move out within the week. Where is the light?”
“He thinks you’re his employee!” she said between giggles.
I didn’t say anything. I just glared at her across the table.
“You deserve a vacation,” she mocked. “Don’t hesitate to email if you have any further questions. That guy is a real piece of work. It’s hysterical!”
She was right. His email sounded like he was talking to a business client, not his wife! That’s what I was to him, wasn’t I? When I’d called myself a Trophy Wife in the past, I’d always thought of it as a cutesy term. It wasn’t until I read the email that I realized it wasn’t cute at all for your husband to think of you as an employee or business prospect. All this time I’d thought he loved me, but I was just his maid, his cook, his personal assistant and his call girl!
“Open up that document so we can get a look at these numbers,” Hope said.
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that attachment. I clicked a button on my Blackberry to open the document. Hope and I put our heads together from opposite ends of the table and both watched and waited while the hourglass spun around and around and then, finally, the document opened. It was a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo, so I scanned quickly looking for numbers.
It was right about the same time when we both saw it, the “offer,” so to speak. Her mouth was hanging open in shock. My eyeballs probably looked like they were about to fall out of my head and onto the table. No, no that can’t be right. There must be a mistake!
Hope ordered a bottle of red wine while I tried to remain composed, even though my world was crumbling around my feet like the debris following a natural disaster. But this wasn’t a hurricane, tornado or earthquake. This was just my greedy, arrogant bastard of a soon-to-be ex-husband ruining my life!
Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. Blow it out like cigarette smoke. Try not to hyperventilate. Feel your body relax with every breath.
I had seen a hypnotist in my quest to quit smoking, and I tried to practice the calming techniques she taught me. I also tried to channel my inner yogi, whatever it took to get my composure back, so I could figure out what the hell I was going to do with that .
I felt dizzy and sick again.Was it possible for someone to have two panic attacks in the same day? I prayed the waiter hurried with the wine. And if he brought a shot of tequila with him, too, that’d be great.
The waiter arrived and I tried to stop the restaurant from spinning while he opened the wine bottle and poured us each a glass. I kind of heard Hope order a few appetizers, but her voice sounded like I was hearing it from under water. I wasn’t at all hungry, either. At least not for food. More so for revenge.
“Let’s not panic,” she said.
I looked at her and blinked a few times, trying to make her less blurry. I must have had tears in my eyes. I took a drink of my wine. A big drink.
“We now know,” she said slowly, “without a doubt, that he is a complete ass, and this divorce is the best thing for you.”
I now agreed with her that this was for the best because the only way I could imagine putting my arms around Caleb again would be if I were squeezing every last bit of life out of him.
She had my Blackberry in her hand and was reading over the documents as she spoke. “He is giving you half of his 401k. It’s not much.”
I reached down into my beach bag and pulled out my trusty notebook and pen to take some notes as she continued. “He’s paying for your health insurance for two years, so that’s good.”
Bless his heart , I thought, in that snide insulting way I’d picked up when I was going to school in North Carolina. In my notebook I wrote Access to Drugs .
“He’s paying all of your legal fees, including transportation to and from consultations and court proceedings, and he’s offering to pay a quarter of the tuition costs if you choose to go back to school.”
I wrote Apply at
“He thinks you’re his employee!” she said between giggles.
I didn’t say anything. I just glared at her across the table.
“You deserve a vacation,” she mocked. “Don’t hesitate to email if you have any further questions. That guy is a real piece of work. It’s hysterical!”
She was right. His email sounded like he was talking to a business client, not his wife! That’s what I was to him, wasn’t I? When I’d called myself a Trophy Wife in the past, I’d always thought of it as a cutesy term. It wasn’t until I read the email that I realized it wasn’t cute at all for your husband to think of you as an employee or business prospect. All this time I’d thought he loved me, but I was just his maid, his cook, his personal assistant and his call girl!
“Open up that document so we can get a look at these numbers,” Hope said.
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that attachment. I clicked a button on my Blackberry to open the document. Hope and I put our heads together from opposite ends of the table and both watched and waited while the hourglass spun around and around and then, finally, the document opened. It was a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo, so I scanned quickly looking for numbers.
It was right about the same time when we both saw it, the “offer,” so to speak. Her mouth was hanging open in shock. My eyeballs probably looked like they were about to fall out of my head and onto the table. No, no that can’t be right. There must be a mistake!
Hope ordered a bottle of red wine while I tried to remain composed, even though my world was crumbling around my feet like the debris following a natural disaster. But this wasn’t a hurricane, tornado or earthquake. This was just my greedy, arrogant bastard of a soon-to-be ex-husband ruining my life!
Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. Blow it out like cigarette smoke. Try not to hyperventilate. Feel your body relax with every breath.
I had seen a hypnotist in my quest to quit smoking, and I tried to practice the calming techniques she taught me. I also tried to channel my inner yogi, whatever it took to get my composure back, so I could figure out what the hell I was going to do with that .
I felt dizzy and sick again.Was it possible for someone to have two panic attacks in the same day? I prayed the waiter hurried with the wine. And if he brought a shot of tequila with him, too, that’d be great.
The waiter arrived and I tried to stop the restaurant from spinning while he opened the wine bottle and poured us each a glass. I kind of heard Hope order a few appetizers, but her voice sounded like I was hearing it from under water. I wasn’t at all hungry, either. At least not for food. More so for revenge.
“Let’s not panic,” she said.
I looked at her and blinked a few times, trying to make her less blurry. I must have had tears in my eyes. I took a drink of my wine. A big drink.
“We now know,” she said slowly, “without a doubt, that he is a complete ass, and this divorce is the best thing for you.”
I now agreed with her that this was for the best because the only way I could imagine putting my arms around Caleb again would be if I were squeezing every last bit of life out of him.
She had my Blackberry in her hand and was reading over the documents as she spoke. “He is giving you half of his 401k. It’s not much.”
I reached down into my beach bag and pulled out my trusty notebook and pen to take some notes as she continued. “He’s paying for your health insurance for two years, so that’s good.”
Bless his heart , I thought, in that snide insulting way I’d picked up when I was going to school in North Carolina. In my notebook I wrote Access to Drugs .
“He’s paying all of your legal fees, including transportation to and from consultations and court proceedings, and he’s offering to pay a quarter of the tuition costs if you choose to go back to school.”
I wrote Apply at
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