Natalia isn’t even wrong in demanding I give her a reason. When I told her eight months ago, once Briar graduated from high school and Tabby was in her last year, that I wanted a divorce, Natalia, of course, went off the deep end.
Shocked. Ridiculously so, I might add. She sobbed. Then she turned irate, and accusations flew. That’s where we are right now. Still. Almost three-quarters of a year later.
I waited for her to make demands and file for a divorce. I wanted her to ask for what she wanted. It was made clear some time ago that she had no intention of doing so. As if ignoring it would make me forget I mentioned wanting a divorce.
Her fury only increased after I served her with divorce papers two months ago. So here we are, in this endless cycle of her calling me and demanding that she keep the house. The house, which I paid for, mind you. I don’t care, though. I haven’t truly lived there in years. So I agreed. Called my lawyer and had him adjust the paperwork.
I agreed to maintenance money for the next three years—AKA alimony. Of course, this just sent her off the deep end again,insisting that I waited until the kids graduated from high school before filing so I didn’t have to pay child support.
That wasn’t consciously the reason behind the decision. If anything, I waited for them to graduate so I wouldn’t disrupt their focus on their studies. In fact, I don’t think I even truly considered a divorce until a year ago.
I’m not entirely sure why Natalia is so upset. We can go an entire month without talking. No phone calls. No emails. No texts. Not even a random tag on social media. We’re essentially strangers. I can’t even say we’re nothing better than roommates because I haven’t lived in that house since Tabby was a toddler.
Apparently, Natalia enjoyed being the wife of an absent husband. Maybe this is her idea of an ideal marriage. I don’t know. I’ve yet to hear an actual reason behind her endless anger.
A light knock on my door makes me look up. I’d been pinching the bridge of my nose. Natalia’s voice has reached a register that’s giving me a headache. Sighing, I drop my hand and meet Byndley’s eyes as she peeks into the room.
I wave her in. Her presence is reason enough to end this call. “Natalia, I need to go.”
“Oh, your girlfriend show up? No more time foryour wife?”
“No. I need to go because it’s two o’clock on a Thursday and I’m at work. I’ll speak to you later.”
She doesn’t answer. The line goes dead, and I sigh.
Byndley gives me a sympathetic smile. “Still angry, huh?”
“Endlessly. I don’t understand where it’s all coming from and what she’s using to keep it fueled. Wouldyouhave been surprised?”
Byndley has worked for me since I was hired at Rainbow Dorset University as the public relations manager almost twenty years ago. She was my secretary then. I’ve kept her at my side as I moved up within the school, and now she’s my personal assistant.
She’s also my best friend. It’s difficult to work with someone for twenty years andnotestablish a relationship of some kind. We’ve seen each other through everything; witnessed all the triumphs and supported through all the defeats.
“Honestly,” Byndley says as she leans against the side of my desk. “I’m with you on this. Maybe I’m biased, but I can’t imagine someone harboring this much animosity that it’s still burning like a damn sun eight months later. It’s wild to me.”
I shake my head. “I get it. I screwed up. I was an absent husband and father. There have been a million times over the last fifteen years that I should have done any number of things differently. Do you know how long it’d been since Natalia and I had even communicated before I told her I wanted a divorce?”
“I’m guessing several weeks.”
“Almost seven months, Byn. Months, not weeks. Seven months! I hadn’t talked to mywifeinseven months! And she’s somehow devastated. You can’t tell me that her anger stems solely from hurt and her love for me. I don’t believe that for a second. I’m not even sure about the last time either of us said I love you.”
Byndley shakes her head. “I don’t know what to say. I wish I had an answer to offer you.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “No. It’s fine. Really. I’m always a little frazzled when I get off the phone with her these days.”
“Shocking, since she only screams at you,” Byndley muses.
I grunt in acknowledgement. That’s true enough.
“Have you talked to your kids?”
And there’s the part that’s difficult. I’m not close to my kids, though not because I don’t want to be. I’ve tried to get them up here to visit me a lot over the last fifteen years, but they haven’t been all that interested. I talk to them as often as I can, though admittedly, I’ve stopped calling them weekly since they never wanted to talk.
Every question I asked was met with something vague and radiating disinterest.Yep. Good. I don’t know.Those were the most common answers. I’d once tallied my call with Seth, and I received eight I don’t knows, three goods, and a dozen yeps. Only three other words were said by him: hi, Dad, and bye.
This is the part that’s bothered me most. While I try not to put any of my thoughts and feelings into words or give them much space in my mind, I have to wonder what Natalia was saying at home. She had to have been, right?
Or was it truly just my absence in their lives that made them uninterested in me?
