lamb to the slaughter - my take on mary and patricks conversation

My take on the conversation

"I hope you won't blame me too much."

His poor wife. How could he do this to her? He could see she was nervous by the way she was fiddling with her skirt. "Blame you for what?" Mary's voice was just below a sensitive whisper. Before continuing with the conversation, he took a deep breath. He started to talk in a weary tone, afraid he would regret everything he was about to say.

"Work has become more and more stressful as of late, especially all the paperwork. And on top of that, every day has been the same. I'm starting to feel like a robot. I don't want our child to grow up with an absent father." He had shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. This topic was hard for him to talk about especially since he always wished he had a present father growing up. He quickly poured himself more of the liquor and took a long swig before continuing;

"These past few months of your pregnancy have been worrying me. You're always on your feet tending to me. Everything you do seems to be for me. You deserve time to yourself. You deserve someone to be there for you. I feel like I've been using you. That is not the proper thing to do. You are pregnant for Christ's sake. You deserve more." His eyes were closed, and he could feel the emotion in the room.

He was starting to feel like this was a mistake. The ice in the glass had swished together, before he looked into his poor wife's eyes. They were completely dry and emotionless. Not a single tear, not a single expression. He wondered what was going on inside her head. As the ice swished against the glass again, he bowed his head again to look into his dark, half empty drink. What was he going to do without her? Nonetheless, he kept going.

"I want to leave you, my love." The glass of water Mary had poured herself fell to the floor. Looking down, what was left of the drink was now on the carpet. The ice was melting slower than he could process. Looking up again with faint tears in his eyes, he saw his shocked wife.

"Really?" she said with a trembling voice. He knew this was going to end bad. He then remembered the only advice his father ever gave him: "A man never cries."

He cleared his throat as he watched his wife pick up the glass and clean the water stained floor. All the sound seemed to drain from the room in a single second. He knew she was mumbling some nonsense about what a mess he had made, but not a single word had registered.
With pain in her voice, she whispered, "Why would you do this to me?" she whipped the tears quickly from her rosy cheeks and cleared her throat. Just barely missing a heart wrenching sob, she shut her mouth and sat back down. The tears rolling down her cheek were nothing less than devastating.

He looked up again only to see the eyes of his terrified wife. These were the same eyes crying of joy when they found out she was pregnant. These were the same eyes that looked shocked when he had gotten on his knee to propose. The same eyes that were filled with overwhelming love the night they first kissed.

He took a second to pause and consider what he was doing. But, after all, this was for the best. "So there it is."