Chapter 30
Julia
This is really happening. I’m really going to leave Richard.
I haven’t even had the talk with him yet, and I already feel so free.
He’s due home late tonight, and I’m not scrambling to make the house look a certain way.
I’m not fixing him a Thanksgiving plate to put in the fridge.
I’m not worried about the kitchen smelling like kimchi or whether my shoes are all lined up perfectly in the entryway closet, because none of my stuff is here, anyway.
It’s all in storage, barring the few things I moved over to Heidi and Nicole’s.
I’m glad I don’t have to worry about pleasing him anymore, but I’m sad, too.
I know Richard will kick me out of the house the second I tell him I’m leaving, and he’s allowed to do it.
That’s in our prenup because the house is part of his family trust. I have a copy of it on the dining room table, along with a set of dissolution-of-marriage forms that I printed off the state website and already partially filled out.
While I wait for his plane to land, I walk around the house, saying goodbye.
Goodbye to the stairs that my girls walked down when their prom dates arrived.
Goodbye to the bar in the kitchen where they ate breakfast every morning and the hearth where they built their LEGO masterpieces.
Goodbye to their rooms where they’ll probably never sleep again.
Goodbye to the bathroom tile I picked out.
Goodbye to the awesome closet organizer I designed.
Goodbye to the wedding ring that I twist off my finger and leave in the dish by the sink.
“Is he there yet?” Ian texts from his family’s gathering at his folks’ house across town. I ate over at Heidi and Nicole’s earlier. This is usually one of my favorite holidays, although I could barely choke down a few bites.
“Not yet. His plane lands soon, though.”
“Tell me when he gets there. Do you have your button?”
I hit the thumbs-up emoji even though the emergency button is in my purse with my keys. Ian’s worried about Richard’s reaction, but I know my husband. He doesn’t blow up at people. He ices them out. But that’s hardly punishment, given how cold he’s been to me for years.
I didn’t even know how cold until Ian brought his warmth into my life.
I smile in spite of myself at the memory of sleeping in his arms. Waking up with my face in his furry mane.
I’m a cuddler. I’ve always been a cuddler.
I’ve been starving for cuddles, and somehow I convinced myself that it was silly to crave them.
But it’s not silly. It’s normal to want to touch your husband. I hate that my daughters grew up in a household where they didn’t see that kind of casual affection. When they find partners, I hope they don’t follow my example. I want them to be loved in all the ways they need.
I haven’t told them about the split yet. I waited so Richard and I could talk to them together as a united front, like we always have. I hope they aren’t too angry with me for not being able to stick it out. That’s what is twisting my stomach up right now, even more than the pregnancy nausea did.
I don’t have time to dwell too much on it, though, because I hear a vehicle pull into the driveway and the low timbre of male voices as Richard gets out and exchanges niceties with the driver from his car service.
I wait at the table with the paperwork in front of me, knees pressed together, hands resting on them. I can play the cool beauty, the wife he expects, for five more minutes.
I hear him enter, stow his coat and shoes. I listen as he rolls his suitcase to the master bedroom, where he unpacks, hanging his suits and slotting his shoes into the rack. Will he get ready for bed now, or will he come find me?
“Are you all right?” Ian’s text buzzes the phone on the table, startling me.
“Fine,” I reply with numb fingers. “He’s here.”
“Julia!” Richard barks, striding into the dining room. “There you are. Why is the picture of the flower gone from the hall?”
“You never liked it, so I took it down.” In fact, he’d complained when I hung it up, calling it unsophisticated.
Samantha painted it for me for my birthday when she was in sixth grade.
I moved it to storage with a lot of other sentimental things, the only things I really own.
All the furniture will stay with the house.
“Well, you left a hole in the wall.”
Right, a hole. A miniscule nail hole from the picture hook.
“Richard, why don’t you sit with me for a minute? I have something I want to talk about.”
His jaw muscle tenses. “Really? At ten o’clock at night, after I’ve been traveling all day? That’s your idea of a good time to talk?”
“Yes.” My attempt at cool beauty is over, because I can feel the angry redness already crawling up my neck.
“Christ,” he swears, and sits. That’s when he sees the paperwork. He picks up the prenup, glances at it, and tosses it back down with a sigh. “What is it now?”
“I think it’s time for us to be honest about our marriage and what it is. What it’s not.”
“What are you talking about?” He’s barely listening to me.
I barrel on. “We’d both be happier if we admitted it’s over. I printed out the forms we need to file a joint petition. It’ll be easier and faster that way.”
He’s listening now, his eyes narrow and expression dark. “You won’t get the house.”
“I know.”
“You won’t get anything.”
I force myself to breathe in a normal pattern.
“I’m well aware. There’s no reason to fight about it.
We can file this form, divide assets according to the prenup, and be done in a matter of months.
I thought we might want to tell the girls together, too.
It’s the afternoon there, so it’s a good time to call if you want to do it now. ”
“Oh, I’ll be sure to inform them of your actions,” he spits, pushing back from the table and standing so he can loom over me. “If you don’t want to be part of this family, there’s no reason for you to speak with them ever again.”
My heartrate picks up. He’s angrier than I expected. I know it’s not because he’ll miss me, but I must have caught him off-guard.
“You have a right to be upset, but you can’t cut me off from my own children. They’re adults now. Please, Richard, this will be easier for everyone if we can work together and stay civil.”
“You should have thought of that before you decided to destroy our family. If you so much as text-message my daughters with your dog-fucking fingers, I will stop the payment on their tuition. Do you understand me?” His voice is shaking, and his face is so close to mine that I can smell the wintergreen mints mixed with airplane scotch on his breath.
The scent turns my stomach, so I tilt my face away. He grabs my jaw and twists it back toward him, his fingertips digging painfully into my cheeks. “I asked you a question.”
This isn’t the time to reason with him. He’s one millisecond from losing it completely. I really, really wish I had that button in my hand right, because I would press it. I can barely get words out. “I understand.”
He releases me. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“What about the paperwork—” I begin, but he cuts me off by slamming his hand down on the table.
“Out.”
I get the fuck out. I don’t even stop for shoes and a jacket. I just grab my purse and go, barefoot and braless, into the November night.
I think I cry on Nicole and Heidi’s shoulders for an hour. “Why was he so mean?” I sniffle once I can get the words out.
“Like I’ve been telling you, he’s a dick,” Nicole says grimly. “I hate that motherfucker.”
“But why would he threaten to cut off the girls like that?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand. He wants them to go to college. He wants them to be successful.”
“It’s not about them. He wants to punish you, and he knows that there’s nothing you love more in the world than your children,” Heidi says gently. “He can take everything else away from you, and you’ll be okay. But if he takes them away from you…you won’t be. He’s willing to hurt them to hurt you.”
“Because he’s a DICK,” Nicole adds.
That sends me into a new bout of noisy sobs. “What am I going to do? I can’t live without them.”
“Let’s go egg his house,” Nicole suggests. I can tell she’s trying to make me laugh and lighten the mood.
“No.” Heidi eyes her wife sternly. “What you’re going to do is hire a great lawyer.”
“With what money?” I ask weakly. “It’s all his.”
“He’s required to provide for you while you’re still married.
Frankly, it’s illegal for him to kick you out until after the divorce, but it’s not like you want to stay in that house with him, anyway.
He’s going to cool off and realize it benefits him to get this over with at the least expense.
” She’s so calm and matter-of-fact, I start to believe her.
“I think your baby daddy is here,” Nicole says, looking up from her phone. She flips it around so I can see the security system notification with a live video of an agitated-looking Ian on the porch. The doorbell rings a half-second later.
“You might as well answer that. He’s not here for me,” Heidi says dryly. I scrub my tears away and push up from the couch. Behind me, I hear her add to Nicole, “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of him while she’s staying here.”
“Thank gods you’re all right,” Ian says when I answer the door. Then he takes in my puffy eyes and red nose and folds me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. “Oh, sweetheart. I called and called, and when you didn’t answer, I was worried that the worst had happened.”
“It did,” I hiccup against his solid, comforting mass. “He’s going to cut off the girls’ tuition if I talk to them at all. I can’t afford it without him, and I don’t want them to lose their chance at an education. But I also don’t want them to lose their m-m-mom.”
“I know, baby,” he says soothingly. “I’m not going to let that happen. We’ll figure it out.”