5 years of me writing checks for a mortgage that didn’t exist. And I never questioned it. She handled all the finances. Said it was easier that way. I was so busy with work, so tired when I came home.
I just trusted her. What will you do now? He looked around the room again at the photos of his childhood, at the comfortable furniture that invited relaxation instead of demanding perfection. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that for 3 days straight, and I honestly don’t know. What do you want to do? The question seemed to surprise him. What do I want? Yes. Not what you should do, not what’s expected of you, not what will cause the least conflict. What do you want? He was quiet again, thinking. Outside, I could hear Mrs.
Patterson’s dog barking at something in the yard, the normal sounds of a neighborhood settling into evening. “I want my kids to know their grandmother,” he said finally. “Really know her, not just see her on holidays when their mother remembers to be polite. I want them to learn to cook from you the way I did.
I want Emma to hear your stories about when I was little
I want Emma to hear your stories about when I was little. And I want Jake to help you in the garden next spring,” he paused, looking directly at me. And I want to remember who I was before I spent 12 years trying to be someone else’s version of a good husband. What about Rya? The question I’d been avoiding. The one that would determine everything else. Marcus stared at his hands. She’s threatening to take the kids if I don’t fight you on the house.
Says she’ll prove you’re an unfit grandmother. That you’re too old to be around children unsupervised. His voice hardened. She’s also threatening to claim I abused her. that the stress of living with you drove her to steal the money as some kind of survival mechanism. I felt a chill run through me. Do you think she’ll follow through? I think Rya will do whatever she has to do to get what she wants.
And what she wants is this house, your money, and complete control over the family narrative. He looked up at me with something that might have been resolve, but I’m not going to let her have any of those things. The simple statement carried more weight than a dozen apologies. What does that mean? Practically speaking, I asked, “It means I’m filing for divorce.
It means I’m going to fight for custody of my children, and I’m going to make sure they know the truth about what happened here. ” I studied his face, looking for signs that he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. But what I saw was determination. the same stubborn streak that had gotten him through childhood challenges and helped him build his business. “That won’t be easy,” I said. “No, it won’t. She’s already started calling my business associates, telling them I’ve had some kind of breakdown. ” He managed a weak smile.
