Too Late For Regrets: No Longer Your Invisible Wife

Nadia 

It was my 30th birthday that day when  I hoped my husband and my step children would at least remember that this day was a little bit out of the ordinary.

But I could only dream… I am not certain of when I became invisible in my own home. 

It happened slowly, until one morning I woke up and realized that no one looked at me anymore. 

No one spoke to me unless they needed something. No one wondered where I was or what I was doing or if I was even still there.

On my birthday morning , I stood at the kitchen counter and arranged breakfast on three plates and told myself it did not matter. 

I told myself that love was quiet and patient. 

That love was making eggs the way Lucas liked them,  cutting strawberries the way Isabella preferred and pouring coffee the way Damian drank it. 

Love was doing all of this without being asked and without being thanked. 

That was what I told myself. I had been telling myself that for six years.

I straightened my back at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. 

Lucas walked into the kitchen first. He was tall for thirteen, with his father's jaw and his father's way of looking past me instead of at me.

"Good morning, my love," I said. "Did you sleep well?"

Lucas pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. He did not answer me.

I placed his plate in front of him. "I made your eggs soft, the way you like them."

He picked up his fork. "Okay," he said. 

It was the only word he gave me. One word, spoken to the eggs and not to me, and then he pulled out his phone and started scrolling. I stood there and waited for more, but more did not come.

No happy birthday to me.

Isabella came down next. She was still in her pajamas, her hair tangled in the back.

"Good morning, sweetheart," I said. "You need to get dressed soon. We are leaving in forty minutes."

She ignored me. 

She walked to the table and looked at her plate and made a face. "You cut them wrong," she said, pointing at the strawberries. "I told you last time that I hate them cubed. Why do you never listen?"

"I am sorry," I said quickly. "You are right. I forgot. Let me fix them."

"No," she said, and pushed the plate away. "I am not even hungry anymore."

She pulled out her phone the same way Lucas had. 

They sat across from each other, both of them staring at their screens, and I stood at the counter and watched them and felt the smile on my face go stiff. I did not stop smiling. 

I was their mother. 

This was just what children did. Children were ungrateful sometimes. It did not mean they did not love you.

Damian came down at seven. 

He was already in his suit, already on his phone, and already speaking in that clipped voice he used for work. He ended the call as he walked into the kitchen and he did not say good morning to me. He sat down and I placed his coffee in his right hand.

"Black, no sugar," I said quietly.

He grunted instead. 

He was reading something on his screen. His brows were furrowed. I stood there for a moment and waited. 

I thought about how today was a special day but I did not want to be the one to say it. I wanted someone else to say it first. I wanted someone to remember.

But no one remembered.

"Damian," I said. My voice came out softer than I meant it to.

"What?" He did not look up.

"Nothing," I said. "Just have a good day."

He did not answer. I walked back to the counter, picked up my coffee with both hands and I held it against my chest and I told myself that it was fine. 

It was all fine.

The morning passed in the way mornings always passed. 

I drove the children to school. Neither of them spoke to me in the car. When I dropped them at the gate,  Isabella did not say goodbye and Lucas was already walking away before I had even fully stopped the car. I sat there and watched them disappear into the crowd of uniforms and I felt something heavy settle in my stomach.

I cleaned the kitchen and spoke to the gardener about the roses. I answered emails, did all the things I always did, and I did them alone.

At two o'clock, I was in the hallway folding the laundry when I saw Margaret, our maid, come out of Lucas's room. She was holding his small overnight bag and she was moving quickly.

"Margaret," I said. "What is that for?"

She stopped. 

Her eyes flicked up to mine and then away. "There has been a call, ma'am. From the school. Lucas fell during sports and Isabella was with him when it happened."

I felt my whole body go still. "What? Are they hurt? Why did no one call me?"

Margaret's face tightened. "Mr. Damian called the house phone, ma'am. He said to tell you not to worry."

"Not to worry?" I heard my voice rise and I did not try to stop it. "They are my children. Of course I am going to worry. Why would he not call my phone directly?"

Margaret did not answer. She held the overnight bag tighter against her chest and she looked at the floor.

"Margaret," I said slowly. "What is it? What are you not telling me?"

She swallowed. "Mr. Damian said to tell you that their mother is already with them."

The words hung in the hallway between us. 

Their mother is already with them. I heard the words very clearly and I understood them very clearly and for a moment I did not move at all.

"Their mother," I repeated. My voice was not my own. "You mean Simone."

Margaret nodded. "Yes, ma'am. She was called first. She is at school now. Mr. Damian said you should not trouble yourself."

I did not say anything. I could not say anything. I stood there in the hallway with a stack of folded towels in my arms and I felt the floor tilt underneath me.

Their mother?

But I was their mother.