I was furious with myself for not standing up to him. How dare he?! Then again, he’d had 11 years’ practice making me feeling inconsequential; there was certainly no reason for him to stop now.
Although he didn’t suspect the truth, I couldn’t help thinking it would be a case of when, not if. My life, once so gray and certain, was now on shifting sands. Whatever the catalyst, no one had forced me to go in the direction I’d chosen. I wasn’t sure what choices I had now, other than to wait until Sebastian was of age. If I went to a lawyer about a divorce tomorrow, how long would it be before my ‘affair’ became known? That was the crux of the problem. I was committing a crime; David’s only crime was to be born an asshole and just grow bigger.
We ate in silence and he didn’t speak to me again that evening. Nor did he try to touch me, which was a blessing.
Breakfast passed with the same cheerless routine. Perhaps we both breathed a sigh of relief when it was time for him to go to work. He flung down my appointment card as he left.
At 9.45 AM I presented myself at the OB-GYN reception. The waiting room was already full of pregnant women, toddlers and babies, each trying to make themselves heard above the din. I felt conspicuous and ill at ease. One of the women smiled kindly and raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment of the noise. She probably assumed I was newly pregnant.
What the hell was I doing here? I’d had a Pap smear just six months ago and that had come back clear. I had no menopausal symptoms and I knew David was just using this as a means of exercising his power: and I was letting him. Again.
I was ashamed of myself for being so weak. Part of me wanted to get it over with to appease him for a few more weeks; but another, newer, bolder part was telling me to stand up to him.
Somewhere a door opened and the moving air caused posters tacked to a corkboard to flutter colorfully. The notice for a women’s rights group caught my eye: ‘However we dress, wherever we go – yes means yes, and no means no’.
There was something about the simple wording that resonated: perhaps it was my turn, at last, to say no.
I took a deep breath and stood up. The appointment receptionist looked irritated to see me standing in front of her window for a second time.
“Yes, may I help you?” she said curtly, clearly having no wish to help me whatsoever.
“Yes, you may. I had an appointment for 10 AM with Dr Ravel, but I’ve decided to cancel it.”
“Cancel it?”
“That’s right. I apologize for wasting Dr Ravel’s time.” But not yours, you sour-faced cow.
“Well, that’s most irregular. Dr Ravel is a very busy woman.”
“Hence the apology.”
“Hmm, well. I can give you another appointment in five weeks and…”
“No, there’s no need. No appointment necessary. Thank you.”
And I left, leaving her puzzled and annoyed.
Damn, that felt good! Even though I knew I’d have to face David’s ire later. What the hell: I was a habitual irritation to him anyway. For the first time, it occurred to me that he might even be a happier man without me in his life. I wasn’t sure he’d see it that way, without his cook, cleaner, party organizer and occasional sexual toy, but it might even be true.
I drove out of the hospital parking lot feeling elated and jittery. I’d taken my first baby steps towards independence.