Letting Go

“Mrs. Ward, did you hear what I said?” The doctor called, trying to get my attention. I look back at her, wondering how this could be my life right now. “I said this early in the pregnancy, you need to be more careful and eat a nutritious diet.  Too much stress is harmful to the baby.” She’s a kind-looking doctor. Her auburn hair hangs loose around her face at shoulder length, and her bright red lipstick calls more attention to her face.

“Please, don’t put the pregnancy in my records.  I’m begging you. I promise I’ll be more careful; I just need time to get my affairs in order.”  I state, knowing this pregnancy means it’s time to divorce my husband, Zander Ward.  We’ve been heading in this direction for two years now, but last night was the final straw. I have to protect our child…. No, not our child, my child.

“I have to ask, is there something wrong? Do you feel safe at home?” the doctor asked, a look of concern crossing her face.

               “Nothing is wrong. I just… Can you please not put the pregnancy in the report? I know how strange of a request this is, but I’m asking you for a favor.  Give me three weeks, then you can correct my file.  Just three weeks.  Please?” I’m trying to keep myself from shaking. 

 “I can do a week, but that’s it.  If I omit it too long, I could get in trouble,” the doctor finally says with a sigh.  “If you tell me your reasons, I could perhaps do an emergency order to help you.”

               “There is nothing wrong, I just want to surprise my husband.  He’s out of town for a few weeks, but his mother is extremely nosy and will find the report then tell him before I can.”  It’s not a full lie, but close enough to the truth that it’s believable.

               “My sister has a mother-in-law like that.  Okay, I can help.  I’ll put it in as an abdominal obstruction that needs to be monitored. Go to an OB for a follow-up in three weeks.  If you experience any more bleeding or pain, please come back.  Rest and remember to eat.  Your body needs its strength to grow your baby.”

               “I understand, thank you.” I redressed while she left to write up my discharge papers.  I have a few stops to make before I return home.  Not that Zander will notice he’s either at work or chasing his ex, Mariah, around the city. 

               As soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I drove to the courthouse.  I find the clerk's office and ask how I can file for a quick divorce without dragging it out in court or using lawyers.  I want a clean break, to walk away with nothing from him.  Then I called my boss and explained that the hospital advised me to take a few days off to rest due to stress, causing my blood pressure to drop, which caused me to faint in the office.

               With the divorce decree papers in hand, I drive home, hoping I can get him to sign without any pushback.  After last night, I pray he’s back to ignoring me.  I haven’t let him touch me in a month, since Mariah posted a picture to her social media of him sleeping in her bed.  Last night, when I rejected his advances, he pinned me down and took advantage of me, all while looking at a provocative picture of her on his phone. It was disgusting to think he forced himself on me while thinking of her.

               I enter the house to find him sitting at the table, working on his computer.  “Zander, I want a divorce,” I announce. 

               “Have whatever you want for dessert.  I don’t care, Sara.  Can’t you see I’m working?” Zander stated, glancing at me with displeasure.  I hand him the papers to sign.  “You’re finally giving me the paperwork for the donation you requested.  I’ve been asking you for this for weeks now.” He hasn’t spoken to me, exactly, in a week.  He’s demanded I make him food, a drink, and even fix a button on his shirt, but not about the donation to the gala my company is holding in three months to promote awareness about child hunger.  He signs the papers without even reading them.  “Just fill them out for me.  Put me down for $5,000, okay?”

               “Sure,” I force a smile.  “Thank you, Zander.”

               “Yeah, whatever,” he replies.  I walk to our bedroom and sit down at my vanity, looking at myself in the mirror. 

Six years of my life I dedicated myself to this marriage. Two years ago, Mariah returned, and Zander’s attention began to waver from me. The past two months have been hell. Constant posts by Mariah about his devotion to her, all the things he’s canceled on me at the last minute. My birthday, my promotion to senior executive of operations in my company, Christmas, and two months ago, our anniversary.  Each time he told me he was working late, she posted something about them being together.  It’s exhausting.

I carefully fill out the paperwork before signing it myself.  I’ll bring it to the courthouse tomorrow for filing.  Then I pull out my phone and make a call I’ve been dreading for months now. 

“Saraphina? What’s wrong?” My mother answers.

“Can I come stay with you and Dad for a little?” I manage to ask, praying she doesn’t dig for more information.

               “Of course, you know you are always welcome here.  I’ll get your room ready.  Do you have a date you plan to arrive by?”

               “A month from now,” I answer.

“We’ll see you then.  Oh, did you get my message the other week?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been working on a new project at work, with my new promotion and all, I didn’t check my messages.”

               “You got a promotion and didn’t tell me?” Zander’s voice cut in.  I quickly hang up my phone and turn to face him.  His expression looks like he’s hurt, but the truth is, I did tell him a month ago.  He told me to make a reservation at my favorite restaurant, where I spent three hours waiting for him.  He finally called me to say something had come up and he wouldn’t be home for dinner.  “Sara, why would you keep something like that from me? We should celebrate, let’s do dinner tonight.” I look at my husband, his brown hair perfectly styled to perfection, his brown eyes don’t seem so cold in this moment, and even his body language is relaxed.  For a moment, I’m hoping he’ll hug me or kiss me like it used to be.

“Sure,” I answer. When he’s focused on me, I can remember the way it was when we first got married. The gifts, the shower of affection, but when his phone rings, my heart sinks.

“Hello?  Mariah, calm down, I can’t understand what you're saying,” Zander says softly into his phone.  I can hear muffled sounds of sobs coming through.  “I’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone and looks at me.  “Mariah had an accident, and I need to go help her at the hospital. Can I get a rain check? I promise we’ll celebrate another time.”

“Of course, go help her,” I answer. He turns and rushes out the door. Funny, my work and I called him about me being in the hospital, and he couldn’t be bothered to come see me, but she calls and he goes running.  I’m done caring, and I’m done being hurt by him.