Torn Between Me and His Ex
The year my son, Charlie Pattison, turned seven, my husband, Jim Pattison, stopped hiding it.
He brought a poor mother and her son into our world without a shred of shame. Word got around fast, and no shortage of people came sniffing for gossip, eager to watch me fall apart. I swallowed my pride and said nothing.
Then that woman's son slapped Charlie at school.
That was the last straw. I told Charlie to hit him back.
That night, Jim—who hadn't set foot in our house in a month—showed up out of nowhere. Charlie burst into tears of joy and threw his arms open to run to him.
What he got in return was a slap across the face.