Why me?

I walk through the empty rooms, seeing grubby marked walls where the beds once stood, scuffed  cupboards and wall to wall carpets that show tell-tale signs of spilt cool drinks ( in spite of the no eating or drinking  upstairs rule) . My eyes rest on chipped window frames once hidden by sumptous curtains. It’s a house now, not a home anymore. I try to remember when these rooms breathed a life, loved with passion and held special memories for all of us.

I try to cry, but there is nothing. My soul is cold, my stomach knotted. This is not the path I want to follow; I thought it would be so different. Yes, I have so much to be grateful for, but this is ripping me apart. I am unable to focus on anything; I go to sleep thinking angry thoughts and wake up full of distain and anger. I feel betrayed, lied to. There are two things I can’t stomach; lies and snakes. 

This is supposed to be a time to say goodbye, to let go; something I haven’t done because the kids are always around. That’s my anger. Why can’t we be honest for once and tell them the truth.  Not burden them or rob them of their childhood, but make them aware that things will change financially, and no of it is their fault. We’ll keep them in their private schools no matter what. But the holidays, the gadgets and the outings – those we’ll do without. But we can’t because he is too proud. Or is it that he can’t come to terms with the stark reality? I see that as spineless. So where is the trust, the respect that I am supposed to show?  For richer or poorer for better or worse.

Yeah right. My friends hint at leaving, they see his anger and frustration taken out on me. I play the innocent, injured victim, basking in their support, unable to be there and show my own support. I’m embarrassed, inconsolable and oh, so stupid.

Why me? The question that goes around and around in my head. I dream of another life, one where I’m with someone who can look after me and take away my fear and uncertainty of tomorrow. How are we going to afford our golden years? What a laugh; there will be nothing golden about them. Two people with nothing left in sitting at the seaside. I’ve seen that scenario two doors away. A drunken old fool who was once headmaster of one of South Africa’s finest and his wife who is just a caretaker when home, happy to escape to bridge, golf or any superficial activity  as long as it can transport her from this private hell.

I look for an outlet. I spin. I have an affair. It’s fun. Weird to kiss someone else after 20 odd years. And I don’t feel guilty. Well, not until he finds out. But not for him, for the kids, I don’t want them to think badly of me,  I love them with all my heart, they are my reason, my purpose and my lifeblood. I would die for them.

His poison seeps into the kid’s consciousness. We all become equally affronted, angry at the reversed racism cannibalizing this country.  Pale males of a certain age are sidelined; there is no place for them. It becomes an excuse in my mind, one that he hides behind. I wish he would be more confident, go and get what is rightfully his. He deserves it. Oh, just get a job for God’s sake!