numbness, in less than six months. By the
time I realized Sarah was faking, it was too
late. My heart was already cold, our marriage
effectively over. But then I found out I was
pregnant. I thought maybe a baby would change things, that Mark would come to his
senses.
The reality was cruelly ironic. He didn’t care
about me, so why would he care about the
baby? Now the baby was gone. Was he
satisfied?
Mark’s eyes narrowed. He shot up from the
sofa. “Wendy, do you know what you’re
saying?”
I heard the suppressed fury, but I didn’t flinch.
“Does it bother you to hear the truth about
your precious Sarah? Are you afraid my
<
words will somehow make her worse? If she’s
so important to you, why are you even with
me? Let’s get a divorce. You’ll be free.”
From school uniforms to a wedding dress
six years, wasted. Six years of me backing
down, apologizing. No more.
Mark’s control snapped. He slapped me, hard.
I covered my face, recoiling from his
outstretched hand. My eyes burned with
hatred and disgust.
He looked lost, bewildered. “Wendy, I… I
didn’t mean to…‘
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm. He
fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a jade
bracelet. “Wendy, I know how much you
always wanted my family’s jade bracelet. I
<
brought it. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. A
bigger wedding, I swear. You won’t have to endure anything like this again. Sarah’s just
sick. When she gets better, I’ll leave her.
Just… bear with me. For me.”
The bracelet was a joke. He was so lost
between Sarah and me, he didn’t even know
me anymore. I never wanted the bracelet. I
wanted the ring he promised he’d find the
one we’d made from candy wrappers in
–
college. Sarah had taken it, burned it, thrown
it away
who knew?
The slap stung, but I kept smiling. “And what
about next time? When she has another
‘episode‘? Will you just let her die?”
“It won’t happen again. I won’t let her ruin our
wedding again.”
“Answer the question, Mark.”
“Wendy, why are you being like this? You
know she’s sick!”
“I understand. This is it. Divorce.” I couldn’t
listen anymore. I was afraid my smile would
crack.
He stared at me, incredulous. “Divorce,
divorce, divorce! Wendy, I’m trying to give you
a way out of this, and all you can say is
divorce! I’ve had enough! Let me tell you
something: divorce is not happening! Even if
you don’t care about the baby, I do! My child
will not grow up without a father!”
The word “baby” twisted a knife in my gut. I
turned to leave again, but he was quicker. He
I knew he was trying to compose himself. The
old me would have fetched him water,
apologized, and we would have reconciled.
Not anymore.
I walked out into the night, letting the cool air
wash over me. As I walked, I remembered the
first time I’d met Mark. It had been on a night
like this. My mom and I were running from
debt collectors, my shoes lost, my feet
bleeding. We couldn’t stop, not even for a
moment. If we did, they would catch us.
We ran into Mark, literally. He was riding his
bike home. He saw us, didn’t hesitate, and
charged at the debt collectors with a brick.
The collectors were arrested, and Mark got
suspended from school for excessive force.
That’s how I found out we were in the same
grade.
L
I felt guilty. Mark, playing the “injured party,”
let me take care of him. He even secretly
helped my mom pay off our debts. I
remembered the nurses teasing us, calling me
his girlfriend, the way he’d blush and deny it.
He was so good to us that my mom felt we
could never repay him. “Wendy,” she’d said,
“you can never let Mark down. We owe him
everything.”
Six years. I thought I’d repaid him enough.
Mom, I can’t do this anymore.
If it weren’t for Sarah, everything would have
been perfect.
I found myself standing outside a cheap
motel, barefoot again, just like that night
years ago.
<
The next day, I bought new clothes and
shoes, found an apartment, and handed in my
notice at work. I had to wait a month for it to
be processed.
For two weeks, Mark didn’t contact me. I
assumed he was with Sarah.
He finally reappeared at the company’s mid-
year conference. After the meeting, we had
dinner at the hotel. The atmosphere was thick
with tension. Colleagues kept glancing at me,
then at Mark. Many of them had been at our
wedding, had given us gifts. They knew what
had happened. They knew about the baby.
Mark acted as if I didn’t exist.
When everyone raised their glasses to toast
the company’s success, I picked up my wine
L
glass. He hated it when I drank. I hadn’t
touched alcohol since we’d gotten together.
