Someone Else’s Nest

My husband still struggles to be polite or friendly to me when we see each other. Once in a while he cracks a smile and we banter and I think “Yes! He’s got it!” and then it quickly falls two steps back to sneering cold disrespect.

I have talked to him about it. Written texts. Written letters. Screamed at him about it. Told him off. Begged him. Told him I’d start treating him the same. Tried to explain that it’s not easy for me either, I’m mad too, I’m hurt too. But it’s important that the kids see us showing kindness. I keep telling them we’re still friends. Don’t make a fucking liar out of me too.

It’s been almost 6 months that we’ve been separated, but for the kids sake we have a “nesting agreement”. Funny how poly language sprouts up all over the place, “nesting partners” is what we were to each other. We shared a nest and built a life and I liked that phrase better than “primary partner” any day. Now our nesting arrangement means the kids stay in the nest with me, and when it’s his time he shows up and I fly the nest. Less disruption for them. No shipping back and forth. Less change.

I’m in my best friend Joie’s nest now. She’s away for this lockdown, staying with her family, so her little bachelorette pad with a view is all mine when I need it. I water her plants, smoke joints in my underwear, clear my head. I’m grateful.

When I told him he had to get help or leave I never would have guessed he’d pick “leave”. I would have bet the world on our nest. But he took the out. Addicts do that, I hear. And he’s been angry at me ever since. Addicts do that, too. I can’t make him be my friend, I can’t make him be nice. I can’t evaporate his long list of resentments. He says he doesn’t want to lose me as a friend too, “then try harder, please” I ask him. I’m not sure what else to do.

So I flop on someone else’s bed. Take in the view.