When I walked through the door I was hit with the angry sounds of Rage Against The Machine. “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” I mumbled along thinking it was appropriate with what I was getting ready to do.
Jason always swallowed his anger, never allowing anything to ever slip. He showed it in other ways by being passive aggressive towards me. Not this time. I was not going to tip toe around him or suffer his petty childish behavior for another month.
I pushed the kitchen door open, and the smell of deep fried fish engulfed me. I hated fish and Jason damn well knew it. Let my plan begin. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t fry fish in the house anymore,” I snapped even before the kitchen door had a chance to close.
“Hi Kim, it’s nice to see you too,” he said in an overly calm voice.
“Jason, we agreed.”
“No, all you said was don’t do it again. Since I pay half the bills I’m entitled to cook what I want,” he said in that same annoying tone.
I felt my temper rising and knew that this fight was going to be a big one. “Air it out and get the shit out of my kitchen.”
“You air it out.”
“Me? I’ll air it out.” I knew this was crossing a line, but I was tired of it. I picked up his plate of fish and threw it out the back door. “Done. Now clean this mess up.”
Jason stood there visibly counting to ten bottling up the rage that was plain on his face.
‘No, not this time,’ I thought to myself. “Why aren’t you saying anything? I can see it on your face Jason; you want to call me a bitch. Say it.”
Jason took another deep breath and turned his back to me cleaning up his mess.
“Say something, Jason.”
“What do you want me to say, Kim?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“You wanna call me a bitch? Call me a bitch Jason. What are you afraid of?” He still wouldn’t look at me. So I started pushing him on his shoulder. “Tell me to stop pushing you. Tell me to shut the fuck up Jason, call me a bitch, something.”
“Seriously, nothing? God, Jason stand up for yourself for once.” I was getting ready to give up and go upstairs when my husband of three years turned on me.