for you.” It was from
some trendy dessert place in Austin, all over
Instagram. Mark hates those kinds of places.
He would never go there himself.
“I’m allergic to mangoes,” I said, finally looking up after finishing my noodles. Mark flinched, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Sorry…It’s their signature dish. I forgot about your allergy…” He tried to recover. “Didn’t you mention that new steakhouse? We could go tonight?”
“No,” I said, wiping my mouth and standing up. “Our anniversary’s over. No point.” He’d
forgotten. He was the one who insisted we
celebrate every anniversary. Mr. Romance,
always saying love needed to be celebrated. This was the first time we hadn’t.
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Mark’s loaded, good–looking, young and
successful. Everyone thinks I’m lucky to have
him. They don’t see the scorecard on my
phone, the endless string of minus signs. Only
my phone knew the truth about our marriage. I
was about to deduct point number 491 when a
sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. Warm
liquid trickled down my legs. I didn’t dare look.
at the stain spreading across the white sofa. I
just stared at Mark, my face pale. “Hospital…
take me…”
I hadn’t seen panic in his eyes in a long time.
As they wheeled me into surgery, I heard the
I
doctor lecturing him. “She’s pregnant! How
could you let her overwork herself? She was
just here a few days ago, collapsed from
exhaustion! I told you she needed rest! Why
aren’t you taking this seriously?”
Mark’s “business trip” was actually a concert in
Austin with Sarah. He’d dropped everything,
leaving me to clean up his mess at the
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company, finishing his proposals, working late. I never thought it would cost me my baby. Before the operating room doors swung shut, I saw the dazed look on his face.
When I woke up, the room was empty. The nurse gave me a pitying look. “Your husband said he had something important to take care of. He left. I’ll help you back to your room…” The anesthesia was wearing off, leaving me in a haze.
Thunder cracked, illuminating the hospital room. I woke up with a dry throat. The room was still empty. I struggled out of bed and poured myself a glass of water. It was ice cold.. Thinking about everything, I poured it out and made myself a fresh, warm one. Sipping slowly, I touched my abdomen. There had been a life
there.
I pulled out my phone and switched to my
burner account. One contact: Sarah. I’d added
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no
her on a whim. Back when Mark and I first
started dating, I’d made a private Instagram
account to document our relationship
faces, just little everyday moments. Sarah stumbled across it and messaged me. “Girl,
your boyfriend sounds just like mine! He hates.
sweets, but he’ll drive all over town to get me fresh mangoes!” My post had been about Mark
picking out the mango pieces from my fruit
salad. On impulse, I added her. That’s how I
found out her “boyfriend” was Mark.
I confronted him, demanded a break–up. He
begged, swore he hadn’t cheated. “She’s just a
childhood friend, we grew up together. She’s
not well, she has this…fantasy about us.” His
mother even called, backing up his story. I
believed him. But why, even after we were
married, did he always drop everything for
Sarah?
