The Walls She Built
Sarah stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, staring out the window at the backyard where her son, Jamie, played. He was kicking a ball against the fence, lost in his own world, oblivious to the battles waged around him. Battles he was too young to understand, but ones she had carefully crafted to seem like his reality.
Jamie was only seven, but Sarah knew that this was the age when his memories would begin to form, to solidify. These were the years she needed to make her mark, to mold his perception before he could start asking questions. And so, the walls had to be built—tall and sturdy—around the idea of his father. It wasn’t her fault. At least, she didn’t believe it was. It was just how things had to be.
The doorbell rang. She tensed, knowing exactly who it was. Mark. Jamie’s father. Her ex-husband. The man she had promised to love forever but had betrayed, over and over again, until there was nothing left of their marriage but a hollow shell. But no one had to know that. Not Jamie, not anyone.
"Mom, someone's at the door!" Jamie yelled, running inside.
"I know, sweetheart," she said, forcing a smile. "Why don’t you go to your room for a bit? Mommy needs to talk to Daddy."
Jamie’s face lit up. "Is Daddy here to take me to the park?"
"Not today, honey. Go on now." Her voice was too sweet, the kind of sickly sweetness that masked a lie. Jamie frowned but obeyed, shuffling off to his room with a disappointed look.
Sarah opened the door, and there stood Mark. His face looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than she remembered. He had lost weight, too. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel triumphant or guilty.
"Hey, Sarah," he said, his voice low. "I’m here to pick up Jamie. We’re supposed to go to the zoo today."
Sarah leaned against the doorframe, blocking his view of the hallway. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mark."
Mark’s brow furrowed. "We agreed. I checked with you yesterday."
"I know, but Jamie’s been having a hard time lately. He’s been acting out. He’s confused, Mark. He doesn’t understand why you don’t live with us anymore."
Mark’s mouth opened slightly, as if searching for the right words, but Sarah didn’t let him speak.
"I just think maybe it's too soon for you to take him out on these outings. He needs stability, and you showing up whenever you feel like it isn’t helping." Her words were sharp, laced with an accusation she knew wasn’t true, but it worked. She saw the hurt flicker in his eyes.
"I’m his father, Sarah," Mark said, his voice cracking. "I want to be in his life. You can’t keep pushing me away like this."
"I’m not pushing you away," she snapped, her carefully crafted mask slipping for a moment. She took a deep breath, then softened her tone. "I just want what’s best for Jamie. You know how sensitive he is. He’s been having nightmares ever since you left." Another lie, but one that worked well. "He wakes up crying, asking why Daddy doesn’t love him anymore."
That last line cut deep, and she could see it in Mark’s face. He swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists at his sides. She knew he would never lay a finger on her, but his frustration radiated off him in waves.
"That’s not fair, Sarah," Mark whispered. "You know I love him. You know I’d never leave him."
Sarah shrugged, feigning indifference. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you walked out on us."
Mark’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Sarah thought he would fight back. Tell her the truth. That she had been the one to ruin things with her infidelities, her betrayals. But he didn’t. He never did. He simply shook his head, defeated.
"I’m not giving up on him," Mark said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "I’m his father, and I have rights."
Sarah smirked. "Sure, Mark. You keep telling yourself that."
With that, she shut the door in his face. She felt a rush of satisfaction. Another victory. Another step in building the wall around Jamie. But even as she leaned her back against the door, she felt a small pang of something she couldn’t quite name. Guilt, maybe. Or fear.
She walked to Jamie’s room and found him sitting on his bed, staring at a photo of him and Mark from when they had all gone to the beach last summer. It had been just before the final blow-up, before Mark had found out about the other men and the lies she’d woven around him. Jamie looked up when she entered, his eyes wide and questioning.
"Why didn’t Daddy take me to the zoo?" he asked softly, clutching the photo to his chest.
Sarah knelt beside him, smoothing his hair. "Daddy’s... not feeling well, sweetheart. He’s been really busy with work, and sometimes grown-ups have a lot on their minds."
Jamie frowned. "But I miss him."
"I know, honey." Her voice softened, almost sincere. "But Daddy’s not always around when you need him. That’s why you have me. I’m here, aren’t I?"
He nodded, though the sadness didn’t leave his eyes. Sarah felt a small flicker of satisfaction. It was working. Slowly but surely, she was turning him away from Mark, making sure he would rely on her, trust her, need her. She wasn’t going to let Mark take him away. Not after everything she had done to build this life, even if it was built on lies.
Mark would always be the villain in this story. She would make sure of that. And Jamie—sweet, innocent Jamie—would never know the truth. That it had been her, all along, who had destroyed everything. It was her selfishness, her constant affairs, that had driven Mark away, not some lack of love on his part. But Jamie didn’t need to know that. He only needed to know the version of the story she wanted him to believe.
Sarah stood up and kissed Jamie’s forehead. "How about we go get ice cream?" she asked, her tone light and cheerful.
Jamie smiled weakly and nodded. "Okay."
And as they walked out of the house, Sarah felt that small pang of guilt again, but she quickly brushed it aside. She had won today. She had kept the walls up. That’s what mattered.
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