Chapter 1

1: 1

After I found out my husband, Rolf Simmons, had a so-called confidante on the side.

I went straight to his office and made a scene, forcing him to swear in front of everyone that he would never betray me again.

I slapped that woman across the face in public. The whole thing blew up into a scandal, and because she couldn't hold her head up anymore, she was forced to move to another city.

Rolf called me unreasonable, said I was acting like a madwoman. Our son blamed me too, said I was overbearing and never once thought about how anyone else felt.

Then I found out Rolf was slipping off to the neighboring city every week, behind my back, to meet that woman.

But my son stopped me and said,

"My dad's been controlled by you for half his life. Can't he have a little space of his own?"

"Aunt Dawn understands my dad. She accepts him. And my dad's willing to open up to her. What they have went beyond love a long time ago. Stop reading your own dirty thoughts into other people."

That was when it finally hit me. The family I had worn myself out holding together was, in their eyes, nothing but a burden.

Fine, then. I'd give them what they wanted.

……

Rolf came home just as I finished dinner and set the last dish on the table.

He took off his coat, glanced at the spread, and his brow creased right away.

"Why is it these same dishes again? Can't you ever change it up?"

He poked at the braised pot roast a few times with his chopsticks and started in again.

"How many times have I told you, braised pot roast needs pork belly, three parts fat to two parts lean. How did you go and buy the lean-heavy cut again? Kills my appetite just looking at it."

"Same handful of dishes, round and round for decades, and still not the slightest improvement."

I stood there and looked at him.

So was that it? He got sick of my cooking, so he went looking for someone else?

When I said nothing, he let out a sigh.

"I'm not saying this to blame you. But next time, before you cook, you could think a little more about me and your son."

I didn't answer him. I just asked, flat, without any expression,

"Where did you go over the weekend?"

His chopsticks paused for a beat over the food, then he recovered.

"I already told you. A business trip."

"A business trip to the neighboring city?"

"Yes. A client I had to see."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and forced out an ugly smile.

"A business trip to Dawn Lawrence's place?"

The words were barely out when he slammed his bowl down on the table. Broken shards and oatmeal splattered across the floor.

"You followed me?!"

He shot to his feet and stared down at me, his whole face full of rage.

"Selma Farley, is something wrong with you? Do I have to report to you every place I go?"

Our son, Basil Simmons, heard the commotion and hurried out of his room.

He glanced at the broken bowl on the floor, then at me, his voice thick with impatience.

"Mom, what are you making a fuss about now?"

"Dad works so hard out there to support this family. It's bad enough you don't appreciate him, but now you won't even give him a little free time?"

The old me would have fired back at the top of my lungs, would have poured out how hard everything was for me while praying someone, anyone, would say a word in my defense.

But now, facing the two of them and their blame, all I said was,

"Rolf, let's get divorced."

He froze for a second, then laughed.

"Divorce? What are you going to divorce me with?"

"You're getting old. Your parents are gone. You leave me, where would you go? Even if you remarried, who would want you?"

"A middle-aged woman with no job. What makes you think you can?"

Every word out of his mouth went into my heart like a needle.

I couldn't help thinking back thirty years.

To be with Rolf, I fought with my family more times than I could count. My father was so angry he ended up in the hospital. My mother cried and begged me not to marry him.

I gave up my chance to study in the big city, all because Rolf had once sworn to the heavens that he would be good to me for the rest of my life, that he would never let me suffer even the smallest wrong.

And in the end, we still came to this.

Seeing that I'd gone quiet, his tone softened a little, and he bent down to pick up the pieces of the bowl.

"That's enough, Selma. We're an old married couple. Do you have to turn the whole house upside down before you're satisfied?"

I didn't answer. I turned, picked up the plates, and walked into the kitchen.

The faucet ran and ran. I stared at the water and let my mind go blank.

How did Rolf and I end up like this?

In the beginning, he really had cared.

Back when Basil was still in elementary school, Dawn Lawrence from his office had sent him flirty messages, and I'd cried half the night over it.

Rolf deleted her contact right in front of me and even offered on his own to cut all ties with her.

Until a few years later, when she was transferred back. She said what happened all those years ago was her fault, that she owed me. Then she slit her wrists, and right before that, she called Rolf.

When he rushed to the hospital, he held her hand, shaken and afraid, all guilt and heartache.

When he came home, he said to me,

"Dawn's been in a bad place since her divorce, that's the only reason she wanted to talk things over with me. She didn't mean anything by it. Don't go after her anymore."

That was how I learned they'd been childhood sweethearts, that they'd known each other for years.

But I still couldn't let it go. I thought once I drove Dawn Lawrence away, there'd be no one left to break up my family.

Until today, when I found out Rolf was sneaking off to the neighboring city every week to see her.

And my husband and my son had turned around and put the blame on me.