This was the part of her life that Peter didnot understand. The constant planning, thinking three steps ahead.The juggling. Peter went to work and came home. He traveled aboutonce a month, but sometimes he was gone for two weeks at time.Everything fell on Elizabeth to balance, in addition to her career.Not that Peter understood, or respected it. Peter was resentfulthat Elizabeth had a career that did not pay well. She brought tothe relationship student loans, which she had been slowly butdiligently paying off. Peter was fortunate to have parents whocould afford several years of college without passing the burden onto him. Elizabeth felt that she valued her education more forhaving to pay for it, where as Peter switched majors and switchedschools several times before deciding on a career path. He was alsoresentful that she worked shorter days and on the school calendar,rather than fifty-two weeks per year. Fight after fight occurredover childcare, and how working a full day, fifty-two weeks peryear was not feasible with two young elementary-school-agechildren. Peter could not see that after paying for before-schoolcare, after-school care and vacation care, that the family wouldend up only with about a thousand dollars more for the longer workyear. Originally, when they discussed planning a family, Elizabethhad always planned on staying home. She valued her education, andvalued her career, but had no intention of having children simplyto put them in daycare forty hours a week. It was her own personalset of beliefs, and she had always thought Peter was on board.Apparently, he was not. He felt that Elizabeth’s salary did notcontribute enough to the household. He never considered how shecontributed to the household in non-monetary ways.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was responsible for all ofthe housework, the grocery shopping, the cooking, laundry, andcarting the kids from one activity to another. She covered days offfrom school, and when the children were sick. She did all thehomework, and all the school projects. She arranged her schedule toattend as many field trips and class parties as was possible. Shesaved her sick days for when the children were sick, going toschool when she felt absolutely miserable just so she could bethere for her kids when they needed her. She asked, playfully atfirst, and then more seriously if she could hire someone to helpher clean their house. Peter scoffed at her and told her when sheworked full time (which to him was forty hours a week, fifty-twoweeks per year), then she could hire someone to help her.Otherwise, there was no excuse for why she couldn't get their housecleaned every week on her own.
Wearily, Elizabeth finished her marketing andtrudged up to the check-out, quickly scanning for the slow bagger.She had neither the patience nor the wherewithal to deal with thegentleman who was slow in not only mental capacity, but work ethicas well. Then a wave of self-loathing washed over her. Here shewas, a special education teacher, and she was trying to avoiddealing with the bagger who was disabled. In that moment, she hatedherself. It was no wonder that her husband did not like her.She didn't like her.
She hauled the groceries out of the cart andinto the back of her filthy mini-van. She was momentarilydistracted by the dirt, rubbing her fingers together distastefully,trying to remove the gray film that had transferred from the rearhatch door to her fingers. She wiped her hands on her pants,splotched from work anyway, and continued unloading thebags.
She sat in the driver's seat and put the keysin the ignition. She reached to turn the key and stopped, droppingher hand to her lap and resting her head against the headrest. Sheclosed her eyes and enjoyed the solitude of her van, feelingenclosed and safe. Peaceful. Her job in the classroom was stressfuland busy. Eight special needs preschoolers, in a class of fifteenstudents. Two other adults in the classroom, in addition to a teamof therapists in and out. Parents, always needy and demanding. Andat home. It was the same, her family always needy, alwaysdemanding. Elizabeth truly didn't know how she was going to make itthrough. She needed an outlet to vent, but was sorely lacking one.She tried not to drink too much, as she felt it would be a slipperyslope into drinking all the time. She felt very much at the end ofher rope. Although she was not terribly religious, she reverted toher long-forgotten Catholic upbringing, closed her eyes, and prayedfor strength.
It was only Monday. Elizabeth could notremember ever feeling this low; this detached from the world. Shewas in survival mode, stuffing all of her feelings down so deepthat they would never see the light of day. She was not sure howshe was going to make it through the week. She glanced over at thecar parked next to her to see a teenage girl behind the wheel. Itmade her think back to her teenage self. That girl, the oneeveryone called Liza, was long gone. She had been innocent andnaive. Even into her twenties, she had been idealistic, thinkingthat Peter was her knight in shining armor. Now, at the age ofthirty-four, she felt dead inside. Well, she wanted to feel deadinside. Because when she really let the feelings out, they were toopainful to deal with. She could not live with those feelings. Shecould not live with herself. She could not keep living with Peterthis way. But she could not be the one to destroy her familyeither. So, it was better to push all the thoughts and feelingsdown and just carry on for the sake of the kids.
She had to pull herself together. She didn'thave time to sit and pray. She pulled into the driveway, justmoments before the bus. She struggled to unload the groceries fromthe back of her van while the kids ran up the driveway darting infront of her cutting her off and almost making her fall down.Elizabeth dared not to
