My husband decided he needed a breakhe told me he was exhausted by our family and our relationship. While he was off finding himself, I ended up finding myself for the first time in years. He didnt call me, not once. He never asked if our son and I had food to eat, or even cared whether there was enough to pay the bills, at least for the last month he’d still lived with us. There was nothing from him but silence.
Im tired of you, Im tired of the family, I just want to live on my own for a while and figure myself out, he threw the words at me like stones. Youre boring now. I havent been alone in so longIm taking a break.
Wed been married for ten years, both thirty-five, with a little boy whod just turned three. Six long years we tried for a childdoctors appointments, treatments, counting days, clinging to hope. When the pregnancy test finally showed two faint blue lines, my husband wept for joy on the kitchen floor. The day I came home from hospital, you couldn’t see a spare inch in the bedroom for all the bunches of flowers.
And now, suddenly, he was tired.
He packed his bags briskly, barely glancing at our son clinging to his knees. He only stopped to pour himself a quick whisky in the kitchen every so oftenthe drink seemed to lend him courage. He left, and I stayed behind.
No one was going to kick us out, at leastthe flat had been left to me by my aunt, so the roof over our heads was safe.
He must have found someone else, my friend Linda insisted, All this too tired of the family nonsense. The poor soul, its so hard for him with a child. Typical mandont just sit around, put in for child support! Otherwise what are you going to live on while hes out there discovering himself?
I really had nothing to live on. At his suggestion, Id given up my job when our son was only eighteen months old. We waited so long for our lad, hed said, he doesnt belong in a nursery. Stay home and raise himIll look after you both. So I did. I filled our house with warmth, supported his interests, devoted myself utterly to our son and husband. He earned well enoughI could get what I needed, and he never fussed over how I spent it.
So, a week after he left, I went to the solicitor to start a claim for support. At home, I was frantically scouring job ads. By pure luck, my old workplace had just had a retirementIf you can start tomorrow, the jobs yours! the manager said. The only snag was a place at nurseryI hadn’t even started the queue. My mum offered to help.
Bring him round to ours, she said. Itll be tough, I wont lie, running after a little tot at my age, but what else can we do? Just help out a little with grocery money.
Fair enoughher pension didnt stretch far. I borrowed some from Linda, toowe needed to eat, and I had to get to work. My husband didnt call. Not once. Nothing but silence.
I found out the truth myself. Our break meant a pretty brunette of about twenty-five, slim and tall. I saw them together at a café near my workplace. He probably never imagined Id be back in that part of town. I snapped a picture of the lovebirds and carried on my way.
My life started coming together.
I discovered that I was happier without him. The house was calmer, cleaner. I no longer had to cook food he liked (which I hated) or pick up after his mess. No more discarded socks or a mucky bathroom. And somewhere in the silence, I realised I was a completely different person from the one Id been in marriage. Turns out, I actually prefer watching the rugby to the football. That perfume on my dressing tablehis favouritemakes my stomach turn. I detest the mousy brown hair colour he always liked. I looked so much better with a pixie cut. Trainers actually look great with a dress, and that nude lipstick was never my style.
Had I really lost myself over all these years, dissolving into my husband? Bit by bit, I started piecing myself back together. When I started work again, it wasnt long before I got a promotion and a bump in pay. I traded in my dreary skirts for jeans and sharp suits, and painted the walls the colours I loved, not the ones he’d chosen. And then, I filed for divorce.
In eight months, my husband hadnt even picked up the phone. Two days before the court hearing, though, he turned uparms full of flowers and a hamper of fruit.
Ive thought it over, sorted myself out. Im ready to come back, he said, frowning at the hallway. What a ridiculous colour for the walls. Why did you cut your hair? It looks dreadful.
Ive sorted myself out too, I answered. That ridiculous colour is my favourite. I love my new hair. By the way, whats your girlfriends name? Did she dump you? I showed him the photo on my phone. I dont want you back. Ive done my thinking too, and I know now: Im happier without you.
He tried saying I was selfish, that I wasnt thinking of our son growing up without a father. That nobody would want me now, nearly forty, with a child.
Ive thought about our son every single day for the last eight months, I told him. Ive worried about what hed eat, whod look after him when I was working. And yes, I am selfish, and you know whatit feels wonderful. Youre wrong about nobody wanting meI want me. Id forgotten myself for almost a decade.
I shut the door after him and felt no regrets whatsoever. I was firm on the divorce. In real relationships, there arent breaksnot if the relationship is truly real. Sometimes losing someone is the only way to find yourself again.
