"He forgot to get food for lunches, forgot my permission slips for school trips, never bothered to learn my schedules and was late to everything," Zara continued, sounding even more upset. My fingers tightened on the flowers as my body called out to comfort her.
"I went back to you because things were easier, but I didn't think about it too deeply until now. Dad didn't step up as a single parent because he never stepped up when he was a married one. Not really, not when it counted."
"Surely that's not how you feel about James?"
My eyes widened as my heart dropped to my stomach. Did she just say...?
... that's not how you feel about James.
Were they...were they talking about me? No. It couldn't be. Zara couldn't be this upset over yesterday's dinner?
"It is," Zara confirmed as the flowers I held fell from my hand. "Don't get me wrong, he's a real fun dad to the girls, but he's totally useless and clueless as a husband."
The blood drained from my face, and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. Repeatedly. But Zara wasn't done.
"Like, when he goes out with his friends," she continued. "He never texts or calls me if he's going to be late. When he wants to stay back after work for a drink or two, he just expects me to read his mind and be okay with it. He doesn't bother to check our shared calendar to see if we have something on, and I have to remind him all the time—he just brushes it off! This Valentine's dinner is the last straw." She paused as Bron murmured a few words of encouragement. I couldn't hear her over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
"That's when I realised that this is probably how you felt being married to Dad."
Black dots started to enter my vision, and I had to hold onto the wall to keep my knees from buckling. Zara wasn't happy in our marriage. Zara was comparing me to her deadbeat dad. Holy shit.
Bron's quiet sigh came through the speaker. "I knew you were mad at me for leaving your father. And you were right, I was sick of being the default parent and feeling like I was a single parentall the time. Your father had old ideologies and refused to accept that being a stay-at-home mum, being a homemaker, was just as hard as what he did all day…except I never got any breaks." She paused, and I heard the sound of tissue being ripped from the box. A few quiet sniffles came from my wife before Bron continued.
"I love being a mum to you and your brother, but I was just so tired all the time. So unhappy, and that started to affect my mental health and how I responded as a mother. In the end, I did what I knew was best for me, and for you kids. I hoped one day you would understand, but I also hoped that you wouldn't."
I swallowed hard as the impact of her words hit me. She hoped Zara wouldn't understand, because that would mean she would be married to a useless husband like her father.
"I don't know what to do."
"Do you still love James?"
My breath held, my body frozen in dread for her response.
"Yes." My throat collapsed in relief.
But then she said, "I mean, I guess I do." And my heart fell to pieces all over again. What the hell did that mean?
"Sometimes it's hard to remember exactly why. And I feel terrible because so many other women have it worse –"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should put up with a situation that no longer makes you happy." What the fuck? Why was Bronwyn encouraging Zara? I thought she loved me like a son.
"I'm not. I'm not happy. And it's affecting the kids because I'm starting to become impatient with them because I'm constantly tired and frustrated, and so annoyed at James. Shoot, I have to get the girls soon."
That kick started my heart into motion, and I swiftly picked the flowers back up from the floor. I tiptoed quickly back to the front door before I stared down at the flowers in my hand. I winced at the sad quality of them. They were drooping andslightly brown. Petrol station flowers. That was all I thought Zara was worth. Ten bucks for almost dead flowers.
I'm not. I'm not happy.
I cleared my throat and called out in a voice that held the barest quiver. "Zara? I'm home."
I walked loudly down the hall just as Zara came out to meet me. Her tablet was still in her hand, and she wouldn't meet my eyes. I searched her face, desperate to see any sign of affection, but all I saw were pale cheeks and a red nose.
"Hey. Are you okay?" She asked, her voice flat.
My brows drew in, and I bent my knees to try to catch her gaze. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you never announce that you're home like that."
"Oh." I rubbed the back of my neck as a desperate awkwardness seeped into the air. "Well. I didn't want to scare you since I'm home early."
