Page 5 of The Reluctant Hero

Wow. Thanks. It’s my first time getting a divorce,Gloria. Please don’t give me a C minus on this pop quiz.

“If she hasn’t taken these first steps, she might be willing to talk things over with her husband. Don’t pressure her one way or the other. It might affect your friendship.”

“Uh-huh,” I answer brainlessly. Do I want to talk to him? Fuck no. I don’t want to know what reasons he’ll come up with because I can already imagine them.

Our relationship has gotten stale. I’ve gained weight and become unattractive. Our sex life is dull. A million things that will be all my fault.

Not that he’s having a hard time getting it up. Or that he’s gotten so damn lazy he can’t be bothered with more than a delivery of flowers and one date after a year of bland kisses on the cheek goodbye. The fact that he spends more time with his buddies, going golfing and playing poker every spare second. He couldn’tpossiblybe a problem.

It suddenly hits me howaloneI’ve been in my marriage and for how long.

“Is that everything? I need to go,” she says in a kind tone that rubs me the wrong way. I’m pissed off. She should be pissed off by proxy, not having a wonderful morning.

“Ok, bye,” I sing out and hang up. I’ve never done that to her before, but it’s too late now.

I need a lawyer. One from out of town. Justin knows almost every lawyer around Ander Springs. His golfing has netted him a lot of contacts. Not that he needed them, being as rich as he is. I knew marrying into money was a mistake. Scratch that, myparentsknew, and I didn’t listen. I was too busy thinking how wonderful he was to see common sense.

The next county is only thirty minutes away. I make it there in fifteen. I’m lucky I haven’t gotten pulled over yet. Justin knows a lot of cops, too.

I find a lawyer’s office and walk in for a free consultation.

The mind-numbing questions make my anger take a backseat. The pain has come back tenfold. This informative meeting is bringing the reality of what I’m going through into focus.A lot of planning and manipulation goes on with a divorce. I’m going to fail that pop quiz.

We share a checking and savings account that I’m suddenly afraid to touch. He’s always taken care of everything, my money merging with his to pay bills I never see. How will he pay the mortgage if I take anything out?

I want to slap myself for the thought, but guilt has taken the helm of this ship. Logic tries to intervene. He’s rich. I doubt he would notice if some money went missing. Then sorrow hits again with its good friend, self-pity.

Thisismy fault. Even if I figure out what I did, there's nothing I can do about it. It’s done. Over. There’s no way that I can look like Annette with her slim waistline and long legs. She can even wear heels every day without complaint to make her ass look good. At least I have bigger boobs.

I leave the lawyer’s office feeling sick to my stomach again. I couldn’t tell her that he cheated. It seemed too shameful to admit to a stranger. Not to mention, it would be my word against his. I can’t see him admitting to it. He’d have to say goodbye to his precious money then, not that I want any of it.

In thirty minutes, she laid out a set of rules to protect myself, which I’m not sure I can do.

Drain the bank account? Take the savings? I’m pissed, sure, but is that something I want to live with? What kind of monster takes away the ability to live in comfort?

A smart one, that’s who.

My card gets declined when I try to get a late breakfast at a drive-thru, and when I call the bank to find out what happened, I find that he’s already done it. He took everything and created a new account. They can’t close it until I come in and sign off on the old account, but his name has been removed from everything.

He took it all.

All but the savings account inmyname that I kept a secret from him. Something I did to surprise him when I had enough for us to take a trip that he’s been wanting to go on forever but never could find the time. I wanted to show him that he isn’t the only person that can pay for things. I wanted to spoil him a little.

Lucky me. Now, I can prove it in a completely unexpected way instead.

But I can’t leave town.

I have to stay here until a settlement is reached, or he can cry abandonment. I didn’t think that would be a serious concern, but the account being closed so quickly is a wake-up call. I bet he was on the phone first thing this morning with his best friend, a damnlawyer, to find out what he should do.

That means I have to play this smart and not give him any more advantages over me. At this point, this is a game of pride that I refuse to lose. I don’t care that he took his money. It’sminethat pisses me off. He can keep his highbrow hundreds and leave my five-dollar bills alone. Greedy, narcissistic asshole.

I have to return the car because he could report it stolen since it’s in his name alone. I can’t stay in the same residence as him, not that I want to at this point, or any separation paperwork would be dismissed in court. I can’t take most of my things out of the house, or he can say I abandoned him. The list goes on and on.

I’m stuck here withnothing.

I return the car and pack a bag with some of my old clothes, leaving the rest after a long look. When did I start only buying the things he approved of? I don’t like what I’m seeing now that I have an unfiltered view of my life. The chic dresses and fancy shoes. When did this become me? I’ve always been a blue jeans and loose shirt kind of girl. Comfort over flash. When did that stop?

The jeans are old enough that I can barely get them over my hips. The shirt is tight over my stomach and chest, but it’s long enough to cover the too-tight pants I can’t button up. My old ratty sneakers still fit, though. I enjoy wrenching everything off their hangars and leaving a mess behind.

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