The CEO's Ex-Wife

Chapter 6

One evening, about a week, after I arrived, I came home and heard laughing. Pausing, I raised a brow in curiosity and listened for a second. I couldn’t quite place the voices through the giggling, so I then headed to the kitchen to say hello.

Please don’t be Sarah, please don’t be Sarah.

There, I found my Mom and Aunt Jen in fits of laugher. Though not a blood relation, I’d always called her aunt. Aunt Jen was my mom’s best friend from high school. I’d known her my whole life. Aunt Jen took me for my first few driving lessons. Aunt Jen talked me through my first broken heart. It was Aunt Jen who hugged me when I was down. Aunt Jen took me to the beach for the first time. When I needed someone, it was always Aunt Jen that was there ready to listen. Though her brand of advice was more the tough and blunt kind. The kind of advice that doesn’t hide the fact that life isn’t all unicorns and roses. Still, I appreciated that she always listen, she always cared.

My face lit with a huge genuine smile when I spotted her. I had missed her. She had barely aged in 8 years. Her dark skin was still smooth and flawless, except her smile lines, they were etched a little deeper. Her long, normally dark, hair today was a riot of pastel braids.

“Oh, Precious you poor thing!” She rushed to me and scooped me up in a crushing hug. God, it felt nice. I felt the dam break and all my pent-up feelings flowed out. I just couldn’t hold it back.

I burst into uncontrollable sobs. Rocking me in a tight bear hug, Aunt Jen cooed reassuringly.

“Oh, Precious. Tell me all about it.”

Before I knew it I launched into my pathetic tale of woe.

“At first, he was perfect. He’d make a big show of being protective of me, he said he would always look after me, love me. And he did. He was adorable and perfect. I felt like I’d been the one taking care of everyone, loving everyone unconditionally, but without feeling loved in return.” I said. I didn’t look at my Mom and she was silent. It all came flowing out of me.

“What he really meant was that he wanted to make all the decisions about us and I was expected to go along with it. Except at work. I became so dependent on my work as my only outlet. He was completely different around the office. He seemed to appreciate everything I did and trusted me to handle so much. I took on more and more responsibility and I loved feeling capable and needed. He acted like a loving husband to the outside world, but at home he made me feel vulnerable and isolated. His growing desire to control everything was getting ridiculous. He’d approve all my clothes, all my choices. If I argued or disagreed he would get aggressive. He’d push me, throw things at me, call me names, humiliate me. He’d screw other women and make me watch. He’d always make some grand apology later. Buy me take me away for the weekend to some exotic island or some equally expensive show of love. He didn’t get angry often. I always forgave him. As the years by though, it just got worse. His outburst became more frequent and it got harder to cope with his mood swings.”

“I felt constantly on edge. He never actually hit me, but he’d shove me and threaten me. Then the next minute he’d apologize and harass me for make-up s*x with him. He constantly demanded that I have s*x to prove I loved him. In the beginning, when we made love he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. In the end, the thought of him touching me made me cringe. My life revolved around making him happy. If he wasn’t happy for any reason it was my fault. I was inadequate. I was ashamed to tell anyone. I had no one to tell. He told me many times that no one else wanted me.”

Finally, having gotten most of it out in my rushed confession, I started to calm down.

“Urgh, again with the crying. What is wrong with me?” I sobbed out. I couldn't face looking at Aunt Jen or my mom, so I keep my eyes downcast on my lap.

“Oh, nothing is wrong with you, Precious. He’s the one with problems. You were always too good for him. But you need to accept responsibility for your part. You left us.”Aunt Jen said, seeing the look of shock on my face she continued quickly.

“I know what he did to you. I could see it at your wedding. You were so smitten with him you’d already started let pieces of yourself slip away. But you need to own your part in that. You gave up your independence. Why did you stay? Why did you put up with it?”

“You’re implying that what? I wanted his emotional and physical abuse? That I liked it? I deserved it? I’m responsible for all my… suffering? Not him?” Clenched my fist under the table, I struggled to control my voice. I could feel my cheeks burning, the sting of tears in my eyes, my anger surging. Of all the people! I expected my family to blame me, but not Aunt Jen. She had always been there for me, always stood up for me, when no one else did. I was livid. Confused. Was it my fault? Should I have left sooner?

“No. Never. I can see you’re angry. I didn’t mean it was your fault. I don’t know all the ways he hurt you, but I know he did. Badly. You need to see that so you never let it happen again.” She reached toward me and patted my knee.

“That’s the only way you regain control of your life. You have to understand your choices so you never repeat the cycle. You let him control you. You let him take you from your friends, from your family.” Aunt Jen leaned forward and wrapped me in a hug.

I snorted, “It’s not like they noticed” I mumbled into her shoulder.

“We noticed.” That was the first thing my mother had said to me since I walked in. Since I started pouring my soul out. I’m grateful she didn’t interrupt during my spiel. Or deny my feelings or their causes. I’d almost forgotten she was in the kitchen too.

She didn’t speak again. She didn’t deny it. It shouldn’t still hurt but it did.

Aunt Jen released me and flicked a glance at each of us. No one spoke for a minute.

If I could bottle and sell awkward silence I’d be a millionaire.

“You noticed you didn’t have a babysitter 24/7. You noticed you didn’t have dinner ready every night. You noticed the jobs around the house weren’t done. You never noticed me.” Bitterness leaking through my tone. I couldn’t help it, it just popped out of my mouth.

“Oh Precious, you’re drooling a little sarcasm there. Do you need a napkin?” Aunt Jen said, reaching out to wipe the imaginary drool from my chin.

I laughed despite my anger, flapping my hands to bat hers away.

“Thanks, Mom.” I joke to Aunt Jen.

I catch a bitter look cross my mother’s face. Did that really upset her? She never really noticed my existence, what right does she have to be hurt if I call Aunt Jen, Mom, I was only teasing anyway. To be fair though, Aunt Jen has always treated me truly like a daughter. Growing up y mom always treated me like a burden.

“You look exactly the same,” Jennifer said a few minutes later, grabbing one of my red locks and twirling it in her fingers, like the whole conversation we just had never happened.

“Matthew always liked it long. He never wanted me to change it.”I mumbled.

“Then perhaps it’s time now. New hairstyle, new life I say! Let me work my magic, precious girl.”

I love that she calls me precious.

“If there’s anyone I trust with my hair it’s you. Have at it”

Jen tossed back her head and laughed. She slid me a yellow post-it note. “Put this on the bathroom mirror and read it every day. “Not now!” she snapped when I went to read it. I pocketed the note with a shrug. Jen dashed to the car to get her salon bag.

My mother and I waited without speaking.

“Any requests?” she asked when she returned, dragging a black carry-on size case.

“I just do not want to be me anymore.” I didn’t just mean the hair.

An hour later, we’d drank two bottles of Prosecco between the three of us, and the mood had lightened considerably. Jen had dragged much of the relationship dirt out of me, and my hair was chopped into a shaggy bob with bangs. I’d never cut my hair so drastically. I didn’t recognize myself in the small hand mirror. It felt so freeing. Of course, the bubbly probably helped with that.

“Thanks, aunt Jen. You are amazing.” I wiped the tear from my eye. It was crazy but really did feel like a new person now. Perhaps it was the Prosecco and hairdresser therapy.

Jen glowed. “It’s not often I get completely free reign on a live person.” She ran her fingers through my now much shorter hair.

“Oh, We should have colored it, some low lights and highlights, you look gorgeously sun-kissed,” Jen added wistfully.

“Next time, Aunt Jen.”

The three of us chatted a little while longer, then I made my exit. Back in my room, standing in front of the mirror in my room I knew Matthew would hate this look. He believed that women “should look like women”, dresses, skirts, long hair, perfect make-up, high heels. I’d always looked as he’d expected me to look. There’s no going back now I thought. Not that I wanted to. In fact that made me love this new look so much more. Screw him and his chauvinistic ways. Screw him and his wandering d**k. I hope his long-haired, skirt-wearing w***e makes him happy. No, I don’t. I hope they are miserable together and she gives him an STD. I hope the business tanks and the house burns down.

Gosh, where did all this bile come from I’d never felt this nasty toward another person? It’s a new day!

I traipsed back downstairs for water, pausing outside the kitchen when I heard my mothers’ voice.

“She always thought she was too good for us. Like she could do than us. She’s so much like her father.” My body slumped. Just when I thought we’d bonded a little since our talk last week and during the tipsy heart to heart just now. Obviously, I was wrong. I walked into the kitchen and said my piece.

“I look like him, Mom. And you always hated me for it. But you abandoned me long before I left. It’s not my fault that I look like him. It’s not my fault he left. And the fact that I remind you of him shouldn’t have been a reason for you to cut me off. I was 6 years old! Resented, confused, and lonely. I needed a mom.”

I spun on my heel and marched back to my room. Slamming the door before falling onto my childhood bed consumed by anger.

After a few minutes of quiet sulking and self-pity, I remembered the note in my pocket from Aunt Jen.

Take control of your life.

Seize what you want.

You owe it to yourself.

Smiling to myself, I leap up and tuck the note into the frame of the vanity mirror.

I didn’t see my mom for the rest of the night and I made a point to disappear to work quietly in the morning. What could say anyway? What more do I have to say? On the walk to the diner I remind myself when life throws challenges at you, you either fold under the pressure, or you pick yourself up and fight through them. This was just another obstacle. And problem-solving was a particular skill of mine. Penniless though I might be, this was a minor speed bump on my road to independence. I needed my own space ASAP. For that I needed money. I’ll figure something out.