The Christmas I Left

Eric Whitmore stood the last suitcase up by the front door.

"Evelyn," he said, "it's the same deal as last year."

I stopped wiping the coffee table.

And just stared at him.

I looked at his mom, Candace, and his dad, Harold, hovering behind him.

I looked at his sister, Brittany, and her husband, Derek.

And their kid, Mason, clutching his parents' hands.

The whole squad. All six of them.

They were heading to Aspen.

For the third year in a row.

For the Christmas break.

"Flights are insane right now, and honestly, you'd just be bored anyway," Eric said, the words rolling off his tongue like a well-rehearsed script.

"Besides, someone's gotta watch the place," Candace chimed in, not even bothering to look at me while she dug through her purse.

"Yeah, Evelyn, we'll be back before you know it!" Brittany added with that fake-ass innocent smile.

Same lines for three years.

Not a single word changed.

Year one, I cried my eyes out.

Year two, I screamed my head off.

But this year?

I just smiled.

"Fine," I said.

One word. That's it.

Eric blinked, completely caught off guard by how chill I was being.

He'd probably spent all morning rehearsing his excuses.

Ready to shut down my questions, my tears, and my "hysterical" outbursts.

Now, he had nothing to fight against.

A flicker of awkwardness crossed his face.

"Well... okay then. Take care of things here. Call if you need anything."

"Mhm."

"You need some cash?"

"I'm good."

"Alright. We're heading out."

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase.

The whole clan swarmed out the door.

The front door slammed shut with a heavy thud.

The world finally went quiet.

Candace's cheap perfume was still lingering in the air.

A few half-finished glasses of water were still sweating on the table.

I stood there, taking it all in.

For a long, long time.

Then, I pulled out my phone.

And found a contact I'd saved a week ago.

"Sal, it's Evelyn. You ready?"

The background noise on his end was loud.

"Evelyn! Hey! You finally making the move?"

"I'm in," I said.

"The house. List it. Now."

"You got it! I'll bring some buyers over ASAP. I'm gonna get you a killer price, I promise!"

"Don't bother with the top price."

I walked to the window and watched the airport shuttle pull away from the curb.

"Sal, I want this done fast. Like, yesterday fast."

"List it ten percent below market value for an all-cash deal."

The line went dead silent for a second.

"Whoa, you sure? That's a massive chunk of change you're leaving on the table."

"I'm positive."

"Sell it. Now."

I hung up.

Tossed the phone onto the cushions.

And walked into the bedroom.

I opened the closet and pulled out my own suitcase.

The same red one I'd rolled in here with three years ago.

Now, it was leaving with me.

I'm done with this house.

And I'm damn sure done with this "husband."

They love doing everything together as a family?

Fine. I'll give them exactly what they want.

I folded my clothes, one by one, and packed them away.

I took my time.

It felt like a ritual.

A final goodbye to three years of being a doormat.

I didn't have much.

Everything I cared about fit into one bag.

Finally, I reached into the back of the nightstand and pulled out a leather folder.

The deed to the house.

Only my name was on it.

The one bit of leverage my parents made sure I had.

I tucked it into my jacket pocket.

Zipped the suitcase shut.

I stood up and took one last look around.

I chose those curtains. I picked those sheets.

Our wedding photo was still staring back at me from the wall.

Eric looked so "tender" in that shot.

And I looked so "happy."

What a joke!

I walked over, ripped the frame off the wall.

And slammed it onto the floor.

The glass shattered into a million pieces.

That was the most satisfying sound I'd heard in this house in three years!

I grabbed my bag and walked out.

I didn't look back.

My phone buzzed.

It was Sal.

"Evelyn, I'm downstairs. I've got two serious buyers with me. Both all-cash, ready to close."

"Come on up," I said. "Door's open."