7. FLOWERS & BANDS

CHAPTER SEVEN

FLOWERS & BANDS

I’m angry. No cross that. I’m fucking pissed off. The sound of my heels coming into loud, rhythmic contact with the polished floor, is barely registering in my mind. My thoughts are only concentrated on that one door at the end of the floor and in my hand is a huge bouquet of roses.

“How are you Mrs.-“

“Not now Terry,” I walk past his secretary, badging into his office without word. He looks up from his laptop, recognition flooding his gaze when I slapped the roses on top of his desk.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Sending flowers to my work place and hiring some band to sing me a love song?” I’m livid and rightfully so.

“I thought you’d like it,” he answers, leaning back on his seat, his chest appearing broader. There was a time I would have found that sexy. But not anymore.

“You thought I’d like it? Even after all these years, you still don’t know me,” I shake my head, “Making me the center of attention at my work place won’t get you forgiveness from me. I had to go through the rest of the day at the hospital hearing people telling me just lucky I’m to have a husband like you. Do you know what’s that like?”

“Excuse me?” He raises an eyebrow as though he doesn’t understand a single word coming out of my lips.

“I want a divorce,” I cross my arms. That seems to jolt him and he quickly leaps to his feet, coming over to stand before me.

“Hon, we can get through this,”

“Get through what exactly?” I swallow, saying one final word, “I’ll be contacting my lawyer, Mark. You and I will never get through this,”

“But-“

“One last home-cooked dinner tonight,” I pause, watching his face, “It’s the least you can do,”

One final good memory. Even if its all pretend.

When I walk out, he doesn’t stop me. Not another word slips through his lips and neither does he come after me like in every cheesy movie. I don’t feel the tears that run down my eyes with every step I make towards the elevator. They aren’t tears of anger anymore. No, they are of heartbreak. I’m hurting. That one undeniable fact is painted all over me. It’s like an interminent squeeze of my insides and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

The ping of the elevator makes me quickly wipe me tears just as the door opens and the one person I never want to see again, walks out. She pauses, her eyes wide with shock before she swallows.

“Mrs. Washing-“

“He is all yours,” I say and I’m about to walk into the elevator when her next words stop me in my track.

“I’m pregnant,”

Have you ever felt like someone just sucked the soul out of you? Like they just put their hand inside your body, grabbed your most vital organs and just squeezed them like they need that to breath? I slowly turn on my feet, wondering if I heard her right.

“What? ” The word is barely loud enough to drown the sudden train of thoughts launching through my brain.

Her hand falls on her belly, “ Two months,”

“Two months?” This has to be a fever dream.

“I know you hate me more than anything and I get it-“

“No, you don’t get it,” And just like that anger of betrayal rushes back into my system, “ Neither you or him get it,”

“I love him,”

“Well, you can both go to hell,” I press on the elevator door and the moment it opens, I walk inside. The doors close and that’s when I fully break down.

If someone had told me a couple of weeks ago if the person, I trusted the most in this world would hurt me, I would have laughed right on their faces because of how ridiculous that very thought sounds.

I’m like a zombie when I walk out of the company premises, leaving my car in the VIP parking lot. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going but I just let my feet take the lead. My mind plays in a loop with all those memories of Mark and I while I try desperately to dissect them for the lies hidden in between his words. Did he really love me at one point? Was it all for a show while he banged his publicist?

I find myself at a park, sitting on a bench, my thoughts still punishing me. The tears are long dried up but the pain is still there. To make it even worse, there are families hanging out with their kids all around me, looking so happy. This was supposed to be my life. Mine and Mark’s. And now someone else gets to have it. Why? Just why was the universe so fucking cruel? Did I do something in my past life to warrant such pain?

I watch the darkness slowly begin to cover the city, street lights coming alive but the night isn’t dark enough to shroud the heartbreak ruling my life right now. I get up from the bench, hail a cab and go home.

Home. Such a funny little word. It used to be all familiar to me but right now nothing about this mansion feels anything like that. When I walk in, I’m surprised to find my mother-in-law sitting in the living room, sipping a glance of white wine.

“Mrs. Washington. I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” I force a smile, quickly composing myself.

“Do you know what it takes to be a Washington woman?” She questions instead, her gaze finding mine, “Resilience and making sure nobody walks all over you,”

“I don’t understand,”

“People like Evelyn are parasites. They’ll leech on whatever prey they can get their hands on,”

“So he actually found the balls to tell you,”

“Yes. He also said you asked for a divorce,” She takes another dramatic sip of her wine, “ You are not going to divorce him,”

“Excuse me?”

“I will be honest with you. Mark is sorry right now. He feels like a piece of shit. Frankly, it will feel good for a while watching him drown in his own misery. He’ll swear how he won’t ever cheat on you again and for a while he will remain true to his word. Until he won’t anymore. But then you’ll soon realize as the years go by, it becomes a habit. He will cheat more frequently. Each year the women will be younger, hotter,’

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m bracing you for the future,” She finishes the last sip, calling for our maid who runs over to refill the glass, “Because if you divorce him right now, who is the real loser? Your time, all those years will go to ashes.  He’ll probably marry her and she gets to be the winner. Surely, you are not really that naïve you’d let that happen?”

“You want me to stay in a marriage where he hurt me?” does she have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?

“Oh, I’m not asking you,” she smirks, “You sealed your fate when you signed the documents you know. Your lawyer should have double checked that prenuptial agreement. Don’t you remember? That tiny clause stipulating how much you’d pay him in the event of a divorce if it happens within the first ten years of marriage?”

“W-what?” My mind flips, “That was before I knew he’d cheat on me,”

We were supposed to be together forever, dammit!

“Yeah, well. He is a man after all. They would never let you go and yet, they can’t make any effort to make you the only one,” she pauses, the glass inches away from her lips, “Accept your fate my dear. The earlier the better. Because you will have to keep up appearances while drowning on the inside. Haven’t I taught you a thing?”

That’s when I looked at her. Really looked at her. She has been keeping up appearances all this while. From a camera’s view, she is a woman in the best marriage anyone can ask for. But on the inside, she is slowly dying from a broken heart.

This is going to be my life. Because let’s be honest, I can’t afford a whooping fifty million dollars to give to Mark. It may be pocket change to the Washingtons but to me, knowing I don’t come from a rich family, it will be the literal death of me.

Yeah, well, fuck the universe, right?