Happy Marriage

The sun glared in my face as I drove away from the courthouse. My foot felt heavy.

I had signed my name along the bottom of the paper. It actually happened.

This is the first time I’ve signed such a document. I never thought I would be signing such a document. I always feared I would sign such a document.

But here I am, pen in hand, standing morosely across from my wife - my ex wife. She doesn’t look that upset. That’s one thing I always admired about her, she never really got sad about anything. One of the things I really admired about her was her ability to stay cool and calm in stressful situations. 

My son is crying. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, all he knows is that the family is being torn apart. I’m right with you little buddy, I don’t understand either. He’s hugging my leg, but a look from his mother calls him to her side. After a while, he stops crying and settles into a quiet sob.

The worst part was that I didn’t understand what happened. Everything was fine. There were none of the “usual signs” of marital  unrest. No cheating, no abuse, no lies, no scandals. There were fights, but what marriage doesn’t have fights?

Well, there was some tension. The previous night’s dinner sat heavy in my stomach. I tried to make a pasta dish I looked up online, but of course I messed it up. The pasta was undercooked, the tomatoes were overcooked. But worst of all was my wife’s stare. 

She was looking into my soul as she twirled the spaghetti on her fork. She put a clump of uncooked pasta into her mouth, wincing at the texture. She knew it was bad, but had to “confirm”. My son, of course, did not care. Children alternated between eating literal dirt or outright rejecting carrots because they once touched the peas. 

This was not the first time that I messed dinner up. I’m not a very good chef, but I tried. I always tried my best, but it was never enough. Despite all my failures, she would always give me a chance to prove myself. 

There was that time I made what I thought was a lovely meringue. I sat in front of the mixer for what seemed like hours, testing the batter until it was silky smooth. The oven was pre-heated to the perfect temperature, the air dry as a bone. Of course, she informed me that they were gritty and undercooked, but at least I did my best.

I even remember how I painstakingly ground the sugar in a mortar and pestle. I read this would help the dissolving process, and create a smoother texture. Of course I knew I would mess it up, but I still tried my best. I always try my best in everything I do.

I knew she loved the dry and crispy meringues, she had said as much when we went to that fancy french restaurant. I always paid attention to what she liked. I knew her favourite shows, friends, hobbies, and what she likes to eat. I also knew what she hated, and that always pointed towards anything I did.

Of course cooking was not the only thing I messed up. Even that restaurant was a mistake. I booked a reservation for June 25th, our anniversary. However, she quickly and repeatedly told me during dinner that our anniversary was on July 25th. She even corrected the waiter when she congratulated us on our anniversary. My wife pointedly said this was our “practice anniversary”. I was glad she gave me a chance to prove myself again. 

At least the food was good. Well, what she ordered was good. When my order arrived, she made sure to let me know that I ordered the wrong thing. I can’t even remember what I ordered, just that I suddenly was not that hungry. I could always get McDonalds afterwards. 

The french restaurant was my idea, but I knew she would love it. She had been watching a show about french cuisine, pointedly looking at me whenever a delicious meal was presented. The sumptuous sounds emitted by the hosts were echoed by my wife. Each dish showed me how cuisine was meant to be prepared.

Her taste in shows was not limited to just fancy french food, of course. She had a number of subscriptions to various DIY, home renovation, car mechanic, and even some medical channels. Each one provided a glimpse into the world of the competent. She would always turn on one of these channels whenever I entered the room.

My friends, of course, constantly badmouthed her. Jim, my best friend from childhood, would rail against her for hours. It was nonsense, but he would get quite heated sometimes. Even his wife, the nicest girl on the planet, would say nasty things about my wife. It was a shame when they suddenly had to move for Jim’s work. 

All of my friends seemed to move away in the last few years. I think they all realised just how mediocre I was as a person. My wife was always quick to let me know just how boring I could be, especially during social events. I was always grateful for this criticism, as I hated how often I bored her at home, and I didn’t want to do the same when out and about. In a moment of weakness and doubt I actually asked her why no one said anything before. She kindly told me that everyone was indeed saying so, just behind my back.

One thing I thought I handled well, but was later corrected, was raising our child. While I wasn’t able to “officially” take paternity leave, I was able to stay home quite a bit. But, it often seemed like everything I did was wrong. One time I put the diaper on wrong. Another  time I let him eat something he shouldn’t. The time before that, I was scolded for being too protective and not letting him eat dirt. It must have been quite exhausting for my wife to deal with both of us.

Even the creation of our son was... disappointing. Of course she didn’t tell me in the moment, it was only weeks later that I found out that she... well I didn’t do well. It’s something I don’t like to talk about.

I will say our wedding was the happiest moment in my life. There she was, dressed in pure white. Our family was happy. She looked happy. I was overjoyed. The early days were the best. Have you ever had a relationship where you could just sit on the couch, do nothing, but still have a great time? We were like that. Even spending our honeymoon under the Canada Day fireworks, enjoying each other’s company, was just fulfilling.

Even back then, I tried my best. In everything I tried my best. And, in everything, I came up short. So, it is no real surprise that she is leaving me.