That bag costs $15,000. I didn’t want to push
- it. My life is worth that much to him, I guess.
Any more, and he’d ignore me.
I pick up the kids from school. Looking at my
<
son and daughter, they’re the reason I’ve
endured these past two years. I can handle
anything for them.
There’s a knock at the door. The bag has
arrived. So convenient these days. One phone
call and it’s at your doorstep.
I don’t hesitate. I call the resale shop. Brand
new, still warm from the store, they offer me
$14,700. I transfer the money to my mom’s
account.
I don’t ask why Mark didn’t come home.
Complaining would make me seem
unreasonable, disrespectful of the money.
I play with the kids for a while. My daughter
asks if Daddy is coming home.
<
I say, Daday s very busy. All the money we
spend is because Daddy works so hard. So
we have to understand that he might not
always be home for dinner. He might miss
some of your growing up. But I promise,
Mommy will always be here. Always.”
Before bed, I send him a text. “Goodnight,
honey.”
Wherever you are, whoever you’re with, sleep
tight. Your whole family depends on you.
2
Mark sends me a video. He’s lying in a
woman’s arms, eyes closed, cheeks flushed.
The woman’s face isn’t visible, but I know it’s
Tiffany. Everyone calls her Tiffany. I call her
“the other woman.”
<
The first time I found out about the affair was
when she sent me a video of them kissing. I
still don’t understand how you can kiss
someone and film it at the same time.
Doesn’t it ruin the mood?
I admit, she’s beautiful. Long legs, high
cheekbones, a sharp chin, big eyes, full lips.
Prettier than any doll I played with as a child.
The first time we met, she looked at me with
pure hostility. I knew then that something was
going on between her and Mark. That’s why
she dared to confront me.
I asked Mark if he could fire her. He looked at
me like I was crazy. “What are you talking about? She hasn’t done anything wrong. I’d
sooner fire you than her.”
<
Maybe she knew I couldn’t stand her. That
night, she sent a picture of their hands intertwined. Mark didn’t come home.
After that, the pictures and videos became almost daily. Mark was spending more time
with her than with me, his wife.
I tried the crying, the yelling, the threats. Mark looked at me with disgust, stripping me of my
dignity.
“Look at yourself,” he’d sneer. “What have
you become?”
What I had become was thanks to him.
Ten years of marriage, and all I get is “look at
yourself.” Any woman with an ounce of self-
respect would have left him a hundred times
<
But I didn’t have that ounce.
I devoured reruns of “The First Wives Club.” | saw myself in those women, fighting for their lives after being discarded. But I didn’t have a support system like they did. No one to help me get back on my feet.
Divorce would leave me with next to nothing. I wouldn’t even get custody of my kids.
My fantasies of revenge were rich and detailed, but reality was bleak and bare.
I gave in. I promised to be a good wife and mother, to take care of his parents, to stay
out of his life. Because he’d slapped a
divorce agreement in front of me. It stated
that because I hadn’t worked in ten years, I
had no claim to his wealth. The paltry sum he
く
offered was a “gift,” not my rightful share.
