The Lies We Tell

Many people ask why I didn't notice the signs at first. Because, to me, there were no signs. Instead, they were validation, reasons to continue on. What do I know? I am sitting here, waiting to see him. Again. I was dressed in a fashionable yet appropriate pants suit. I had to borrow it from my friend. I would never have anything this nice. I should definitely invest. My mind always wanders when I'm under stress. I waited to see him; he should walk into the room anytime. The room. The courtroom. I was in the courtroom, awaiting the trial of my husband. Or do I refer to him as my ex-husband now? I shuddered at the thought. There is no way that there is actually a trial for my husband. Or ex-husband. The same man I had been married to for seven years. This couldn't actually be happening. The judge banged his gavel as my mind continued on my pity party.

"Courtroom dismissed."

Just like that, I was ushered out of the room as the docket changed to the next case, and I was alone to wonder what had happened. I would not be seeing my husband today, my ex-husband.

"Happy anniversary," I whispered to myself.

Chapter 1

Months Earlier

I was in the middle of making an elaborate dinner for my husband, Jeremy. He worked all day. And me staying at home all day seems only fitting I should make him something worthy of a king. Not to say he didn't spoil me and also helped me around the house, but I took special care to do as much as possible. Tonight the menu was sea scallops over mushroom risotto with a red blend wine to pair. I would be serving a mixed green salad to start. I was bringing out our fancy tableware and sets. Tonight was a special occasion indeed. I was so busy making dinner that I didn't hear my husband walk in. In fact, I hadn't noticed he had been leaning against the pillar for a few minutes.

He cleared his throat, "what is the special occasion, my love?" His voice was raspy, as if he was starting to come down with something. I turned sharply and dropped the mushroom I was cutting.

"Oh, you startled me!" I exclaimed. I had never finished talking when he swept me up and kissed me slowly. His arms wrapped around me; I could feel how muscular they were, even under his sweater. He was a broad man with proud shoulders. His skin was a deep olive, and he had other dark features. He finally released me from his grip when I wiggled out of his arms.

"My special dinner, it's going to burn if you don't put me down." I playfully teased, pushing him off me.

"Well, maybe we can go straight to dessert," he murmured into my hair as his arms slithered back around my waist. He rested his head on my shoulder and watched me cook, cut and prepare the dinner.

"Can I get you some wine?" I asked him. He sighed and woefully let me go. I took a moment to really look at him in that instance. I could tell something was bothering him. I stood and looked him in the eyes.

"Wait a minute, what is wrong?" I stared at his dark eyes; they looked hollow.

He ruffled his hair with his hand and broke eye contact with me. He walked towards the bar and poured himself a scotch. He took a long sip of the clear, amber liquid. Long enough to worry me. Finally, he spoke.

"I was hoping to wait, but I know you. You will drop it when I tell you. I want a divorce."

I gasped and immediately stepped backward. Instinctively I put my hand on my belly, and my heart dropped. He said it coldly, without emotion. It wasn't like him. He had little to no inflection that I could use to discern if he misspoke or meant it to be that harsh.

"I have something to tell you," I whispered in a small voice. He shook his head and looked like he was going to cry. He wouldn't look me in the eyes. I wanted to reach out and hold his face. But I was paralyzed on the spot.

"I know what you were going to tell me, and I'm telling you. You can choose what you wish to do, but you shouldn't keep it." His voice had moved from sad to distant. As if he remembered what he was doing, "I saw the pregnancy test in the wastebasket yesterday. I had some time to think at work today. I'm going to sell the practice. I will give you as much as I can. You can do whatever you want."

I was still in shock; by this time, my mushroom risotto was burning. I didn't care. Jeremy jumped up from leaning on the counter and started trying to take the dish off the burner. He was so hurried that he forgot to get the gloves and grabbed them with his bare hands. He jumped back, howling. I immediately jumped into action.

"Put your hands under this cool water," I instructed. As he was rinsing his hands, I handled the dish. I then went and got him some ice for his writing. He was quiet as I handed him the ice.

"You may want to go to the hospital for that," I told him. He grunted as if I had made a funny joke. We sat in silence. I was on one side of the kitchen, and he was on another. He cleared his throat.

"You should get your things together and start heading to your mom's. We can make arrangements for the rest in the following weeks. This is going to be as painless as possible." He was calm, collected, even after burning his hands. This was serious.

I hadn't yet cried. I hadn't even had that much time to comprehend, and now I had to go and start packing my things? I spoke up at this point, "Let's just eat and go to bed. This will all be better in the morning." I was almost pleading.

He was distraught again, "No, this won't be better in the morning. In fact, it is only going to get worse. Rose, I have asked very little of you. Please don't fight me on this. My mind is made up. It is in everyone's best interests that this ends here."

Shockingly, I didn't fight him. Instead, I took off my apron and went upstairs. He was soon behind me with some suitcases. I started to rummage through my closet and pull items from it. I wasn't sure what I was grabbing. I had yet to learn how long I would be gone or when I could return my other items. I had not yet started crying, and I was at a loss as to why not. I had to be pregnant for at least a few weeks, and the hormones alone would have made me lose it. But I continued to pack in stunned silence.

I occasionally glanced at Jeremy and noticed that he was staring at me, the pain in his face evident. Still, something held him back from doing anything with the pain. As if he was memorizing every detail of my face. Finally, we walked to the garage, and he helped load my suitcases into the back of the Suburban. Without any other words, I started to get into the car. Before I could, he had me back in his arms. He was hugging me tightly. Still, he said nothing, but I held him back. I wondered if this would be the last time we would embrace. It wasn't so much a hug, more of a cling. He was clinging to me as if his life depended on it. When he released me, he gently touched my stomach briefly. I saw that he had tears in his eyes. I turned away, and the tears were starting. He kissed my hand and put an envelope into it.

"Soon, everything will make sense," he choked out.