Not really, of course! You have no social standing. No credit without considerable effort. Little financial security. Unless you are immoral or alcoholic, you have the children with the house and all its responsibilities. So, begin to look around to find the good that came out of the whole dirty business. It must be there! Somewhere!
Mary Ellen, my neighbor, came over last Sunday morning. I remembered at 9 a.m. that her five children had gone off for a weekend (yes, the Mother’s Day weekend of all times) for two glorious fun-filled days at their father’s lake home which was awarded to him in their divorce decree. Poor Mary Ellen, I thought, all alone on Mother’s Day!
I had awakened early that day to the smell of burned pancakes and bacon. I found the pancakes already in the garbage and the bacon still smoldering, but my heart melted when I saw freshly squeezed orange juice plus cantaloupe slices placed in a spiral design on the dining room table, which was set with the silver and china. I was overcome with quiet gratitude. My children cared! That was when I thought of Mary Ellen, alone!
Apologetically I stammered, “Well, there IS one good thing about divorce. I would never have left my dishes in the sink when Bob was home, but I was tired last night and went to bed early with a good book. To heck with the kitchen.”
“You are absolutely right,” She laughed. “Isn’t the freedom of divorce wonderful.” She was just back from vacation, scuba diving in Cozumel and was what I would call, unnaturally refreshed, but deserving, after working a whole year in a bookstore five days a week. She continued, “I used to get all tensed up when it was time for Ted to come home if I didn’t have the house spotless, or a six-course meal ready, or if I happened to still be in my worn-out garden clothes, or even if I’d been out shopping all day. It was the knowing I had to 'be ready' instead of the relaxed way we live now.”
“Of course,” she added, “I still try to keep the house nice and clean for my own self-esteem, and I try to look my best, but at last my life has become my own, even though I work now. I find I am a better mother and a much happier person. The children are happier with the simple meals I prepare and even think it’s a real treat when we have hamburgers or hot dogs. It beats fixing a standing rib roast with all the trimmings. For dessert they are happy with ice cream cones or maybe just a Milky Way. With Ted it had to be cherry pie or the equivalent. I still bake, of course, but never feel compelled to or guilty when I don’t.” As an afterthought, she said, “The kids have their high protein steaks when they go out with Ted!”
I had to get a word in edgewise. “But don’t you think the best thing about being divorced is that your life becomes your own again? You suddenly stop living for 'him', but for yourself.”
“Yes,” she said. “You only see the people you really want to see. You quickly find out who your real friends are. There are no longer 'business' or 'convenience' friends to cope with.”
“Oh, Mary Ellen,” I said. “I went shopping the other day, on my limited budget, of course, and guess what I found on sale? A beautiful dinner gown, bare back, turquoise, which is my best color, and it was marked down from $96.50 to $32.00.”
I ran to get it to show her, happy to have someone admire it.
“It’s absolutely exquisite,” she purred, “good lines, good taste, a real buy. Where will you wear it?” she asked. I wished she hadn’t asked that.
“Lord knows!” I stated flatly. “Maybe I bought it hoping it would change my destiny. I’ll probably wear it to the next Alley Theatre play. I know I should have saved the money for something practical like a knit suit to work in or shoes for the children. Thank goodness summer is coming, and they can go barefoot most of the time. But, Mary Ellen, it gave me the greatest feeling to buy that, and I have only myself to answer to. Can you imagine the reaction I would have gotten from Bob? I can hear him now, “You know it’s not in the budget. How can we go to the Chicago convention if you throw money around like that?” So there! I bought it, if only to admire it myself.”
“Want another cup of coffee?” I asked, after putting the gown back in its plastic bag out of sight. As I poured her cup, I looked out the kitchen window and saw my neighbors across the street on their way to church, a whole family. The father was opening the car door for his wife and children. She was wearing a corsage, and the thought passed through my mind that they would, without a doubt, go out to a fine restaurant for Sunday dinner afterwards. A twinge of jealousy attacked me in the pit of my stomach, but I forced it aside. I knew at once that I wouldn’t be going to church that day. It would be far too painful for me to bear.
While the children were dutifully doing the “Mother’s Day dishes” Mary Ellen and I lounged in the sun outdoors by the pool with our third cups of coffee. Unhappily for me, she returned to the ‘divorce is better’ subject. “Another thing,” she said, “if you want to read in bed until 3 a.m. nobody cares either. And you’re the first to get the morning paper, any section you want. And no more visits from unwanted relatives, including, hopefully, mothers-in-law. You can send the kids with HIM to see her. And I can leave my sewing on the dining room table for a week and nobody cares. And, I can leave my paints out forever, and who cares a whit? I guess that’s what marriage is all about.”
“Caring,” we both said at once.
With that, we each closed our eyes, letting the sun spread its warmth over us. It was too painful to continue the conversation.
The End