I said, “I don’t understand.” 

Silence.

No explanation was offered, just pure silence.

I wondered if this was a fitful moment or the real deal, a divorce? There was no mistake about her sincerity. You need to leave was not a faint threat or the slip of her tongue. The rocks in our marriage transformed into boulders instantaneously.

 I did not misunderstand what I heard. She said the words with such finality. It set off a flash of chills that ignited my nerves from my neck across my back and shot down my arms and legs like a bolt of lightning. Silence was the boom. An uncomfortable gnaw formed quickly inside my stomach. The moment was at a standstill without an explanation. Silence only added to the unease of the moment. 

My thoughts of tomorrow dismantled so I could focus all of my attention on what was going on at this juncture. I moved to the outer edge of our bed. It might as well have been outer space. The distance between us grew quickly. I felt my body retract. A pool of phlegm flooded my throat. I swallowed nervously. I repeated the words ‘you need to leave’ 100 times in my mind in a single second.

I coughed to release another torrent of fluid down my cords. I felt my Adam’s apple rise and fall in slow motion. I re-swallowed, then coughed again, to scrap the residual mucus off my throat to keep me from gurgling my voice. I didn’t even know what to say if I had something to say at all. Before another torrent of phlegm returned, I swallowed again. Silence hummed between us, its frequencies raised and lower in the background of my ears like a legion of crickets in the far distance. 

The silence between us persisted.

I scraped my cords again with specific intention to say something, but I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. I was clearly nervous and didn’t expect to leave at the end of the day. The mucus attached itself to my vocal cords like a barnacle to the hall of a ship. I swallowed again. I was living a surreal moment. I listened to the hum of stillness. Its disturbing pitch became uncomfortable. The pounding of my heart interrupted the octave of quietness.

I reflected back to the rejections of my mother, casting me out of her life, and now, my wife.

What are the odds? I replayed her words again in my head, ‘you need to leave.’ I didn’t understand why she would say those words when no argument, discussion, disagreement or indifferences were at hand. No explanation could be harvested. Still, my mind scrambled for an answer. I searched every corner of my brain for any explanation, with no retort. My mind shifted to the thought of a divorce. But she didn’t say she wanted a divorce. I dislodged my throat once again. I didn’t want a divorce. My imagination was taking over my sensibility or was my sensibility in a state of naivety.

The word divorce was never uttered in my upbringing. It didn’t exist in my family near or far. I didn’t even know anybody who had gone through a divorce. I didn’t think a divorce was even possible, let alone probable. That was the other guy. 

The probability of a divorce now loomed in my head. At this point I was willing to do anything to keep the family together. ‘Maybe she just needed some alone time,’ I thought. 

I remembered saying early on in our marriage, “We will never get a divorce.” Unbeknownst to me at the time, those words built a chasm between us. To me it meant we would always work out our indifferences and learn from one another’s experiences. To my wife it meant I could do anything I wanted to her and she would never divorce me. I couldn’t have been more bewildered by the dichotomy of our perspectives. How two people could hear one comment and come up with two vastly different ideologies of prescription was beyond me. This enigma added to the ambiguity of marriage.

I learned growing up as a little boy at the dinner table that differences helped a person grow and understand life. Listening to arguments developed my mind with knowledge and information. To me, disagreements grew a repertoire of insight.

To me this was valuable information to form an intellectual footing from other points of view.

Intelligence is constructed from opposing points of differences, not from harmony.

At my young age, I comprehended opposition as a journeyman’s way to intellectual property. Intellectual property was the gateway to intelligence. This acquisition of knowledge, even in silence, is a powerful and brilliant path in the quest for adaptation.

Regardless of other people’s opinions, thoughts or uncomfortable conversations, disagreements will always exist. This form of debate within the walls of one’s home could lead to successful encounters with people outside the walls of our home. This was more valuable than throwing roses beneath their feet.

Every situation, every relationship, every person you meet will have a different opinion or thought than you.I translated disagreements in my mind as a way to keep the family together, even prosper in the outside world.

I saw opposition as opportunities for my family.

I saw no reason to view failure in dissent. I simply modified the argument as information that would serve my children. I never viewed it as a detriment and certainly not as a reason for divorce. It was about intelligence not contention. This is what I taught my children, at my expense.

Sheldon, a long time friend of mine, once asked me, “I don’t get it Robert, I get along with my wife. We have no disagreements. You’ve got great kids, they work hard, they all go to church, they listen to you and they contribute to society.” 

I was feeling pretty chic. 

Sheldon continued, “What did you do differently than me, because I can’t get my kids to do anything or listen to me. They complain about working. They don’t want to go to church. It’s like I have a mutiny on my hands every single day with my kids.” 

I thought about what Sheldon said to me for a moment. I said to Sheldon, “The only thing I can think of to advise you on is to have a disagreement with your wife every single night and somehow your kids will get along with you.” 

He laughed. 

So did I.

I never imagined disagreements could be a reason she would ask me to leave. I felt it would teach our children to experience and encounter what the world outside the walls of our home would be. This was more valuable than roses beneath their feet.

Differences helped a person grow and prevented narcissistic behaviors from forming. Children who never experience conflict grow up with the expectation that they are right and worthy of everyone’s adoration and everybody else is wrong if they disagree or don’t treat them like royalty. 

Disagreements are good. To me, dissent was an invaluable learning expedition. It was for the greater good. I knew people always had differences, and always will, and this would teach them how to work through differences. 

But of course this only works when two people are on the same page about disagreements.

 I even thought about my dream of being a motivational speaker with my wife. That would never come to fruition now. It was okay. Even though it could help out a friend or a couple needing advice or hope. This information could unite people in their relationship with one another where roses do not. This was the positive side of turning negative into positive. I thought the vast chasm between my wife and I was a good thing for humanity. We always seemed to be working out our differences. Or so I thought.

I dislodged the lump in my throat again. I said with tribulation as a pit in my stomach intensified, my frontalis muscle tightening into a scroll. I shifted my body to the outer edge of the bed and said, “What do you mean I need to leave? I don’t understand why I have to leave.” The pit in my stomach intensified as I waited for her answer. 

She paused for an uncomfortable moment only to reiterate, “You just need to leave.” 

There was no other answer or explanation otherwise given.

For the first time in our marriage I became fearful for our relationship. She wanted roses blooming underneath her feet. I wanted a real relationship with healthy debate and discussion. I would pay a price for not understanding this, an expense that would echo in my head from that moment on. Another chill spread across my back and down my legs, unnerving my sanctity of the moment.

I turned and laid on my stomach on the edge of the bed, searching for an answer. Time passed. The silence echoed between the two of us. It was deafening. If I could describe what the vacuum of outer space would feel like or sound like, that moment is what it would be like. It was an eerie feeling of isolation, loneliness, and a coldness that chilled my future. The stability of my life was no longer comprehensible.

My mind shifted in the moment to the logistics of how I was going to take care of myself. My lawn customers were important to me, and they needed my attention regardless of what my home life was. I needed to see my children. They were still young. Our third child was 5 months old. I needed to be a daddy, to balance my wife’s existence. My family needed me and I needed my family. But even more importantly I needed my wife. My thoughts continue to scramble my brain, confused with so many thoughts going through my mind. ‘How can I take care of my basic needs or even have a roof over my head? Where was I going to stay? When can I come back into the house? I hadn’t even gone yet and these thoughts overwhelmed me.

I eventually fell asleep and the pit in my stomach dissipated. As soon as I woke up, the pain in my stomach reunited with my consciousness without any delay. I looked over to see an empty bed. My wife was already out of the bed and gone for the day, along with the children. I suppose she didn’t sleep well either. 

The house seemed empty with an eerie stillness.

I had to get ready for the day.

I had a schedule to keep.

The entire day was spent searching for answers. I wanted to be with my family under the same roof. I called my bishop. Maybe he understood what was going on and he can help me keep my family together. He didn’t have any answers either. He just said she was unhappy, but she had no specific reasons, even behind closed doors.

My worries continued throughout the day.

After her demand, I would leave, but temporarily.

I would be back, we would have two more children, and our marriage would continue. But eventually her need for roses beneath her feet and my sublime innocence rooted in truth would clash until we separated.

And the story continues…