"Talk to me, Mrs. Adams, what is going on?' Mr. Weston asked from the other end of the call. "It's Mabel, Mr. Weston. Call me Mabel. I need those divorce papers. Are you done going through them?" I asked. Mr Weston said he was still going through, and I should give him a couple of days to finish up. I did not have days to spare. I needed those papers immediately.
"I need them as soon as possible, Mr. Weston. Can you be done by tomorrow?" I asked, hoping that I would get a positive response. "I'll see about that, Mrs. Adams. Oh sorry, Mabel, I almost forgot," he apologized. He would surely need a little more time to get used to the adjustment, so it was fine.
"If you need someone to talk to, I'm always available, Mabel," Mr. Weston offered. That was generous of him to care about what I was going through, but there was no need to tell him more about it. There was nothing he could do to ameliorate the situation except to help speed up my divorce proceedings by going through the papers I had given to him.
I thanked him for his concern and told him that I would rather not talk about it anymore. He understood and didn't push further. The call ended shortly, and I went downstairs to make something to eat. I had only eaten scrambled eyes and toast, and I was almost dying of hunger. There was no point starving myself for a man who was a street dog.
I walked past the pictures that I had thrown to pieces and stamped on them again. I arranged the groceries I had gotten earlier and fixed some vegetables and grilled chicken for dinner. I was already exhausted from everything and I needed a breath of fresh air. I needed to get out of my house, away from Michael, but I had no money for such luxury.
Staying under the same roof as he dampened my mood the more. I was grateful that of all the things I lost, I didn't lose my house, the one thing my late parents left in my name. The house was gifted to me as a wedding gift before their demise, and it was in my name, so I had every right to kick Michael out of my space but I hesitated.
I ate my dinner in peace before I heard Michael drive in. I knew he was going to create a scene when he saw the broken pictures on the floor, and I was ready for whatever he would bring. I was still seated in the dining area when he walked in. "What in heaven's name is going on here?" He thundered. I continued eating in silence, acting like I had not heard anyone speak.
Michael went off again, demanding to know why I had broken the pictures and made a mess everywhere. I kept mute, watching him rant. When he seemed to have had enough, I questioned where he had been all afternoon. Michael looked at me as if I had no right to ask him about his whereabouts. "Have you suddenly lost your voice, huh? Tell me, Mr. Adams, where have you been?" I asked, calling him by his last name.
Michael did not respond to me but only stared as I continued, "You are shameless, Michael, so shameless that you have no respect for even yourself. So your secret lover, the one that has made you go crazy and cower to your knees, begging for love like the coward that you are, is my friend? Unbelievable!" I watched his eyes widen with shock. "You're surprised that I found out?" I asked again.
This time, Michael felt defeated. His secret had been exposed, but I had just started. I never knew I had married a street dog, one that chased after every Tom, Dick, and Harry! "I pray you experience the kind of pain I've experienced all these weeks. You will come begging for forgiveness, but it will be too late, Michael," I swore.
Michael just stood still, watching me as I vented. The tables were turned. I had been quiet for most of the time since we drifted apart while he did more of the talking, but now I was the one doing the talking while he listened.
It seemed like Michael was beginning to grow soft, as if realizing his mistakes, or maybe I was mistaken after his phone began to ring. His face lightened up immediately and a smile spread across his face as he picked up the call. "Hey baby," Michael spoke to the caller. It was no longer something he hid.
I imagined how happy Tina would be now. Talking to the man who is supposed to be a husband to me and a father to our unborn child. Michael spoke to his lover for a while, before the call came to an end. He turned to me to ask if there was anything more I had to say because he was tired and would love to get some rest.
Get some rest from meeting his lover? "What would happen to our child?" I asked, waiting patiently for what he would say. Michael turned and looked at me with disgust. "Answer me. Won't you at least want to be in your child's life?"
Michael opened his mouth to answer me, but his phone began to ring again, interrupting the conversation. He picked up the call and began to ascend the stairs, going up to his room. I followed behind as I was bent on getting an answer to my question.
I heard Michael asked his caller, whom I assumed to be his mistress, if she had received a certain amount of money for her upkeep and that of their son. In all my years of being married to Michael, there was never a time he gave me money to take care of myself. I had access to our joint account, from where I would collect money to keep the house running.
I barely spent money on personal needs since Michael had advised that we reduce our spending because he wanted to get a new house, which I stupidly agreed to. He got off the phone after a few minutes and I asked him the question I had asked earlier.
Michael paid no attention to me. "What do you want me to tell your child?" I asked for the third time, hoping that I would get an answer this time.
"I don't care, woman! You can flush that bastard out of your belly, because, to me, it's as good as dead!"
His hurtful words came hitting me, again.