My husband left me for a younger woman. Does it hurt? I will just mimic a laugh. The pain is numbing – if that feeling is even possible. For real, I can’t feel anything except that I am spinning and like losing control of my life. I often wonder where I went wrong. And I blame myself for that, at first. He left me and is making a family with her, a woman whom he met at a gambling place, who also happens to be 20 years fresher than me.
I heard he bought her a condo unit in Malibu. She must be high maintenance since Malibu condos are like $1.7M at this time, a tiny 2-bedroom unit, that is, and I won’t complain. I can’t complain. My house is huge with eight bedrooms and ten toilet and baths. I only have two kids, one of them is in boarding school, a thousand miles away from me. My eldest is leading his own life in New York. I have a housemaid, a gardener, and a driver. My trainer comes every day, and I also have cello lessons every two days. He is paying for all of it. He even increased my allowance twice the amount when I caught him with this woman.
Is it right that I can’t complain? My mind says I have to feel bad. It means I have to fight back, but something inside me is telling – you have it all, why stress yourself with him? I am rich, partly because of him and it’s marital property. I have three cars, all almost brand new. My walk-in closet is a 60-square foot room filled with designer bags, customized gowns, and dresses in signature brands, and the latest shoes. I should be happy, but am I? I’m not, that’s because my husband never really saw my worth, and that makes me hurt but numb at the same time. I didn’t know it was possible.
As I walk to the lanai connecting my large bedroom, I look over the beautiful view, a horizon, while remembering the words my lawyer told me earlier: “Lena, Robert is very generous on this one. He is giving you the house and everything in it – the diamonds, pearls, gold bar and gold jewelry, the bags, shoes and furniture, all of it, the three cars and a new car every 2 years to replenish the old one, primary custody of Bobby Jr. which means child support payments coming up and a 10% stake in his multi-million business, apart from your allowance up until you remarry. I suggest you take it. It’s not gonna get any better than this, Len.”
Is it that easy to decide a 25-year marriage? Robert was a struggling salesman when I met him. I am pretty sure that I was a big part of his success and is all that equal to 10% business stake and a $8M home? Am I asking for too much? What if what I want is Robert? I don’t care about the money and the properties. I just want Robert.
But then again, Robert doesn’t want me. He wants her, the 25-year-old bimbo who used to work in a casino, flaunting her boobs and ass. That’s what Robert wants and what Robert wants, Roberts gets. My youth is behind me, and I even gave him two sons. I was faithful, loyal and devoted. I was once beautiful and young too, but Robert must have forgotten about that now. He had forgotten that I once shared a double bed with him when we had nothing. He has forgotten that I once shared a meal with him, a meal suitable for one person, but we shared it since we had nothing. But why now, when we have everything, I still have nothing? I don’t have Robert. Robert left me for her. She has everything now while I have nothing.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to enjoy the summer breeze here in LA. Even if Robert is not here, I must try to survive. I must try to move on. I must go and live my life. I wiped the tears, and I called Ellen, my lawyer. “Ellen, tell Robert I accept. Send the papers, and I’ll sign them.” I can’t even talk to Robert directly. He’s barred me from communicating with him after the confrontation we had when I caught him with her in his office.
I look at my Louis Vuitton pajamas, my Chanel slippers, the Mikimoto pearls on my neck, and picked up my Ostrich skin Hermes Birkin bag. Inside my bag, I have my Amex, my checks and a wad of cash. I took my phone and dialed my son’s number. He answered after the first ring. “Mom, it’s going to be okay, you hear me? I’m almost home. I know what happened. I am here for you, mom. I’m coming home.” And that was it. I burst in tears as my son entered the house and hugged me tightly.