While Jennifer was out here attempting to launch a one-woman pity parade, I was tightening things.
I transferred all of our joint subscriptions into my name. I denied her access to everything remaining tied to my accounts. She changed each password as if she were a hacker with something to prove.
I cleaned the house, not only physically, but mentally. She took down old photos, donated the wedding decor she refused to take, and threw out her remaining skincare junk.
And just like that, she was gone. There is no alimony, assets, or power left to swing.
Evelyn once asked me whether I was feeling ill.
I told her no. I feel as if I walked out of a burning building and discovered someone standing there with water.
The divorce is now official.
Jennifer is no longer my wife, legally or otherwise.
To be honest, the moment I received the confirmation call from my lawyer, it felt like a ton of bricks were lifted off my shoulders.
I stood in the center of my kitchen, still wearing work boots, and simply smiled.
I wasn't angry. I was not sad. I was finished.
Life wasn't ideal, but it was finally mine.
Honestly, I could have ended the story there, but of course, Jennifer wasn't finished making things messy. She's never finished.
It was my sister Norah's birthday. Backyard BBQ. Simple things, close friends, family, and meals I produced myself rather than pricey caterers as Jennifer used to urge.
Evelyn was assisting with the decorations. Nora brought her popular potato salad. My cousin Jason was already three burgers deep. Positive vibrations all around.
Then something happened.
Someone from inside cries, Uh, Leo, someone's at the front gate.
I hurry to look and there she is, Jennifer.
She stands at the edge of the yard as if she is returning from exile. Hair done, heels on, and large sunglasses as if she's avoiding photographers. She was holding a present bag. Yes, a friggin gift bag. Probably full of shame and confusion.
Everyone froze. Even the dog became quiet.
I walked over calmly and collected. I wasn't angry. I was amused.
Jennifer, I answered. You're not invited.
She attempted to grin. I just wanted to say hi, maybe talk.
Not the time, not the place, not the guest list.
She removed her sunglasses and went into her classic script. I've been thinking a lot and I just want to give our marriage another chance. I made a mistake.
I nodded. Yeah, we all saw that one coming.
She continued going. I didn't realize what I had until it was gone. And seeing you with Evelyn is not your business anymore.
People were watching. Norah crossed her arms from across the yard.
Jennifer looked about as if she had just realized she was no longer the primary character.
She asks, Can we at least talk in private?
I shake my head. Nope. Whatever you came here to say, save it. You had months. You had chances. You picked someone else. And now you're here because he dumped you and I didn't.
She became quiet. Really quiet.
Then she exclaimed, So, you're just replacing me? Like, it's that easy?
I leaned forward and stated loudly enough for everyone to hear. You replaced yourself the second you gave me permission to stop being your priority.
She attempted to save face. This isn't over. You can't erase everything we had.
I laughed. Jennifer, you erased it. I just swept up the pieces and handed you the broom.
She opened her mouth as if she were about to explode.
But Evelyn went over calm and steady. Didn't say anything. Just stood next to me.
That was sufficient.
Jennifer stared at her as if she were waiting for a big moment.
Evelyn simply tilted her head and stated, You were his past. I am his present and future. So you can leave now.
Jennifer stood there for a second as if she was expecting someone, anyone to defend her. Nobody did.
She went without saying anything else. She walked immediately back through the gate from which she had entered. Gift bag is still in hand.
A minute later, the music resumed. Nora offered me another hamburger as if nothing had occurred.
She passed past and said, Happy birthday to me.
Evelyn and I sat down and she simply gazed at me saying that felt good.
I responded better than winning the lottery.
So that's the story.
Jennifer wanted options. She took them. Then she quickly discovered that love does not come with a backup generator.
She assumed I was weak enough to wait around. She was wrong.
I didn't just get through it. I created something better with someone else.
If anyone reading this is thinking, Maybe I should give them another chance. Don't. Allow them to be someone else's disaster. You've got greater things to look forward to after this. Peace. Real peace.
For the record, Evelyn makes far superior lasagna.