May's Workshop Stories

The End

Seeing him again after everything that has happened between us broke my heart yet again. After all, he was the one person I chose to trust, the father of my children, and he decided to betray me in the worst possible way.

"Marlin, we need to talk about this. Things can't go on like this. You are acting unreasonably," Roger said.

"And how am I supposed to act? You lied to me. You cheated on me. And as if that wasn't enough, for the last two years, you treated me like trash, even worse like your punching bag," I said, all the pent-up emotions threatening to explode.

"I never hit you! Don't you go around spurting lies!" he yelled, coming closer to me, too close.

I flinch although what he said about never hitting me was true. It still seemed like he was always on the edge of doing that. It felt as if my smallest transgression would cause him to not only hit me but erase me from existence. That constant state of fear was excruciating. It made every day of my life a living hell.

Because who knew what could set him off and if he would be able to stop himself on time, having in mind how much rage he had in him.

"You don't get it, Roger, do you? Sometimes words leave the deepest wounds in our hearts! Even though you never used physical violence, you did use me as an emotional punching bag," I said, brushing my hair to the side to look him in the eyes. "Whenever you were having some problems, whenever you didn't feel good about yourself or your life, you vented out all your frustrations on me."

"That's not true!" he shouted, although I could feel uncertainty in his voice.

He was finally hearing the truth that I should have confronted him with years ago, but I was too terrified to do so.

We've been together for more than ten years. I knew the person he was when we first met, the kind and romantic guy. But I understood the way this person standing before me functioned as well. He was an angry, selfish guy ready to burn the whole world down to get what he wanted. He didn't care who got hurt in the process.

I could never figure out how the change between who he was and who he had become occurred. Maybe it was my fault, perhaps it was his, but it didn't matter since the next step was clear; divorce.

"Isn't it? For more than two years, all I heard from you was yelling, criticizing, humiliating," I say, trying to stand firm although I was on the verge of breaking down in tears. "I could have turned a blind eye on that, on your flings, on almost everything. But treating your own children like they are not even there, like they are a nuisance, that I can't forgive."

For the first time in our constant arguments, he stayed quiet. He was seething with anger, but he knew that what I was telling him was the truth.

"And now you want to take away my children?" I asked, allowing all the rage I felt for this guy I once used to love, pour out. "I guess the winner takes it all. Even what he doesn't really want."

"Of course I want my children!" he said indignantly.

"No, you don't. Your new girlfriend, your mistress, does. Since she can't have her own children, she wants to take away mine," I said.

I was hit with sudden clarity about his motivations. I couldn't understand why he would ask for the full custody of our three small children, but at that moment, everything made sense. He didn't care about taking care of his own children. He cared about taking care of Margaret's needs.

"You only want them as your heirs, someone to carry on your family name, someone to fulfill your expectations. She is the one who needs them to feel fulfilled as a woman."

"That's not true! I am an amazing father!" he screamed in my face, but I think he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

"Okay then, when was the last time you spoke with our daughter? When was the last time you truly listened to what Daisy had to say, her hopes and dreams?" I asked, trying to make him see the truth of how he behaved.

"I always spend time with Ian. We play games, go to places together. We spend quality father-son time," he said.

"Yes, that's true. But did you ever ask Ian if he wanted to go, or did you just tell him? Also, did you forget that we have two more children besides Ian? What about Daisy and Sandy?" I asked.

"They are girls. I don't know what to do with them," he grudgingly admits.

"How about being there for them?" I ask.

He ignores my comments and continues stubbornly with his own line of reasoning, with what he needs, never even considering what was best for the children.

Looking at him wildly gesticulating with his hands, I couldn't help but remember all the times I was in his arms, feeling safe. We were building a life together, a home. When did it all go so wrong?

I did my best to play by the rules, to be the housewife that his patriarchal education needed me to be. And all that ended up doing was making me a fool. It made me a cheated wife and a broken human being. The fact that he wanted to take away my children, as well, was the last straw.

The worst thing about it all was that I still missed him. Not this coldblooded person he had become but the loving guy he used to be. What's worse, he probably knew I missed him and was using that to his advantage. He was trying to manipulate me into giving up the last thing that's keeping me alive, our children.

"You must see that I can give them a much better life than you ever could," his words pierced my mind like a sharp knife.

"Yes, you can give them all the material things, but I can give them all the love in the world," I said, trying to reach the goodness in his heart (if there was any left). "Wasn't that exactly what your mother did? She raised you in poverty but showered you with all the love she had. Wasn't that enough?"

Something flickered in his eyes for a second, but before I could figure out what it was, it was extinguished by the cold façade that I've been watching for the last few years.

"That's beside the point. Leave my mother out of this. I want my children," he growls at me.

"Then we'll let the judges decide," I say, with confidence that I don't have.

Chances of them deciding in his favor were much higher than I wanted to admit, but the fight was all I had left, and I wasn't going down without giving it all I had.

It's clear that he wanted me to shake his hand and make a deal, he needed to look like a better person in front of everyone, but it's too late for that.

"I guess they will," he said with contempt.

As Roger was leaving, he gave me such a look that I felt like he could see right through me, that he realized that I had no confidence, that it was all pretense I worked hard to create. The winner takes it all, and I guess he took even my dignity with him.

Even with nothing left and everything to lose, I was still waiting to throw the dice as I've played all my cards already, and there was nothing more for me to do but wait. I had to wait and see what gods had in store for me and whether my life would end or I'd be granted a reprieve in the form of my children.