50. Rosenna
Chapter fifty
Rosenna
“G avin and I are getting a divorce.”
“You only said you two were having problems...” my father remarked, his eyebrows furrowing.
I shook my head. “It sounds a bit better on the ears to hear that than to hear we’re in the process of separating.”
Nancy shook her head, seeming annoyed. “God, all of this sounds absolutely ludicrous. You’re throwing away a perfectly good marriage all to satisfy some female empowerment vision in your mind. It makes no sense whatsoever.”
I turned to her. “Tell me, Nancy, do you honestly think I’m happy? Has it ever mattered if I was or should Gavin be the beginning and end of my life regardless of how he’s treated me?”
She scoffed. “He has treated you with nothing but love for your entire marriage.”
“He has lied to me, manipulated me, and subjected me to feeling like I was beneath him for five fucking years.”
“Rosenna—” my father interrupted.
I snapped my head over to him as I practically seethed. “Not now, Dad.”
Nancy continued, her voice dramatic as she mocked me, “Oh, be the victim. That’s all you’ve seen yourself as.”
“Because that’s how I’ve felt my entire marriage. Do you think I want to feel hurt? Do you think I asked to feel unwanted by my husband? To feel used or not ever good enough?” Tears threatened to leak from my eyes.
The room was quiet. Beckham seemed ready to come over to comfort me, but he remained still, the anger evident in the tenseness of his shoulders. Patrick seemed uncomfortable; his lips pressed into a thin line as his wife’s expression was pinched, her face flushed with what I could only guess was a mix of rage and disbelief.
Grace, on the other hand, was still utterly calm. I didn’t want to imagine why she seemed so relaxed in the face of such a heated argument. Or why she and Nancy seemed rather close. Or why her son struck an uncanny resemblance to the man I once loved... or thought I loved.
“Rosenna... calm down. Let’s think rationally about this,” my father advised, stepping closer to me.
I scoffed, taking a step back into my mother’s hold, her arms still around me almost protectively. “Think about fucking what, Dad? How I should keep sacrificing my happiness for a man who never even loved me? Who never respected me? I am more than somebody ’ s fucking wife. ”
“Rosenna, language,” my father warned sharply.
“Language?” I repeated, incredulously. “Honestly, out of everything I just said, that’s what you’re concerned about? Not the fact that I’m standing here telling you my marriage is a disaster—no, you’re worried about my tone?”
His gaze remained stone cold. “Disaster or not, marriage is about sacrifice and commitment. You sound childish and unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable? Do you even hear yourself? I’m telling you that I. AM. MISERABLE. What part of ’my marriage was all a fucking lie’ don’t you understand?”
“You’re making a foolish decision that will ruin your reputation—”
“At this point, I’m ready and willing to have my reputation tarnished if it means getting away from this family.”
For a moment a look of hurt flashed across his face, but as quick as it came, it vanished, his eyes narrowing.
Suddenly the front door opened again, and as if we were all a part of some fucked-up soap opera, Gavin Johnson, the man of the fucking hour, walked in.
Whereas an hour ago his expression had been one of arrogance, now he looked ashamed, defeated. His eyes found mine after he stepped into the dining room. Oddly enough, a feeling of hesitation washed over me as his hand held the divorce papers that we’d only just argued over.
“Gavin, your wife has been unreasonable all afternoon,” Nancy sneered.
He glanced over at his mother. His eyes silently glazed over Grace and her son and then over to Beckham, who crossed his arms.
He let out a dejected sigh as he placed the papers on the dining room table with a sigh.
“She’s not my wife anymore.”
My eyes widened. He actually signed them.
There were no arguments, accusations, or threats to combat it. He just signed it . Even though it took a private investigator, the betrayal of his best friend, multiple infidelities, and five years of an unhappy marriage, he actually signed the papers that would finally free me from him.
Nancy looked like she was ready to explode. “You are a damn fool, and you—” she said, pointing over to me “—are a whore .”
“Nancy, that’s enough,” my father said, finally showing me some compassion.
Nancy shook her head. “No, no, it all makes sense now. She acquires a new client, and only a few months later, she divorces my son. She’s lost all of her values and morals because she’s been spreading her legs for him .”
Gavin’s father stepped in.
“Honey, please calm down—”
I winced as Beckham’s voice cut off Patrick’s. “So what if she has?” he asked, his tone almost lazy, as if the accusation was more of a nuisance than a threat.
Nancy’s eyes narrowed further, almost as if she wasn’t expecting her accusing words to be true.
Beckham continued shamelessly with a rather nonchalant shrug, “It’s not like she was getting anything worthwhile from your son anyway.”
“You bastard—” said Nancy.
But it was Gavin who cut her off.
“Her affair isn’t the reason she’s leaving.” He sighed. “She’s leaving because of mine.”
Nancy and Grace froze, almost like two deer in headlights.
“Your what?” Patrick asked.
Looking over to his father, Gavin continued, “My affairs... my children are the reason she’s leaving... For years, I haven’t played my role as a husband. Not when I’ve been manipulating her to fund my role as a father... I tried to hold onto you, Rosenna...” He glanced my way, finally looking the most honest and truthful I’d ever seen him throughout our entire relationship. “I tried to force you to realize you needed me when in reality... I’m the one who needed you this entire time.”
The room was left in utter silence for the millionth time. My father looked torn, Patrick looked stunned, my mother was silently comforting me in thought, Grace seemed to have a mix of anger and shock, Beckham’s eyes never left mine, reading my body language and expressions cautiously, and Nancy... Nancy was absolutely livid.
In a flash, she crossed the room swiftly, and before I could even react, she slapped me across the face. I gasped, clapping a hand to my cheek.
“You ruined everything, you whore! You ruined—”
Nancy’s words were abruptly cut short as the adrenaline pumping through my veins moved my hand as I raised it and slapped the absolute shit out of her. And unfortunately, the anger, resentment, and fury of the last five years were emitted through my hand as it sent her flying to the ground.
Beckham was immediately by my side, and Patrick lowered himself to help his wife even while his face held anger.
“Let me go. I’ve had enough of that fucking bitch,” I seethed as Beckham dragged me outside of the home, Nancy and Patrick yelling incoherently behind me.
“Flower... breathe baby... just breathe.”
I ripped myself out of his hold. I pushed my hair out of my face as I paced the gravel of the driveway. Shaking out my stinging hand, my shoulders rose and fell as I tried to regulate my breathing.
Beckham stopped me and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. I felt rigid, my blood pumping, my body begging to run back in and take my anger out on the old bat, but I didn’t give in to the urge. Reluctantly leaning back in Beckham’s hold, I let out a sigh of relief as he held me gently.
Tears fell down my face, and soon, sobs began to escape my chest as my anger was replaced by sadness and relief.
Turning in Beckham’s hold, I threw my arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He caressed my back lovingly as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear, attempting to get me to relax in his arms. And that was all I wanted to do from now on. I was done with living a life that served me unhappiness and regret. I was done with being associated with a so-called family that made it their goal to bring me down and force me to comply with their degrading and demeaning values.
I wanted nothing more than to be embraced by my flawed, imperfect artist, who allowed me to see the beauty of life, of art, of passion, who allowed me to succumb to my deepest desires, to experience a relationship where I was put above all, to experience the feeling of being cherished in a way I had never known before, to experience simultaneous feelings of love, lust, and longing... to experience the art of discretion .