Claire
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.
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!”
ClaireAll he did was shake his head and then doze off to sleep. I stood there in the dim light from the lamps outside the window. The gentle hum of the air conditioning was the only noise here apart from his snoring.I stared at him for a minute. How could he be so ruthlessly indifferent to the pain that he had caused me? In the early days after our wedding, I had tried to show him that I loved him. But he had tip-toed around our marriage as though he were ashamed of it. I had never expected much from my marriage, having seen that love was something not everyone got to have. My parents had always bickered with each other. They had never gotten along. So, I had made my peace with the idea that regardless of how absent Gerald was from my life, at least we weren’t always hurling insults at one another. But this? Bringing a curvy actress into the picture to show me what I was missing? That was a blow below the belt. I woke up in the morning to make my way to the bathroom and realized
ClaireThe security guards took hold of me by either arm as Gerald stood in front of me. “Let go of me!” I exclaimed, trying to shake them off, “I can walk by myself!”They barely loosened their grip.“Make sure you escort her to the exit of the building,” Gerald said. He had already dialed an ambulance and I had heard them take Christina away. I had been standing there, shaking and crying, begging for Gerald to listen to me.The only emotion on his face was that of pure, unadulterated loathing.The journey from the top floor to the ground floor exit was one of the longest in my entire life.I wiped the tears off my face before stepping down from the first flight of stairs.It seemed that every single employee in Gerald’s company had abandoned work to come examine me. I was overwhelmed by the dense din of murmuring as people stared shiftily at me everywhere.Their faces bore twisted expressions -- a mixture of curiosity, disgust, and surprise.And not one person knew who I was. They w
GeraldI was beside myself with panic and worry when I arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes ago. Shaking and sweating, I darted off to the reception. They told me that Christina had been taken into the emergency room.I sat down in the waiting room outside. I had my head clutched in both of my arms and was doing all I could to stop myself from breaking down in despair. Beyond the white doors in front of me, the doctors were resuscitating the woman I loved.I could not believe that this was happening. How could Claire have done such a thing?I could not imagine the pain that Christina was going through right now. My heart ached for her delicate body which had so viciously been thrust down such a steep flight of stairs.Who could treat someone this way? How could Claire have stooped so low? I had never known much about Claire despite the fact that we had been married for years.Three years ago, Christina had left for Paris to pursue her passion for ballet. When she told me, I felt my
ClaireI’m pregnant? It could not be. I had not been well when I lost the first baby. It had taken a lot to pull myself back together. And the loss had left a dark pit in my heart.I had tried to fill the void by having another child. Gerald had been away for weeks and I had spent the entire time fantasizing. The images in my mind had revived my spirit.Then, Gerald had returned and I had told him what I thought.“Let’s make a baby,” I had murmured, stroking his chest. “Claire,” he had stared blankly at me, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”We had barely touched each other since, let alone be intimate with each other. But – I gasped as I remembered – something had happened a few weeks ago!That day, I had been combing my hair when Gerald had walked in through the door. He had been carrying a gift bag that he shifted to his other hand – where I could not see – as soon as he crossed the threshold. I turned back towards the dresser with a sly smile.It was our third wedding anniversar
ClaireJennifer had already left for work when I woke up the next morning. The sun shone bright through the large glass windows into the luxurious guest bedroom that Jennifer had set up for me.I got up, took a shower, and brushed my teeth. Wrapping a bath robe around myself, I stepped into the bedroom. Someone knocked on the door.“Come in,” I said, a little apprehensive. I breathed when the maid entered the room. She was carrying a basket full of freshly laundered, ironed clothes.“Miss Morrison said to give you these,” she said. I thanked her and the maid left. I pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. The basket also contained fresh underwear. I was grateful. After getting dressed, I put on a pair of bedroom slippers and prepared to head downstairs for breakfast.Jennifer had given me a laptop last night. I took it downstairs with me and edited my resume as I ate my breakfast.Just then, my phone chimed. It was Harry.“Claire, I need $50,000 fast,” read the text.Harry was my yo
ClaireI had to strain myself to prevent my jaw from dropping. This was the same man who saved me the other day!He had been the one who picked me up and took me to the hospital when I had fainted.And now he was interviewing me. I was amazed at the striking coincidence. Or, maybe it was just a really small world.I blushed a little at the embarrassing memory of me fainting in his arm but then smiled. “Thank you so much, sir,” I said to him.“You’re welcome,” he replied warmly and then turned towards the screen on his laptop computer. Then, they began to ask the questions.“Have you gained any new qualifications recently, Miss Claire?” an interviewer on the left side asked me. He was older than my rescuer and had a grey beard. He was looking at me intently.“No, but I did well at college,” I replied.“I can see that,” he replied, glancing down at my resume, “But you graduated three years ago and haven’t been working since. If you didn’t get any qualifications, what did you do to impro
GeraldI had spent the past few weeks mostly at the hospital. Christina’s legs had been put in a cast. On the day I finally took her to her house, I had been grim. The doctors had told me that, over time, Christina would be able to walk again. But she would never be able to dance.The news had sunk my heart. I had no idea how to break it to her. I had decided that I would wait until she was able to walk again before giving her the news.Every day, I had flowers sent to her house: pink and purple orchids, her favorites.And every evening after work, I would visit her. I tried to help her out of her depression – escorting her wheelchair out into the garden, ordering her favorite foods, taking her out for drives – but Christina hardly ever wanted to do anything. She had once been the liveliest person I had ever known – a beautiful ray of sunshine. And now, she looked so helpless and sad in her wheelchair and spent most of her time watching ballet performances on television. It broke m
ClaireI poured hot water into the French press and then waited for five minutes. On the other side of the wall, there was silence. I stirred the coffee and then pressed it down, pouring the mixture into the teapot. Why weren’t they talking to each other? The quiet was making me nervous. I gently lifted the teapot, placed it on a tray, and then set the sugar pot and milk jug on the side.Carefully carrying the tray, I peered through the door. Arthur was perusing a file that Gerald had handed to him. I breathed a sigh of relief. That made sense about why they weren’t chatting right now.Gerald looked up when I brought the coffee tray inside. I set it down on the table and then began preparing their coffee. I could feel him staring at me. The gaze made me tense up.“Sugar?” I almost asked Gerald, but then I remembered that he disliked milk and sugar in his caffeine. I added a dash of milk to Arthur’s cup, the way that he had told me he preferred it, and then brought those cups over to