The third time he rang, you picked up and he said, he said he was sorry.
You said you had a lot to think about but you would come home soon.
“We have to talk about it,” he said.
“We have to make it a priority,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said.
But you knew it wasn’t an accident. You saw him as he raised the plate high with his arms above his head, the food propelled to the floor. You saw his look, all glower and rage. He looked to see you looking, the energy of the anger seething through his arms, powering up from ground to back to neck to shoulder. The savage shadows on his face flickered before he flung the emptied china to the parquet, his hands in fists.
And you had left before he could say anything.
He phoned again as your reluctant feet were already on their way.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said.
“I’m not a violent person,” he said.
“It was a long and stressful day,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said, another time. And you waited for him to tell you it would never happen again.
But…you are scared. You don’t feel safe. And if you think about it you think … this is an escalation…where next?
