Promises Made- Promises Kept

by Jaclyn Rosamond

  No wonder the little prick treated me like his mother when it came to housework. That’s how he’d seen me. As his substitute mother, more or less a domestic servant. And kicking and screaming, but not loud enough, I’d let him.

  Bianca had started wearing floral dresses.

  Had she become a housewife slave? I cracked up, bending double with giggles.

  My wardrobe preferences included lots of color, jeans, jumpers, T-shirts, full-skirted dresses and skirts. Floaty scarves, high heels, boots, in fact, all sorts of accessories I’d never given much thought to. The possibilities were endless. Now thirty – high time I found my fashion smarts.

  With only my income to live on, money was in short supply. My overseas frugality had, however, left money in the kitty. A wardrobe shopping spree was months away. Besides, why spend now on things I’d toss when the extra weight had gone?

  But I could window shop for my taste.

  I thought about that for long moments. Did I have the bottle to go into boutiques at my size and pick up skinny-minnie clothes and risk the derision of the snotty salesgirls?

  Why not? What was I afraid of?

  Why did I care what complete strangers thought of me?

  Because Eddie had crushed my self-esteem.

  And suddenly, there it was, right in front of me again, all the hurt and rejection. Tears welled up and my bravado of a moment before dissolved. I sobbed my eyes out.

  By the time my pity party ended I was ready for bed. Asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, I didn’t wake until nearly nine the following morning.

  Morning sun shone on a wet garden, lifting my mood.

  I had three more days of holiday and planned to make the most of them.

  After a shower I hopped on my bathroom scales. I let out a little whoop of victory. Another ten pounds down, a real achievement, considering the oodles of food I’d eaten on holiday. Walking, exploring and using the on-board gym had paid off. Now I had only one stone to lose.

  For my first healthy act I eliminated sugar in coffee. It tasted bitter, but I’d persist. My friends disciplined their taste buds to healthier options; there was no reason I couldn’t do the same.

  Mum and Dad called and invited me to dinner that evening.

  In the interim I spent most of the day culling useless stuff in my life.

  Out of the freezer and pantry I dumped everything that could sink my determination. An embarrassingly large bin bag received frozen pizza, frozen chips, frozen croissants, chocolate, crisps and biscuits. Ice cream thawed in the kitchen sink. I flushed it away before I could second guess myself.

  However, I changed my mind about chocolate, and scrabbled through the bag to retrieve it before I ditched everything. Chocolate’s a feel-good food. I thought of Cal’s penchant for chocolate and smiled.

  I wrote a healthy menu and made grocery lists. Before lunch I hotfooted out to shop for food. I took my time in the busy supermarket, bypassing aisles full of cakes, confectionary, chocolates and soft drinks, shopping in less familiar aisles, scrutinizing labels before adding a new food to my trolley.

  Back home I stacked goods in the fridge and cupboards and stood back admiring my choices. All I had to do now was cook and eat healthily from the stack of appealing recipes I’d downloaded.

  My fitness issue headed the next list. Going to a gym was a chore. I’d worked that out on the cruise, despite the sublime views as I exercised, my heart hadn’t been in the grind of treadmill, Stairmaster or elliptical trainer. However, yoga classes had been great. I sat down at the computer and sussed out low-key gyms in my area with yoga classes, tai chi and regular gym equipment. I made a few phone calls and selected a gym. Tracey could see me mid-afternoon.

  Not the gym Eddie frequented. No way. He had enough tickets on himself already – he might even think I was trying to win him back with a slimmer and fitter me.

  I shuddered. Nope.

  After a late lunch I tore through drawers and wardrobe, yanking out all my clothes. The nightmare floral dresses landed in the thrift shop pile without a glance.

  As for the tasteless lingerie he’d given me to liven our sex lives… I held up some of the worst tarty tats – briefly tempted to post them to Bianca.

  Too vindictive. Too trashy. Out came the scissors instead, a weight lifting off my shoulders as I cut them to ribbons.

  I dumped the rejected clothes at a thrift store on my way to meet Tracey.

  Her story was inspirational. Five years ago she’d been a “big” girl and received her wakeup call when a stranger, a cocky teenager, walked up to her in the street and called her a fat lesbian mole.

  ‘I nearly died, I was so humiliated. She stood there mouthing off at me as if I was the only fat person in the street. Believe me, I wasn’t, but for some reason, she picked on me. After slagging me off, she and her mates walked off sniggering. God, I swear I’d have knocked her down if I’d had the guts, but I didn’t.

  ‘I put my head down and waddled away, tears pouring down my fat, unhappy face. She was so spiteful. Why would a stranger do that?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not a lesbian, not that it matters,’ she added, eyeing me, eyebrows raised. ‘And I don’t even know what she meant by a mole, but I was fat.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, whether she realized it or not, it put a stick of dynamite under me, and here I am, slim, trim, taut and terrific today.’

  She did look fantastic, toned, tanned and healthy. Everything I wanted to be. Just looking at her boosted my energy.

  ‘Good for you.’ I grinned. ‘Well, I guess my unholy confession is that I ate my way out of a marriage. It was a lousy marriage from the start, but I didn’t know that in the beginning. And now I want me back again. A year ago I was a size ten, and I ate my way up to a size eighteen, maybe even almost a size twenty, but I’m not far off a size twelve now and I’ve donated all my big girl clothes to charity shops.’

  ‘Good girl. Well, you’re on your way and you’ve come to the right place. So, let’s talk about what motivates you.’

  She walked me round the gym, handed me a timetable for the various classes and talked about my goals. She wasn’t pushy. She took my statistics, nodding at my already improving fitness levels and wrote up a program that was sustainable with my working hours. I left on a high, having signed up for three months. I hoped to be out of the country after that.

  Once all my excess weight had gone, I’d reward myself with a hair and makeup makeover, and a wardrobe of new clothes. Maybe in about three months – or even two and a half months if I worked hard. I’d have a fair bit more money saved by then. My credit card would take a hit, too. And – I did a rapid calculation, while my heart sped up a bit – I could use a small portion from the house sale. A very small portion. My reward for surviving a shitty year.

  Before setting off to my parents’ house, I experimented with makeup, using tips from books I’d bought in Vancouver. The result was encouraging. I’d wandered into Sephora, a fabulous makeup store in Vancouver, and exited with a couple of eye shadows, a lipstick and lip-liners.

  They were the start of my…, my what exactly? My transformation? Life change? I thought about it. I was changing everything about my life, so I guess it could be dubbed a life changing transformation. I smiled at my reflection, and for the first time in a long time, I liked the person smiling back at me. And when I say a long time, I mean from the day I met Eddie, because I’d somehow become less me when I was with him, more a people-pleaser. Or an Eddie pleaser.

  Was that normal in a relationship?

  Sure, marriage is about give and take, about promises to love and cherish, the desire to make each other happy, but did Eddie ever want to make me happy? My immediate answer would be no. Had it always been like that? God, that was a big question, and not one I had time to brood on just now. Time and distance would help. For now, I’d focus on positivity during the last weeks of divorce and settlement.

  As I drove to my parents’ home, I considered which changes I wanted to share. I didn’t
want my parents, especially Mum, to influence my decision making.

  I’d come home on my own terms, calmer and happier, but not quite ready to share everything. My weight loss would be obvious. I’d examined my shrinking figure in the mirror, turning from side to side, and seen my butt was smaller, neater, firmer. My arms more toned. My face slimmer. My bra size had dropped and my waist was a shape now, still squishy but not for long. My back and thighs still held extra weight.

  Tonight, I’d share my weight loss journey with my parents and my job plans.

  Everything else was a delicious secret. Including Cal. No way did I want them privy to my feelings. Feelings he didn’t reciprocate.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  My parents were in fine fettle. We sat down in the library and I handed out gifts. Dad, also a chocoholic, accepted with alacrity the chocolates I’d bought from Rogers in Vancouver.

  ‘Hmm, good chocolate.’ He savored one and winked at me. Mum scolded him for eating before dinner. ‘Nonsense, Anne, one small cube of chocolate won’t spoil my appetite.’ His eyes twinkled at her.

  ‘Maybe not.’ She tried to keep the amusement out of her voice. ‘But it won’t help with this.’ She poked a miniscule roll of fat around his midriff.

  He grinned, pulling her onto his lap, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Giggling at the two of them canoodling on the sofa, they reminded me happy marriages could last the distance. Their fortieth anniversary would be next year.

  ‘Tell us about your holiday, darling.’ Mum handed me a glass of sherry.

  Over the course of the evening I regaled them with holiday highlights, meeting Cal and Leah, and Leah’s experiences in travel nursing.

  ‘I’m applying for travel nurse work. I need a break from the last couple of years and there’s nothing like getting away from everything to gain a better perspective.’ I handed them a leaflet printout on travel nursing.

  Mum was instantly on board with the idea.

  ‘Darling, that’s marvelous,’ she said, in her usual cut-glass accent. ‘It sounds like just the antidote to all the heartache you’ve gone through.’

  ‘I think so, too. I’ll be working on my CV tomorrow, getting ready to move on this. I’m ready to do oncology work again, if that’s what’s needed, but I also have midwifery behind me. And three years of theatre. Nurses in America are highly trained, I have to see whether my qualifications are up to scratch.’

  Once I’d related my weight loss journey to date, Dad decided to work on his spare tire, especially when Mum poked his middle again.

  ‘Darling, you look like a new woman already,’ Mum said.

  ‘More like our old Rose.’ Dad agreed. ‘It’s good to see color in your face again.’

  ‘Thanks. Hey, how about one of you sends me a text message every day, reminding me to go to the gym, cos once I’m back at work I’ll try and wriggle out of it.’

  ‘Right. That I can do,’ Mum said. ‘What if I were to come with you to the gym?’ Her eyes widened in surprise at her own suggestion.

  ‘No need for that, Mum,’ I said. Visions of my mother encouraging me as if I were a recalcitrant child rendered me almost speechless. ‘Just a text every day or two will do. Besides,’ I waved my hand at her figure, ‘you don’t need a gym, you’ve stayed slim and fit all your life.’

  Mum nodded, relieved, while Dad winked from behind her back.

  ‘On the other hand, Dad, why don’t you come running with me every other day?’ I teased.

  ‘Not likely, young lady,’ he said promptly. ‘Think of my image amongst the eager young legal beagles if they saw me puffing along behind you. I’d be the butt of a few jokes. No, no, it’s the rowing machine in the bedroom for me. That suits me just fine.’

  ‘Keep a daily food diary,’ Mum suggested, ‘that’ll help keep you on track, too.’

  ‘I started one this morning and took all my measurements. I’m way more than halfway there already.’

  ‘It’s something positive to think about while this nonsense with Eddie is worked through,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll be more than happy to see the back of the little bastard.’

  ‘Ben!’ Mum admonished, while I grinned at him.

  His comment soothed my soul, no more boring Eddie.

  ‘You know something? I don’t care if he does buy the house once it’s on the market.’ I shrugged. ‘The prospect of working overseas is much more exciting than hanging on to a house I no longer love.’

  ‘Good girl.’ Dad beamed. ‘A clean break sounds ideal.’ He lifted an eloquent eyebrow. ‘Just make sure you come back in the long term, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, Dad. Wait and see what happens.’

  The next morning I woke to find a new text message from Cal.

  ‘Hope your return home hasn’t been too depressing. Had a “fun” day today in Denali, with rain and mud, no wildlife sightings, grumpy tourists and a determined flirt trying to compromise my virtue. Without success! Exhausted. Hope to hear from you soon. Love, Cal’

  Delighted, I giggled at his message. Rotten day for him, but my spirits lifted. I texted back.

  ‘Glad to hear your virtue is intact. Have adjusted to return home. Can’t wait for my divorce to come through. Have joined a gym, although am worried I won’t stick with it. Much sorting out of my life undergone since I arrived home. Photo attached! No pangs about selling the house and am just about to prepare my CV to send off to a nursing agency. Thanks to you and Leah, I now have something to look forward to. Love, Rose.’ I added a photo I’d taken of everything I’d gotten rid of during the day.

  I punched send before I could try and reword the message to sound more interesting. I hoped I didn’t sound boring.

  The next day I worked on my résumé, bringing it up to date. Little tingles of excitement at the prospect of something new kept me going.

  Knowing I had only about four or five weeks before the decree absolute was finalized, legalizing my divorce, I emailed all my travel nursing inquiries. Gazing into space for long minutes after pressing ‘send’, I hoped they’d get back to me soon. My thoughts were on fire with new ideas.

  Later, I went to the gym and used the weights, loving the sense of empowerment as my muscles were challenged. The yoga class was a basics for beginners. I had a long way to go to before I even approached the instructor’s level of flexibility.

  At home, I finished clearing out old clothes. By the end of the day I had about a quarter of the clothes I’d started out with the day before. Four items of clothing remained on hangers and my drawers were practically empty. Shocked at the limited number of clothes now left, I sat on the bed looking at the empty spaces before realizing these were the only clothes I wore anyway – everything else had been taking up space.

  I’d read that most women wear only twenty per cent of their clothes eighty per cent of the time. I wanted future wardrobe choices to pay their way.

  When I shop for clothes, I’ll choose a wardrobe where every piece counts, where clothes match and I’m not hunting for a top to match a skirt. My mother worked this one out yonks ago, I should tap her for tips.

  By the end of the day I’d piled all the unwanted clothes in boxes in my car, ready to go. The house felt emptier. And it felt good. Another step closer to freeing me from emotional baggage.

  One unpleasant phone call had to be made and I left it as late as I possible.

  My fingers shook as I clicked in Eddie’s mobile number.

  ‘What?’ His sneer came across clear as day.

  ‘I’m ready to put the house on the market,’ I replied, my tone terse.

  ‘You won’t reconsider?’

  ‘No. Why should I make anything easy for you?’

  ‘Bitch!’

  Pushing down on anger, I warned him. ‘Careful, Eddie. I might decide to keep that dining table Bianca has her eye on. It doesn’t pay to be unpleasant.’

  I had no intention of keeping anything except my hand-carved rosewood desk, an eighteenth birthday present. But he could da
mn well pay for everything else.

  He spluttered on the other end.

  ‘By the way, Eddie. I had a fabulous holiday, thanks for asking. The cruise, in particular, was fantastic.’

  He hung up. I laughed. With a grin on my face, I went to bed, setting the alarm for five thirty the next morning.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  My first day at work was tiring, but better than expected. The woman whose labor I assisted with had been hard at it for five hours already, and it was another six hours before she popped out a boy without the aid of painkillers. I was full of admiration. Her face creased in wonder as she cradled her newborn son, grueling hours of pain forgotten. Her husband had been a trooper, doing anything required – holding his wife in his arms, walking her round the birthing room, rubbing her back, breathing with her.

  ‘What a honey her husband is,’ I said to another midwife. We left them to absorb their new arrival while we cleaned and cleared.

  ‘Yes, he is, wouldn’t it be great to have a husband like that. Not every man gets involved as he did. Bet he makes a good father, too.’

  I nodded, my thoughts turning to Cal, and his devotion to Lily. I felt a pang. I’d love to find a man like that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Days and weeks crawled by, and little by little, my plans fell into place. Three real estate agents assessed the value of my marital home. Eddie wanted to engage the agent who gave the lowest valuation. Wanting to be fair, I chose the middle valuation, signing a contract with the agent I chose after careful deliberation and a visit from my lawyer brother, Dominic.

  I sat with Dom through a lengthy meeting with Eddie and his lawyer. Both lawyers had insisted Bianca not be present for this briefing, despite Eddie trying to force the issue.

  ‘She’s my wife in every way, except on paper,’ he said, throwing his body back in his seat. ‘I want her involved in everything.’

  ‘It’s simple, Eddie.’ Dominic told him. ‘You want this divorce to go ahead in order to remarry. There will be no papers signed, no details finalized, until you back down and leave your girlfriend out of the equation.’