The nurse had just handed me my baby, and it was supposed to be a magical moment, you know, like the one every new mother tells you it should be, but at the time, I could barely keep my eyes open. My entire body ached and I felt like I had been ran over by a train. Honestly, I even felt a bit disappointed in myself for feeling that way. The room still had that sharp, sterile smell of a delivery ward, my hands were shaking from the adrenaline, and I was so exhausted that all I wanted right there and then was a hand to hold.
When I looked over at Daniel, however, it was clear he didn’t even occupy the same planet as I did at that point. He sat there staring into the bluish glow of his cell phone screen, mindlessly scrolling.
I just watched silently for a few minutes as his thumb was in motion. After a while, he placed his mobile in his pocket and stood up, rattling with his car keys in his hands. No peck on the cheek; no, he simply stood near the door and announced, “Listen, tomorrow morning, you’ll be discharged. You will have to take the bus back home. I’m taking my family out for hotpot tonight to celebrate.”
I smiled because I though he was joking, or at least hallucinating, because who in their right mind would say something like that moments after his baby was welcomed into the world?
“What did you just say?” I asked.
Well, before he could even answer, there she was, his mother Elaine. She stormed into the room straight from the hallway. What was most devastating of all, I guess, is that she didn’t even look for the baby. She just stood there with her hands on her hips. “Claire, for God’s sake, don’t make a scene,” she said, shaking her head. “Your home is right next door to the hospital. It’s a quick run. There’s no need for Daniel to skip out on celebrating with his family just to take you ten minutes down the road.”
I looked at her, then back at my husband. “Elaine,” I said, “I gave birth six hours ago. I can barely walk to the bathroom.”
Daniel just shrugged. “My parents came all this way,” he said, as if talking to a five-year-old. “We already booked the table. You really expect us to cancel because you’re tired? It’s a celebration for the baby, Claire. You should be happy we’re excited.”
And then his sister, Melissa, came in. Not even bothering to take her eyes off of her own cell phone, she said, “Women have babies all the time, Claire. It’s no longer an emergency. Get a grip.”
As I glanced at the trio, I noted their finery – Daniel’s brand new button down shirt, and Elaine, wearing her pearls. They all seemed to be prepared for some fancy occasion. Meanwhile, I stood there in my blood-splattered hospital gown, cradling my baby in my arms.
The keys in Daniel’s hands were the keys to the SUV I had purchased. It was the vehicle that he used each day.
“Daniel,” I asked, one last time. “You’re really leaving us here?”
He walked over, leaned down, and lowered his voice. “Don’t look at me like I’m the villain,” he muttered. “You should be grateful my family even accepted you after everything. Don’t ruin this night with your moods.”
“After everything.” It was his catchphrase. You see, Daniel’s family thought of me as a poor soul who could use some help since I was an unassuming and uncaring individual who does not give a damn about designer brands.
What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t just an employee at a firm; I owned the majority of it.
That company was created by my mother and handed down to me. My net worth would be enough to purchase an entire neighborhood where they lived, yet I kept things low-key.
Or, at least, I believed I had. In recent months, I had begun to notice some differences in our accounts. Thousands here, tens of thousands there. It was after the due date I’d found that Daniel had been using my personal business accounts as his private piggy bank to pay off gambling debts and “work trips,” which were actually trips to Las Vegas with his buddies. Again, he thought I was too “traditional” or too “stupid” to notice.
Elaine approached my diaper bag, took out the blanket that my grandmother had hand-knitted, and put it back. “Cheap,” she commented. “We’ll get him real things when he grows up if this child is really one of us.”
It was then that my marriage died completely. I wasn’t feeling sad anymore; rather, an icy clarity dawned on me. Daniel gave the baby a quick, half-hearted kiss and left the room. “I’m going to celebrate today.”
There was complete silence after he closed the door. Without wasting a minute, I picked up my mobile phone and dialed two people whom Daniel did not even know worked for me.
First, I contacted my lawyer, Martin. “Daniel has just left,” I told him, trying to sound as calm as possible. “He’s told me that I should get the bus tomorrow. Lock down all his accounts immediately. Put in place any necessary emergency financial restraining orders tonight. Have the passwords for the house changed and the keys to the car withdrawn.”
“You got it,” said Martin.
While Daniel and his family enjoyed the dinner at the restaurant posting pictures that said “Family First,” their lives were falling apart right before their eyes. I observed their photos posted on Instagram: Elaine smiling, Daniel lifting a glass. No wife. No child. I even saved their texts that had been exchanged months ago where Elaine had instructed me to transfer ownership of the house to Daniel in order to “prove I was a good wife.”
At exactly 8:15 PM, I got a notification from our banking app. An attempt to use the joint card: Declined. Then another. Then the remote link to the SUV was severed.
As soon as that happened, my phone started buzzing. It was Daniel calling me. Four rings, and then I picked up the phone.
“Claire!” he hissed, “What’s going on here? They keep declining all my cards!”
“Sounds weird,” I replied. “Why don’t you go talk to the bus driver? They are very reliable, you know?”
“Just stop joking around and help!”
“But I didn’t break it, Daniel,” I explained. “It’s just that I’m not going to pay anymore for a life you haven’t earned. I have made my choice, tonight. Eat it up because it’s the last thing of mine that you’ll ever get your greedy little hands on.”
They all came into my room the next morning. They had clearly not been sleeping. Daniel looked like he was drained of color, while Elaine vibrated with anger. In their arms, they held some sickening bouquet of supermarket flowers.
“Claire, darling,” Elaine began in her most insincere tone. “There must have been a mistake at the bank—”
“No mistake,” I said.
I made a gesture towards Martin, who was seated in a corner. He got up and gave the document to Daniel. “This is your official notice of divorce and a request for a full forensic audit of the missing money in my company,” Martin told him.
Daniel seemed to have been struck by a fist. “You’re ruining our family because of… dinner? It was hotpot!” Daniel exclaimed.
“It wasn’t about hotpot, Daniel,” I replied. “It was about the fact that I only realized who you really are now that I can give you nothing more.
“The car has already been towed from the restaurant parking lot. You should probably call an Uber, or there’s the good old bus route.”
Five minutes later, they were shown the door by the security guards.
It has been six months since then. Our divorce was nasty, but you don’t want a judge to see you taking money from your pregnant wife and leaving her in the hospital. Things are pretty peaceful for me right now. It’s just me and my kid. No tiptoeing around, no one saying that I am “cheap” or “emotional.”
This morning, I was standing on my balcony, watching the sunrise, and I realized that the hardest thing about leaving wasn’t leaving, but staying.
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Bored Daddy
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