How does it feel when your wife demands a divorce? Randy finds out. His life undergoes a metamorphosis during the divorce process, as he juggles being a single parent and having lots of sex. Is this the real Randy, or is there more?
This was the beginning. Day one.
My wife of twelve years was standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. Her long brunette hair was pulled back tight, exposing her beautiful angular face and large brown eyes. She had a no-nonsense expression. Her lips were bloodless and thin.
"I want a divorce due to irreconcilable differences," she stated in a monotone. Her entire five-foot-three-inch, lean frame shook with tension. It was as if she was trying to contain her emotions.
I knew I couldn't sweet talk her but reached out with my hand, anyway.
She flinched and shrugged me off, waiting for my answer. My touch, my caress, held no power.
Was it because I'd come home drunk, puking all over the doorstep in the early hours once too often? No, I don't think so.
Was it because I had spent family money on having a good time? I knew she worked hard, but I worked hard as well. Don't I have the right to go out and celebrate? She’d agreed, but I didn't involve her. I had my guy's night out and sometimes—you know—it involved other women. I think she would have forgiven me even that. She did, but not the fact I've spent thousands of our hard-earned dollars and decimated our savings…yes, that's the real reason.
I recalled that moment so many months ago when it had started.
"It's a family investment," I’d said.
Gabby forced a laugh. "You're kidding." She could see I wasn't. "I disagree. No, don't do it."
I did. If only I'd listened and discussed it with her as a couple. I only saw the upside potential. Who cared about risk? She was being negative, pulling me down when my spirit wanted to soar. I ignored her and invested…no, spent the money.
* * * * *
The trouble started so innocently, with an accident of fate. The mail arrived early one day, and I was in the bathroom. I can still visualize her face when she opened the envelope and read the credit card statement…the look of horror and dismay. I'd violated her trust.
Gabby shouted, "The mail's arrived. There's a credit card bill I don't recognize."
No, she'll rip it open without thinking and see the credit balance. I ran out of the bathroom, but I was too late and watched her body go taut. She's discovered my deception.
"It's not what you think. You know it's work stuff, and I'll be reimbursed next month," I lied, trying to fob her off. It worked—or so I thought.
The truck was a different story. It was harder to hide. I couldn't risk parking it away from the house, especially after I'd spent thousands of dollars tailoring it to my business.
I was running late. The doorbell rang. Darn it, they're early. I heard the door slam and Gabby stormed into the bedroom. "What's going on? I meant to ask you last night about the truck. Who's the guy at the door asking for you?"
"Remember my business idea from a few months ago—"
"Yes, the one I told you not to do."
"You have to spend money to make money. It'll work. I promise…I just know." Why can't she see?
Family all sided with her, even mine. Am I the only one with vision? That's the real reason she wants a divorce. I've lost all credence and spent our children's college fund. To me…it's an investment…and a good one. To her…it's simply frivolous spending.
I tried. We spent two years on marriage counseling. I was very good at telling the mediators what they wanted to hear. I sounded so sincere but had no intentions of following through. I'm sure I could sell ice to an Eskimo and get top dollar. I even attended AA for my so-called drinking problem. I knew I could handle it. Two DUIs in three years means nothing…not to mention collapsing in the garden, or all the days I missed work because I was too ill to get out of bed.
I'm not a drunk…I might be a social drinker…but who isn't?
I'm great with the kids and make sure I'm good in front of them. They're still young. Clair’s the eldest, she's eleven. Dawn's eight and Jane is seven. I've always done my share, getting up in the night, preparing the meals, taking the kids to softball or ballet. If I hadn't done that and more, Gabby wouldn't have been able to go back to college to get her masters. Her career’s taken off since she graduated, and she's now a second-line manager in line for the big West Coast’s VP position. She earns more than I do, but never spends anything…I don't understand the problem. We have plenty of money. Why not use it?
