For Better or worse
(a modern tale)by
Christa Froese
If someone had told me ten years ago that I would end up being the nervous wreck and bitching wife with a marriage failing apart, I would have said, never, never, never, not us.
But here I sit, miserable and lonely, not daring to mention our situation to our parents or closest friends.
Robert and I met at orientation week, we were assigned to the same shinorama team, a freshman fund-raising event for cystic fibrosis. I felt so lonely being away from home for the first time, and here he was, outgoing, handsome and full of humour. I fell for him right then and there.
"Well, kid, where are you from?"
"Winnipeg," I answered, somewhat insulted that he called me kid.
"That explains why you look so miserable. First time away from home?" I nodded and couldn't hold my tears back.
"Well, well," he said, somehow at a loss what to do with me. "I'm sure, in fact I'll promise this will pass, and in a couple of weeks you'll like Toronto."
"I dunno," I replied. "Are you from around here?"
"Peterborough," he answered.
"At least you can go home on weekends."
'True," he replied. "Why don't we try to get our first customer. I yell and you shine, this way you don't have to look up. And if you feel better, we change."
"Sounds good to me!" As a matter of fact I was very grateful. The day went by fast and we did fill our boxes.
"That wasn't too bad," he said with a big grin when we parted and I thanked him for being so friendly.
Many events and parties took place that first week and, getting to bed in the wee hours of the morning. Needless to say, I was so busy and tired that I hardly had time to be homesick.
Frosh Week was over and classes started. That first Monday morning I felt so miserable and sorry for myself that I had a hard time getting to my first class. Walking over to Trinity College I ran straight into Robert.
"Hi, Kim, how are you? Do you know where you're heading?
"I hope so," I replied.
"Maybe we can meet for coffee after dinner, discuss our first day."
"That sounds great," I answered, inwardly jumping with joy.
From that day on we were a pair, best friends, and very much in love. We were married two years later, against the wishes of both our parents.
"You are too young to get married," they said. 'Wait until you have finished your education!" The more our parents tried to reason with us, the more determined we became.
After graduation, Robert found a job in Calgary working for a big corporation. I too found a job as an interior designer. A year later we bought our first home and, with a baby on the way, we thought no king and queen in their castle could be happier than we were. No cloud was on the horizon. We were envied by friends and our parents were proud of us.
Now, ten years and three children later, the fairy tale has ended. Is it really our fault or are we a mere byproduct of downsizing, outsourcing, restructuring? Mere words that are not even to be found in our dictionary. Who could have predicted the economic mess Canada is in? But being eight months unemployed, our bank account depleted, and our line of credit stretched to the limit, our lives are one big mess.
Not in our wildest dreams did we think this could happen to us; everyone else, perhaps, but not us. After all, there was that part in our wedding vows where we promised each other to take very seriously the words, For better or for worse, for richer and for poorer This was the ultimate test and we failed badly. As a matter of fact, we failed completely!
Nevertheless, I cannot accept alcohol as part of the solution. Robert left last night after the big fight we had. I know how discouraging it is to receive only rejection letters. O.K. I don't deny that I was not happy company to live with for the past six months, but beer and liquor are not what the children need at the onset of winter. How am I to explain to them tonight why their father left us?
A week has passed since Robert went away. The children are coping, for now. At first, I thought of telling them that dad went to Edmonton for a job interview; then I thought it is difficult enough without getting all tangled up in lies. Monika told me she feared something like this was in the air. Didn't I notice that she tried to help by avoiding anyone who would get mad at her? I noticed that I did not have to prod her to do her homework or fight with her to go to bed. We parents think we are so smart and here, my nine-year-old daughter could see right through us.
David took it the hardest as he is very close to his dad. "And he didn't say goodbye to me," was all he muttered. I am very worried about him; he keeps everything inside. He is sleeping in my bed ever since Robert left. Melanie, our baby, is such a ray of sunshine. She trots off to kindergarten smiling, "Don't be sad mama, one day dad will miss us and come home. He wouldn't want to miss my birthday!" How I wish she were right.
This past week I have been on a roller coaster, experiencing every emotion. At first I felt anger, then despair set in. Feeling sorry for myself, I felt totally abandoned but the worst is the loneliness. Every night it hits me. I don't even dare to think what I would do if I did not have the children. How long I will be able to keep it up, I don't know.
The neighbours start to ask questions. "I'm fine," I say. 'Well, dear," said old Mrs. Hamilton, "you look as if you have a lot on your mind. I haven't seen Robert around lately." Now I try to avoid her. Oh, I am so very angry. I crawl around like a thief, but if anything, I am a victim. Not to be able to talk to anybody nearly kills me. With every phone call, I jump, hoping it is Robert and not my mother.
I can't go on like this much longer. The car sits idle because I have no money for gas. Next week I have to make the decision to cancel Monika's piano lesson or beg my mother for money. David's hockey is covered until January, and hopefully things will be settled when Melanie's ballet lessons start after Christmas. Christmas! I totally forgot about Christmas! "It's not fair, it's not fair. Robert, you bastard, you can't just leave me with this mess. They are your children, too. For Christ sake, pleeease come back, I need you..."
This morning when Melanie left, she gave me a great big smile.
"Don't worry mama, he will be back for my birthday."
"Oh, Melanie, you are such a ray of sunshine!" I hope she is right!