“ 17 years I been doing this...17 long years. Having four kids, spending everyday at home picking up Lego's, organizing lunches, cleaning rooms, cooking, being the cool mom, the devoted mom. Perfect wife. Making sure his clothes were laid out in the morning, having his breakfast on the table before 7, dinner hot on the table when he got home, minding my business by not asking questions. Letting him be the man. I did all these things for Mark and our family...my family just to get a text three weeks ago saying...oh Caroline I think we should get a divorce. Just like that. I knew he was seeing that little hoe at his job Amanda who was barely able to buy a drink or smoke a cigarette, but I didn’t think he would throw the family away. I thought if I just kept doing what a good mother and wife should do that everything would be okay.
It wasn’t too long ago that I seen him cuddling that bitch at that cozy little bar “Cush” on 52nd South street. I was on my way to pick up dinner for the kids when I glanced over and saw them through the eerily romantic glass windows. Shock, Panic, and anger all ran through my mind, but at the same time I knew I couldn’t leave my life. Being the somewhat strong woman I once thought I was I just turned a blind eye thinking he would eventually get his fill of her and come back home. Now I guess not. What did I expect tho, I mean all men want the cutest, hottest, blondest piece on the market to take home and show off to their friends. My father did...Mark did it. Guess I should have known. What middle aged stud executive wants a good wife and mother by their side. They want the new, the wrinkless, the dumb who can’t pee for themselves without asking for assistance. Me...I’m not going down like that. He can have his little fling, but I’ll get my laugh to.
You see, I’ve done way too much in these 17 years to be flushed out of a life, sulking in tissues in some no name town trying to figure out what I was or who I was before I achieved my so called american dream. I need something to give me joy, give me happiness. Mark wants a new life...but I..want to take it away. I want to make him suffer, make him scream, make him wither away for being the coward he is. Maybe I’ll write a book called how to kill your husband, and say it’s realistic fiction. Killing might be extreme, but who cares. A deep part of me wants to take his life, but at the same time his life belongs to my children as well. Despite our lives Mark has always been a good father to them, they love him. At one point he used to be good to me, he used to love me.I remember the days when we used to take random trips to Santa Monica just to have fun and get away. Those days we used to go to my favorite Italian restaurant “ Annamarie” where we would share the Fettucine shrimp alfredo, slurping the same noodle until our lips met as if we were in “ The Lady and the Tramp.” A piece holds the gun down as I don’t know if I can rip and essential part of me and more importantly my children away from the world forever. But I can’t live with myself knowing this man gets away with murdering my life. I don’t want to think of it as me or my children because what mother would be that selfish, but I do everything for everybody and this time something needs to be done for me. He’ll be home in five minutes, I’ll be standing here in five minutes( long pause) he’ll be gone in five minutes(wipes away a single tear).