Random snippets of real life drama with an ex-husband who lived to lie and cheat and cover his tracks and situations where he financially, emotionally and physically abused. As in many things in life, the truth was buried…buried deep within the layers of the infamous cheater who we will call Onion Boy (O.B. for short). We will strip away the layers for all to see the loser is not the victim but the man who believes he can lie so well that he will never be caught…
As my pregnancy progressed, so did the dramas that surrounded me. The shenanighans escalated to an undescribable level. So much so, that those few months are an emotional blur. I continued working…no rather, I threw myself into my work. It’s tough when things are so bad that you have to try and emotionally disconnect through your work. I worked late many nights or went in early just to escape the drama that my life had become. I was an emotional basketcase; I’m not ashamed to admit. Not only were the hormones at an all time high; I had a husband for all intents and purposes didn’t want me unless he could have me under his own personal set of rules. He made it to as many of my family functions, which were blessedly few that year, in order to maintain the guise of a caring husband. My parents had been enlightened by his brother some months prior. I think in restrospect this was the only truly decent thing that his family did for me. for in the time after there were no such outreaches of help. There was help offered, don’t get me wrong. But…it was always the kind of help that seemed to have strings attached. I don’t have any problem understanding now, how O.B. could be such a master of the conditional love concept for I believe that is how he grew up and understood that this was an acceptable way to love someone. I’m not sitting here condoning his actions or mine either for that matter, however I’m just stating what became blindingly obvious to me once I began getting some of the facts which were hidden from me at the time. Regardless of the causes or reasons, I felt trapped to comply for the sake of having this man in my life, in whatever capacity.
Work was thankfully busy and for the most part occupied my mind while I was there, until he would call during the day. How many crying jags I had in that washroom, I couldn’t even begin to count. When my labour pains started coming two weeks before my due date, I realized the impact my life and my choices truly made on both the baby and myself. That evening, he announced that he was going to go to volleyball in the east end of the city or so he said at the time, even though I believed I was experiencing contractions. I was visibly upset and his mother said he wasn’t going to go, but instead was coming to the hospital. I laugh now, when I realize that the only woman who really counts in his life is his mother. He complied and after some time had passed we all went to the hospital (he, his mother and his father – if you can imagine). They probably thought either I or he would make a break for it…lol. Five hours later, my beautiful but tiny daughter arrived safe and sound. I can remember nothing but absolute relief that she was here safe and sound. O.B stayed for the delivery and for a brief time afterwards but then went on his way…to where I don’t know and during the duration of my hospital stay, I never saw him again. Oh, I got the standard “long stemmed roses with the I Love You note attached”, probably for the visitors to see and to appease me as well as his guilty conscience. A few days later, I went home leaving my wee one at the hospital, It would be 10 days of back and forth from the hospital from the morning to the evening hours when I would feed her, help the nurses or whatever was needed in her care. I would go home exhausted but elated with the news of the latest weigh-in and how well she was doing. One evening, one of the many nurses that I got to know well, mentioned that my husband had come in the evening before after I had left. What she found strange was the fact that she hadn’t seen him since the night of the delivery and that he had a woman with him. Enraged and absolutely incensed, I called him, for I was sure I knew who the person was that he had brought. I was disgusted at how little I meant to him. He hemmed and hawed and told me that it was a client/friend that he had a meeting with that night and they were nearby. He named her name and I knew the name to be a client…but I also knew in my heart that this was a lie. As it turns out, years later, I found that my gut instinct was right on the mark and he had brought in mistress#1 to see our daughter at the hospital. Why he bothered, I’ll never know. In the almost 17 years since my daughter made her debut, his parenting and involvement in her life has been dismally…dismal.
When his daughter came home, he met me at the hospital. (No doubt because his mother told him he had to be there) Did the obligatory holding of the baby and feeding of the bottle, chatted a little, watched me tuck her in and left saying he had an appointment. What kind of appointment would someone have when they have just brought their firstborn home from the hospital? He came back that night but much later…good ol’ O.B. Whenever there’s a lie, he’s never far away. The truth is a delicate seed that if not given light will never grow to the surface.
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