Page 10 of Two Wrongs
Fin’s gaze narrows briefly, but she thankfully keeps her eyes on the road. She knows me well enough to realise I’m deflecting, but she just doesn’t know the depths I’ll take it to. Deflect. Distract. Divert. I’ll do all these to prevent burdening her with my problems. And yes, I also don’t want to admit to being a big fat liar pants, even if I am keeping so many secrets my head hurts.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I add in a softer tone, though still feeling like a complete bitch. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘I just don’t see why you didn’t get a lawyer involved. This contract bullshit seems very... well, bullshitty.’
‘Trust me,’ I reply, turning back to the passenger window. ‘This is the best way. The only way.’
‘But the best way to what? That’s what I don’t understand. I know I’ve been a mess the past few months, but don’t think I haven’t noticed... noticedyou.’
I slide her a withering look, my responding tone flat. ‘There’s nothing going on, so you can stop with the conspiracy theories.’
‘Theories,’ she repeats, her tone contemplative. ‘How’s this? I theorize a guy’s at the bottom of this flight.’
And not for the first time today, my best friend is right.
My husband lies at the bottom of this shit pile. Yeah, the secret one. The reason I’ve maxed out my credit card on a flight to LA. Money I could’ve spent on other things like stock or equipment. Or a one-way ticket to Baghdad...
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why couldn’t he have signed the divorce papers months ago—when I was more angry than sad. Why does he have to twist everything to please himself?
I thought I could do this from Scotland. I didn’t expect amicably, exactly, but with distance. Clean and simple and without any more unnecessary hurt. I can’t face any more upset, yet he serves me just that.
The fucking video.
It’s now clear the video being out there on the interwebz is no mistake. The flash drive and his personal letter cleared that up pretty swiftly.What a complete shit. He sends me a letter made to look like it’s from his lawyer—it might have been from their law offices, but it made no reference to our marriage or divorce—with demands made in the vaguest terms.
A vague instruction on letterhead.
A letter in his hand.
A flash drive containing a fuck tonne of manipulation.
I can’t even begin to contemplate—it almost makes me wish hewasgetting married to that singing splinter. And his note wasn’t so much a letter as an exercise in sarcasm. With a side order of nastiness.
Thanksso much for the divorce papers. Really.
I so appreciated the personal touch.
And speaking of personal, you’ll see I’ve included something along the same lines. Did you happen to see my new release last week? I deliberated long and hard—just how you like it, babe. It was your favourite, right?
We looked good. Fun times. Almost like old times.
So. You want a divorce. But here’s the thing; like the song says, that’s not always possible.
See, I didn’t choose this for us.
And I didn’t expect my wife to fucking disappear overnight.
So you want a divorce, and I have a fuck tonne of questions.
I have stipulations and shit to yell. And you’re gonna meet my demands, or the next tape is showing your sweet fucking face.
Time to come home, baby girl. You have until Sunday.
And this isthe type of man I’m flying back to today.
I’d always believedthat the events in our life shape us. That who we are is shown by how we react to those events; how we respond to happenstance, to circumstance. We choose to rise to those challenges or else... we don’t. Well, that’s what I’d believed. And I’d always thought that, faced with a trial or adversity, I’d do the right thing because the alternative was inconceivable. Only abad personwould choose the opposite.
I now see that was inexperience talking because I’ve since been on the other side. I’ve done the wrong thing. But one bad decision—one mistake, one something you said or didn’t say—doesn’t make you a bad person.
