Coming Around Again Read Online Free Page B

was happening to Stella. She’d
just met the One . Some sleepy-eyed bloke called Henry. He sounded like a
right barrel of laughs. Reclining on her cloud of love, Stella fully doubted
that Eden would display objectivity–or rather for Stella’s bruised and battered
ego, female solidarity.
    “Okay, well, Stella, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
    “Why? He’s saying I was emotionally unavailable. That I eliminated him
from my life. That I, me, his wife, made him feel unwanted and unable to meet
my expectations of him and our family. Is he fucking joking?”
    Eden once again pleaded for calm as the rush of fury began to sweep
Stella into a second wave of frenzy. The minute the papers arrived, she became
a tornado of emotion, spitting bile and bursting into tears. In black and white
for the world to see—her husband’s damning assessment of their marriage.
Everyone would see. The humiliation competed with grief, shaking her from the
inside out.
    “There’s no such thing as a no-fault-based divorce in this country. It’s
just a matter of who gets in there first to push the blame.” Her friend gazed
at her with sympathy. “When did you two stop talking?” Stella immediately
opened her mouth to launch a full-on Iraq War protest, but had to stop.
    She couldn’t say. But then again, Stella had never been the type of
woman to wait around for things to be done. If a tap leaked, she’d get out her
own tools and tighten it. She arranged their mortgage payments, building
insurance, and dental insurance for their children. It fell to her to remember
when their cars needed their tax renewal, joint insurance to be paid.
Mattresses? Flipped. Cleaning? One hired, twice a week, to meet Niels’ exacting
standards. Fridge stocked with everything and anything he and his refuse sack
sons wanted? Naturally.
    What did she need him for? They didn’t talk. Even if he began to talk,
she felt instantaneously resentful. He didn’t understand how exhausted she
nearly always was. The boys ran her ragged. Work drained her, physically and
mentally. Every day. In the midst of a recession, she dragged clients in with
promotions and discounts, to make up numbers and to keep her staff intact. Each
word felt like a criticism. Avoiding talking altogether seemed the best way to
sidestep arguments. Not as an excuse to hand in her “wife” card and privileges.
    “Do you remember the last time you asked him how his day was?”
    “Well that’s not a reason to divorce me! I was in labour with his sons
and heirs for twenty-three hours, I don’t owe him a how’s your day darling ! ”
    Eden twisted her lips. “I’ll be honest with you. The majority of
marriages I deal with are people who married on the spur of the moment and they
realise two, five, ten years down the line that they have nothing in common
with the person they married. The worst of it starts from that very same point.
Do you know what it means for someone, your spouse, the person who promised to
love you in sickness and health, to ask you the simplest of questions that
shows you give a goddamn and a half? The world, Stel.”
    Oh God. Oh good God.
    “If they don’t even care about the eight to ten hours you spend away
from them, or if very simply if you’re okay, then what’s the point? If they
don’t care if you’ve had a client rage at you, or a business deal fall through,
or if you’ve monumentally fucked up and they don’t want to share the bad with
you, then why are you married? If you break everything down to a point score—I
did the dishes, so I’m not making the bed. I had the children, so we’re square
for eternity. I’ve worked since before I could walk, so I don’t owe you a
thing—then that’s not a marriage. It’s a war zone. I wouldn’t expect anyone to
live like that, I know that man, Stel. He loves you to bits and pieces. I can
only think it’s a last straw thing.”
    Stella’s gaze travelled between Eden’s sympathy-filled ones to the
divorce