13. Jolene
Sometime between stepping into the bathroom and getting out again after a long hot shower, I changed my mind about going out on the town. Suddenly, the thought of being around people wasn’t so appealing, and I felt even worse when I stood in front of the mirror and took stock of myself.
Beneath all the bravado and my seemingly new insight on life and things and deciding to move on, I realized that I hadn’t really mourned the end of my past life the way I should. I’d basically just tossed all those feelings in a drawer and locked it, never to be revisited again, and who could blame me?
Exactly what is it that I’m supposed to dwell on here? The fact that perimenopause has been kicking my ass for the better part of the last couple of years, or that my childhood sweetheart, the man who had promised me forever, had imploded our lives for someone less than half his age?
I barely recognized the woman in the mirror looking back at me. That woman wanted to be strong and stay the course of disinterest in this life that was coming to an end soon with the divorce, but inside, I couldn’t help but feel those human pangs of loss.
It”s not that I’m pretending to be fine; I think I genuinely am in a strange way because, well, I have to be. It’s not like I can change any of those things now, can I? And I’ve never been one to throw myself to the floor and kick up a fuss over things that were pretty much out of my control because I hate wasting my time.
But I also think that maybe I need to go through the process now before it creeps up on me later, as things have been known to in the past. I shouldn’t swallow my feelings and fears just to appear tough to the people around me. I could care less what my stupid ex thinks at this point, but my children and friends need to see the reality of what all these new changes are really doing to me.
My daughter, especially, should know that it is okay to have moments of self-reflection and weakness when going through something like this. I want her and my sons to know that it’s okay to have feelings of weakness while being as strong as they can be in any given situation, but was I going about this the right way?
Funnily enough, I worry more about the impression I’m giving my kids and the example I’m setting for them with my actions than I do about the end of my marriage. It’s true that once I learned of the affair, that part of me died, and I buried it before it could rear its ugly head ever again.
I knew there was no coming back from such a betrayal, no matter what my soon-to-be ex might say; for me, the moment he stuck his pecker in someone else was the last moment he was anything meaningful to me. I mean, the man has known me practically half my life, and other than Sheila, he knows better than anyone that adultery is a very hard no for me.
If, knowing how I felt about that, he could still do what he did, why should I waste my time trying to hold onto something that obviously meant nothing to him? I have too much pride and self-love to stoop as low as fighting over him with that child whom he seems to prefer.
But I’ve come to realize with time that that was just one side of the matter. Anger had led me to make the precise cut I had in the beginning, but the girl who’d gotten married amidst dreams of happily ever after was still in there somewhere, and that poor child was going to suffer if I didn’t at least acknowledge some hard truths.
Like the fact that everything about my life was about to change, I’m no longer going to be someone’s wife with all the responsibilities that entails. I’ll no longer be half of a couple and no longer have to look after someone else’s wants and needs. From here on out, with the kids gone, it’s just going to be me. What the hell am I supposed to do to fill that void?
Right now, I feel as if I’m in limbo, and that’s probably part of the reason for my feelings of melancholy at this stage in the game. Because until my divorce is final by law, I’m still married to that dick, and as such, I want to carry myself with as much dignity as I possibly can until I can see the back of Kevin the snake and the life he’d shit all over.
Now, you might ask yourself, since that’s the case, why didn’t I just give him the house? But I have a perfectly good answer to that, maybe two or three. One, I’m the one that made this place a home for us and our kids.
Two, this is where I’ve always imagined having my kids and grandkids when they came for the big family events that I’d been planning since they were little, and last but not least, because I know how much this house means to my asshole ex.
The house was always a sign of prestige for him. It sits in one of the best neighborhoods in our city and carries a bit of class stigma with it. And if all that isn’t enough, the way I see it, he’s the one who’d crapped all over everything we’d built here together, so why should he reap any kind of reward for that. Low key, though, I just like sticking it to him and taking him for everything I can get my grubby little hands on.
I’ve been reading some of those self-help books for women my age in my position, and I’ve got to say, the people who write that shit have either never been married or they were born with dicks. I’ll be double damned if I’m going to walk around here being the bigger person all the time. The hell with that. Let someone else wear the big girl panties for a change.
Since I can’t inflict the same pain on him as he did me because I have morals, after all, I’ll hit him where I know it will hurt, and for him, that’s his pocket and his good name. To that point, whenever anyone asks about the divorce, I’ll be sure to give them all the details. This is the South, a place where time forgot.
So, while the rest of the country is heading hard for hell in a handbasket, we’re still stuck somewhere a good fifty years behind. Meaning we still believe in handshakes to seal the deal, and men who screw around on their wives with younger women are still shunned in certain circles.
You see, contrary to popular opinion, in these parts, it’s the women who run shit, even if we do it from behind the scenes. All it would take is one-afternoon tea with a select group of women to get the ball rolling, and Kevin the hump won’t have a leg to stand on.
There would be no more golfing buddies and no old pals to go fishing with on the weekend. Because once I put the bug in their wives’ ears, he’d be ostracized like he had the bubonic plague. And yes, you can bet your ass my vengeful butt is gonna do just that just as soon as I get him out of my house.
I was just getting myself in a dither again, so I walked away from the mirror and went to find something to wear to bed since I didn’t really feel like getting dressed again that day, but I did feel a lot better, all things considered. I hadn’t given any thought to that girl or who attacked her, and I didn’t plan to. That part of my life was decidedly over, and besides, it had nothing to do with me.
* * *
KEVIN
* * *
“Why did you do that?Why did you give the cops Jolene’s name? Jo would never do something like this.”
“Jo? You’re still calling her by that pet name?” Of all the things to get upset about at a time like this, she would latch onto that. What the hell had I gotten myself into here anyway? The more time goes by, the more I realize what a colossal mistake I had made.
What happened to those feelings of excitement I had in the beginning? That adrenaline rush that had spurred me on to have the affair. How come it all seems to have disappeared now that things were out in the open? Was it just the chase, then? Just the sneaking around and getting away with something I shouldn’t? Isn’t that a bit childish in hindsight?
“Listen, I keep telling you, Jolene and I were together for a very long time; you can’t expect me to just forget everything about her overnight, so stop acting like a spoilt child and focus on what’s going on here. Now, who attacked you? Because it wasn’t Jolene.” I wanted to say that we’d done enough to my poor wife already, but I knew that that would only cause bigger issues.
I knew also that it was her mother in her ear egging her on with this foolishness. Something I didn’t take into consideration was the fact that I’d be dealing with Marly now that I was involved with her daughter. How I could overlook that fact was anyone’s guess, but I never expected things to go this far or for anyone to learn about the affair, so there’s that.
But forget all that; this new development is only adding more fuel to the fire that’s already burning out of control. Something else I realize: I’ve never felt so alone. Not even my mother was here. I’ve been to this hospital a handful of times in the past, all surrounding the birth of my children or when one of them had to get patched up for some reason or another.
Each time, there was someone there to hold my hand, if only just figuratively. Dad would be the first one breaking down the door, getting after the staff about seeing to his grandkids or daughter-in-law, but now I’m stuck here with Marly the harpy and her incessant nagging about my wife.
“She told you who attacked her, who else could it be if not that bitch?” I bit my tongue to keep myself from defending Jo again because that only seemed to ignite whatever madness these two had going on in their heads.
“The cops already talked to her and cleared her, so it obviously wasn’t her.”
“Well, then she paid someone to do it.”
“Jolene is not that type of person; now, enough of this, or I’m out of here.”
“You see, Mom, he’s still defending her; he’s still in love with her.”
Anne rolled to her side away from me, and I wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of my lungs that, yes, I still loved my wife and hated what had become of my life. That this was all a mistake, and I wish I had never been as stupid as I had been. But what purpose would that serve? Where would I be then?
It was obvious that Jo had no intention of forgiving me. I saw it in her eyes the last time we spoke. She was well and truly done, and all I was doing was prolonging the inevitable. But a man had a right to fight to hold on to what was his, didn’t he? And Jo and the kids are mine.
Forget the stupid house, the money, the assets, all of it. Those things seem so empty and insignificant now, with the prospect of losing the people I love most staring me in the face. Men are liars.
All those men walking around with their new shiny wives and seemingly second chances at life are nothing more than shells of their former selves, just pretending to enjoy their new life because what else were they supposed to do after upsetting the apple cart?
No one wants the world to know that they’re a bungling idiot. That they were nothing more than the dog with a bone, who’d lost the best of everything to gain nothing in return. Either that, or I have gone about this whole thing all wrong. It can’t be that I’m the only one who’d come to this realization.
And now she expects me to never speak of my wife again in a pleasant tone? She expects me to forget the best years of my life as if they never happened. To wipe clean every memory I have of the past twenty-something years. How stupid are these two women?