Chapter 2

This wasn’t the first time that I had considered divorcing him either. Between the long periods of neglect and inattentiveness that Gerald had put me through, there had been his mother. Agatha had never approved of our marriage.

What is more, I have already found a job. I have an exceptional passion for pursuing my aspirations. I don‘t want to—and I can't, stay at home forever.

Gerald was an old-money businessman with an empire that spanned across the Americas, Vietnam, and Cambodia. I was the daughter of an electrical engineer who had majored in Marketing as a scholarship student. Gerald had been my classmate in college and we had gotten married because I was pregnant. 

I had thought that, after tonight, everything would change and I would publicly spend the rest of my life being celebrated as his wife.

But I had learned the bitter truth: that he had never publicized our marriage because he was dating another woman.

I came home, crumpled and teary-eyed. The lobby lights were switched on and the staff was nowhere to be seen. And then Agatha stepped out of the drawing room.

“Finally home, are we?” she murmured in a murderously vicious tone.

My blood ran cold. Not again.

“What are you standing there staring at me for?” she spat, “Go and fetch a bucket and a mop!”

I ran along the length of the corridor in my heels, unlatched the concealed broom cupboard door, and fished out my cleaning paraphernalia.

“Dining room. Drawing room,” she said, “You know the order.”

An hour later, after having wiped clean every surface of the drawing and dining rooms, I entered the living room where Agatha was seated before the television set, her legs crossed duchess-style.

The hems of my dress had gotten wet and my hair had come undone. The screen on the television blared the news of an upcoming N*****x series that was adapted from a classical art film. I saw her there again: Christina in a short white dress interviewing at the entertainment channel.

“Now that is an elegant dress,” Agatha said. She was smiling at her son’s mistress, who was laughing at the interviewer’s quips from the other side of the screen. I stood and stared. Did Agatha know Gerald loves Christina? 

It was humiliating to think that everyone had always known that he loved Christina and not me. I must have been the laughingstock of Massachusetts for quite some time. The thought made my stomach turn. 

Agatha turned towards me, “Well?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, “Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to finish cleaning up this room?”

I fished out a sponge from a bucket on the trolley that I had wheeled in. I bent down and began wiping the floor.

“Are you jealous of Christina, girl?” Agatha asked. I looked wordlessly up at her. I had learned not to respond to anything that Agatha ever said to me because that would only intensify my suffering.

Gerald was absent from home for long hours. And talking back to Agatha was never a good idea.

“I rather like it,” I had said with a smile.

“Oh, really?” Agatha had said, “How do you like this?”

She had kicked the bucket of mopped-up water on the floor and I had to spend the next four hours cleaning it up again. When I had finished, she had walked up to me.

“The next time you come at me with your little cheek,” she had hissed, twirling a lock of my hair and then yanking it back, “I’m going to chop these off! Do you understand?”

So I quietly continued scrubbing the floor now as Agatha stared at me.

“Do you understand, girl,” Agatha said, “That you will never be her?”

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked up to me. I tried to keep my eyes glued firmly to the off-white floor as her white legs and court shoes towered before me.

“Look at you with your complete lack of fashion sense,” she said, “Don’t you know that that color you’re wearing is dated?”

Tears welled up in my eyes and fell on the floor.

“And what were you thinking, wearing purple with that pale of a skin stone?”

My lips trembled and I began to sob.

Satisfied with my misery, Agatha walked away.

And I realized that no one in this family had ever been on my side.

Later that night, after I’d washed up and changed into my cotton nightie, I stared into the mirror at my dresser. 

I had never felt so alone in my life. All my life, I had fended for myself. My mother had never been there for me. My brother had only ever stayed in touch to ask for money. 

I had tolerated everything that Agatha had put me through for three years simply because I loved Gerald and I believed that he loved me back. I had thought that he was the one for me. 

It shattered me to think that that was no longer the case. 

Be strong, I whispered to myself, the way I had when my father had passed away and my mother had run away. Be strong, I told the girl in the mirror, reminding her of how I had worked part-time to make it through college.

As if on cue, Gerald walked in through the door. He was tumbling down and reeking of alcohol.

“Hey, beautiful,” he slurred at me and put his hands around my waist. Before I could stop him, he swooped down and planted his lips on mine. I squirmed in his grip and tried to free myself. But he would not let go.

“Gerald!” I gasped in between his smothering kisses. He seemed to be swallowing me.

My stomach turned in disgust. My lips turned numb from the alcohol on his tongue.

I went limp for a second and he loosened his arms. I exhaled, holding my breath to prevent the alcohol from entering my bloodstream, “I—“

“Christina...” he garbled.

I was shocked. I could not believe that he could say his mistress’s name here. Had he no respect for me at all?

I shoved him back.

I could not believe that it had come to this: that the man who I had always loved so deeply had betrayed me like this. Keeping me locked away at home was one thing and allowing his mother to treat me like a drudge was another, but he had violated the very sanctity of our vows by bringing another woman into the picture.

My stomach turned around in knots and my knees gave away. I held back tears and clutched the top of the dresser to prevent myself from falling in despair.

Gerald had always acted the same way every time I would get upset: he would withdraw from me and act cold and distant. This was exactly what he was doing now. 

Tears welled up in my eyes for the hundredth time that night.

“Claire?” his face was expressionless, “What the hell are you doing?”

I looked up at him miserably, my face swollen red. Before I could answer, though, he shook his head and shuffled towards the bathroom. That cold indifference ripped my heart. 

I began to wail. But no one was here to hear my screams. There was no one here to comfort me. 

I could hear the water running. Just then, his phone began to vibrate. Christina’s name and face popped up on the caller ID.

When the phone stopped ringing, I saw the texts: 

Christina: Hey, baby. You home yet?

Christina: I feel so much better. Guess all I needed was a little bit of you ;) Good night! I’ll be dreaming of you. 

I felt dizzy and weak. I wanted to scream again. They must be back together now, I thought bitterly. 

Gerald came out of the bathroom. He barely glanced at me. He straightened out his comforter over him on the bed.

I have had enough. I said with wounded rage, “I want a divorce!”