Read Chapter 7 “Playdates”
Once a month “we”, by that I mean I, organise a networking event in our house. Jim came up with this neat idea years ago when his business was just a startup.
Instead of going out weekly or even daily (BC – before children) to network, we decided to invite people to our house once a month. I thought it was a splendid idea, and as a supportive wife, I was all for it until the networking event became my thing. According to Jim, he couldn’t do anything more than he was already doing and couldn’t also be in charge of organising the party. He already had too much on his plate as it was.
Unwilling, I became the sole organiser of the monthly networking event that my “beloved husband” is a sole beneficiary of.
It takes me about a month to get the party-ready. First of all, I need to track all the guests we want to invite. I try to rotate the guest list, so it’s not the same people every time; I design or sometimes hand-make the invitations myself, I set the menu and the drinks list as well as come up with exciting ideas to keep the kids busy and occupied while the parents talk.
Oh, did I say that the budget for those get-togethers is tiny? To save money, I usually do all the cooking and baking myself; it takes me days to have all the food ready. Looking after the kids, the house, the school community and be the head of the networking party for Jim has become my reality.
At first, I didn’t mind; I wanted to be involved in his business, and I’ve always been very proud of his achievements. But the circumstances have changed so dramatically that I’m finding it hard to muster the strength to get anything done for that bloody party.
You will never believe what happened!
Yesterday morning Jim refused to help me pick up the food for the party and to rearrange our living room for the event. He announced that he was too tired and needed to relax a bit more before all the guests started arriving.
Last weekend he promised the girls to take them bike riding to the park today. But of course, he made some lame excuse for not doing that too, which made me mad beyond mad and the girls very sad.
As an emergency, I asked Kiara if she could look after the girls. While talking to her, I could feel that under the surface, I was fucking boiling.
I’ve been patient; I’ve waited for only God knows what to happen. But after not seeing the girls for a week, he couldn’t even find a couple of hours for them? That was unacceptable!!!
I dropped the girls with Kiara, who as always was kind and understanding; then I went to pick up the party food. Two weeks ago I decided to indulge myself and overspend on food for a change. I ordered every single item from Waitrose. As I was putting the food in the car, somehow I swung one of the boxes, and my car keys flew few stores down landing somewhere in the bushes. Having no other choice, I unpacked all the food and went to look for the car keys. Of course, I couldn’t find them.
I called Jim. At first, he didn’t pick up the phone. Then I called again, and he turned my call off. When I was on my way up, Jim called. I picked up the phone, but all I could hear was her fucking high-pitched shroud voice, which I would even recognise from Mars.
That very moment something broke in me. He didn’t want to take his kids to the park but had no problems spending the morning with her? What kind of person does that?
I called mini-cab. The driver was kind enough to help me put all the food inside and helped me carry the food back to the house. I tipped him generously.
Once I got home, I called Kiara and told her what happened. She suggested that the girls stay for the sleepover. After putting the phone down, I instantly felt sad thinking about the past fifteen years and how little that meant to Jim. I left all the unpacked and unwrapped food on the kitchen table. The first guests were supposed to arrive in two hours. Jim still wasn’t home.
I jumped in a shower before getting ready for a night out. Jim got home half an hour before the party was meant to start.
When he came upstairs, I was writing. He looked at me and was about to say something, but I got in first.
– “I want separation, and I want you to move out tomorrow the latest.”
– “Why is the food not ready?” – he ignored me, completely ignored me. “You know I’ve been crazed all day for you and the girls.”
– “Oh, have you?” – I passed him the phone, showing him the time and the length of his butt call. “I guess Christina is one of your clients now, right?”
– “I…I…” he started, but I didn’t let him finish. I was done being the “good wife”.
– “You have until tomorrow to get the fuck out of my house. Have an awesome party.” I said and banged the bedroom door behind.
I took the train to London, and in twenty minutes I was standing in the middle of Charing Cross wondering what to do next.
I decided to have a drink and dinner on my own before booking a hotel room. Kiara re-assured me that the girls were doing fine and didn’t suspect anything.
Of course, Christina attended the party. And how I know this? She fucking posted the pictures from my house and my garden all over her bloody Instagram. I will either have to burn down the house or redecorate.
He didn’t text or call me even once to find out where we were. This is how a marriage ends with no champagne, no flowers or china patterns.
I made Jim tell the girls that he was moving out and why. He wanted to talk to me and explain, but I said ‘no’. Everything has happened so fast that I’m still digesting my bravery. In all honesty, I didn’t think I had it in me.
Now I need to focus on my girls and finding a job that could support the three of us.