The Woman in White

Betrayal. Heartbreak. Wasn’t that always the way it happened? Where was love, in this day and age? Why was it that no love lasted forever?

Medea stared blankly at the turquoise water that rippled gently within the confines of her backyard pool. A glass of red wine sat on the table beside where she sat, her homely white dress touching the pool deck. It was a beautiful backyard, just as the rest of her house was—perfectly kempt, clean, and brilliantly expensive.

And still, it was a wonderful home. At least, she thought so. Her boys, her beautiful boys, with the same bright eyes and sandy hair as their father—they thought so too. They loved it here, loved playing in the pool. That’s what they were doing now, of course. Lazing about in the pool, enjoying the sun.

She thought it would be easier, this horrifying thing she’d been forced to do. Or, perhaps, it was more likely that her husband’s betrayal and her own subsequent heartbreak had turned her numb to it.

How could he do this to her? She was young. She was beautiful. She was one of the most powerful and wealthy women in the world—daughter of a man regarded as a practical king. She’d left her entire family to be with him. She’d given him status, money, a beautiful home and two beautiful children. And how does he repay her? By running off with some half-wit heiress. What could possibly be worse than that?

Perhaps the fact that Jason was suing for custody.

“Insane,” she scoffed to herself, taking another sip of her wine. “Can you believe that, boys? They called Mommy legally insane. I’m not insane, am I?”

Her boys didn’t answer her, but that was fine. They were enjoying their time in the pool.

“Of course not,” Medea answered herself. “Insane is abandoning your family for the first little floozy that drifts across your path. Insane is using your wife, whom you loved, to climb up in the world, then take her for everything she’s got. Take away everything she loves. That’s insane.”

She went to set her glass down, and accidentally tipped it over. It shattered onto the pool deck, and she sighed. “Damn.” Time to go get another one, the boys would be fine on their own for a minute.

The house was so cold when it was empty. She didn’t think she was going to stay here after this. After all Jason put her through, after he tore their family apart, this house didn’t feel like home anymore. And yet… she didn’t know where else she had to go.

As she was pouring herself another glass of wine, she heard the front door open. Ah, Jason was home. He came into the kitchen, dense and self-absorbed as ever, and regarded his wife with distaste in his eyes.

“I thought you were going to stay at your father’s place.”

Medea laughed. “That’s how you greet your wife? I shudder to think what that little trophy will have to deal with. When’s the wedding, eh?”

Jason frowned at her. “Medea, this is how it is. The Judge declared you unfit to take care of our children. If you’re not going to leave the house, I have to take them with me.”

“Unfit!” Disbelief raised the tone in her voice. “Unfit to take care of my own children! Children you neglected, children you forgot!” Her wine sloshed around in the glass as she pointed her finger at him. “This is how it is, Jason. Remember that you are at fault for all of this. You tore our family apart. Everything that’s happened, it’s all because of you!”

“Marriages fall apart, Medea!”

“Oh, absolutely they do—especially when you take a sledgehammer to them!”

Jason closed his eyes and shook his head, desperately trying to reign in his own anger. “Look. The divorce is final, Medea. I’m marrying Glauce, and there’s nothing you can do. Where are the boys? I’ll help them pack.”

Medea’s expression melted into one of subtle, sly victory. “You won’t need to do that. They’re not going with you.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Medea! Where are they?”

After a beat of silence, Medea raised her glass to her lips. “They’re in the pool.” She took a long sip as Jason stormed past her. She reveled in the tense moments, anticipating Jason’s reaction when he realized that their sons would not, in fact, be going with them.

As Jason’s screams of despair echoed through the halls of their house, her wine tasted like sweet, sweet victory. The lacy skirt of her white dress tickled her bare feet as she stepped back out onto the pool deck, relishing in the sight before her. There was no better retribution than this: seeing Jason, the man who’d ripped her family and her heart to shreds, standing in the pool, wailing and clutching the lifeless bodies of his water-logged and blue-lipped sons. His pleas to God fell on pitiless ears, as Medea sipped the last of her wine.