Chapter 18
GWEN ARRANGED FOR a free consultation with an attorney while the kids were in school. I know what my rights are and what I am entitled to. I know the kids will most likely stay with me because I am their primary caregiver, but it doesn’t make this conversation with Mike any easier.
“I want a divorce.”
He stares at me blankly for a moment before his brows furrow, and I see the anger building as his expression changes. “You want a divorce?” He laughs as he rubs his hand over his chin. “You do realize you’re going to lose the kids. They’re coming with me.”
I take a deep breath and keep my eyes lowered to the floor. I hate this, but I also know it has to happen. “No. The kids will stay with me.”
“I’m the one who makes the money. I’m the one who pays for what they need.”
“And I’m the one who gives them what they need.”
“Bullshit, Everly. We both know you’re a lousy mother. You think you’re going to punish me by taking them from me, but you’re the one who’s losing in this situation. I’ll make sure you get nothing.”
“I don’t want anything.” I try not to let his words affect me as I lift my eyes to his. I want him to understand. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I know you’re angry, Mike, but this is best for all of us. We haven’t been happy for years. Aren’t you tired of being miserable with me?”
He stops pacing and stares at me for a moment. I think he can see that I’m not just trying to get a rise out of him. “You’re serious?” he questions.
I nod my head and release a deep breath. His anger seems to dissipate in front of my eyes.
“This is ridiculous. You’re taking this too far. I mean, I know I’ve made some mistakes, but I also know you love me. Can’t you just let this go? Haven’t you punished me enough?”
I stare into his concerned expression and try to understand his motivation for trying to stay together.
For a moment, I consider he might love me.
Then I remember all the years of fighting and sadness.
How many times can you try to fix something before you admit it just won’t work?
“Mike, we’re broken. I understand wanting to try to put us back together, but it just can’t be done.
There are just too many pieces that don’t fit together anymore. ”
“You’re what’s broken. It’s always been you. I’m willing to try, but you just want to throw it all away.”
From what I know, he’s been praying to get away from me for years, and now, when I’m ready to set him free, he suddenly wants to give us another shot?
Before having this conversation, I mentally prepared myself for the mood swings, mind games, and mental abuse he might use as weapons to control me.
I know him, and I’m familiar with his arsenal.
Something changed when I lost her and when I heard the truth.
I’m oddly calm and prepared. I’ve been in denial for years about our marriage.
It’s time he stops lying to me and I stop lying to myself.
“Mike, just stop fighting this. You’ve been pretending with me for so many years that you don’t know how to stop. Was I angry with you for the lies? Yes. Am I still angry? Maybe. But right now I don’t want to fight. I just want to move forward.”
“How can you do this to the kids?”
I sigh.
“Don’t you know what this will do to them? Can’t you think about someone besides yourself for once in your life?”
Classic. I remind myself he’s pulling at straws.
He’s trying to guilt me into second-guessing my decision.
“I am thinking about what’s best for the kids.
We’re barely together as it is, and when we are, we fight in front of them.
I want them to have healthy, satisfying, loving relationships someday.
They will live what they learn. All we’ve managed to teach them is how to fight. ”
“You’re so full of shit!” he yells in my face as he stands and walks the length of the room. “You’re a shitty mother and I’m going to take them away from you.”
I take a deep, steadying breath. I’m thankful that Gwen role-played this out with me beforehand.
The practice is keeping me sane. “Mike, I know you’re really angry and upset.
I understand. It’s what you do. You say horrible things you don’t mean and then you regret it later.
I know you love the kids. I’d never keep them from you.
Never. They love you and they need you. Just like they love and need me. ”
Mike clears his throat and shoots me a glare of disgust. He begins to speak then stops himself, pacing once more.
I continue. “You can try to tell me you were in this for love, but I know the facts. Your mother slipped up and confirmed to me that they did give you an ultimatum. You did tell me the truth that day, and honestly, it was about time.”
Mike’s eyes bulge and he fumbles for words.
“Don’t be angry with her. I’m not. She’s your mom. She just wants what’s best for you. I’m not going to lie. It hurt. It still hurts, but I won’t let it destroy me. Not anymore.”
Mike sits on the edge of the coffee table and reaches tentatively for my hands. I let him. “I do love you, Everly. I know I haven’t been the best husband, and I know I’ve said some awful things to you, but I will always love you.”
I try my best not to get emotional, but those unexpected words cut me to the core. I still love him. I hate him, but I also love him. This is so hard.
He lifts my chin and stares into my eyes.
I know he can see how emotional I am, and I think I see a glimmer of sadness in him as well.
I want to believe he loved me. That everything wasn’t a lie.
He leans forward and lightly presses his lips to mine.
I close my eyes and try to remember a time when his kiss made me feel happy, loved, and wanted.
Right now his kiss is simply a kiss goodbye.
He tries to deepen the kiss, and I pull back. I will never let him have any part of me again. I shake my head no.
“Let me show you how I feel, baby. Let me make love to you.”
“I can’t,” I respond. “I could easily say it’s only medical, but it’s more than that, Mike. You and I both know it. Sex solves nothing between us. That ship has sailed, and the sooner we both let it go, the sooner we can both move on.”
Our conversation continues for several hours with more yelling and blaming before understanding and tears. At the end, we somehow manage to agree that the kids need to come first, and that we can part amicably, as the friends we used to be.
After he leaves, the pain I feel is unbearable.
I tell myself it’s for the best, but it really hurts.
I feel more afraid than I’ve ever been before.
Even more than when I first found out I was pregnant.
I thought I’d feel better, but right now I don’t, and I start to second-guess myself and my decisions.
He said he loved me. Does he? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?
IT’S BEEN TWO nights since we agreed to file for divorce.
I wait as patiently as possible for him to come home, back to what used to be our home.
We’re supposed to tell the kids together.
Instead of us all talking, I end up putting them to bed when he never shows up.
Inside, I’m grateful I didn’t mention he was coming so that I don’t have to explain his absence.
I make lunches and wonder where he is this time. He knew it was an important night.
Why would he do this?
I decide to go to bed. I set Mike up in the guest room. We agreed he could come back to ease the transition for the kids and to help prepare the house for sale. But for some reason, he blew me off. I remind myself that he hasn’t shown up for most of the marriage and that I shouldn’t be surprised.
At midnight, I hear the garage door. I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’ve been tossing and turning for over an hour. He knows he’s supposed to sleep in the guest room. We discussed it, but as he stumbles up the stairs and into my room, it becomes clear he needs a reminder.
“Hey, baby. You waitin’ for me?” he slurs.
I sit up and turn on the light. I can see he’s drunk and I shake my head. “You’re in the guest room, Mike,” I say, pointing my finger next door. “Remember?”
“You weren’t serious, were you?”
“Yes, I’m dead serious.”
“Aw, baby, let’s just make love and forget this. What do you say?” He half saunters, half stumbles toward me and falls into my chest. I push him up and away. He’s heavy when he’s drunk.
I feel his mouth on me and his hand trying to lift my shirt.
“No, Mike! Stop.” I push him back and he smiles at me, lunging toward my face.
Something snaps inside me. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s frustration, or maybe it’s just the final straw.
He continues to lean into me, and as soon as I push hard enough to get him off of me but still within my reach, I slap him in the face.
He grabs his cheek in shock. He lifts himself off the bed and stumbles backwards, trying to regain control when he backs into the dresser.
“Whoa! Bitch! I didn’t want you anyway. You were a lousy lay.”
I shake my head and purse my lips as he stumbles his way to the guest room. I hear him moan as he falls into bed.
Although I feel the tears threaten as I replay his hurtful words in my head, I’m comforted in knowing that leaving him is the right thing to do. I won’t let him hurt me anymore.