Surgery For My Signed DivorceChapter 3

After the movie, I grabbed a beer at a dive bar by the river and sat there until nearly midnight.

When I finally walked into the house, I was surprised to see the lights on. Janet was sitting on the sofa. For the last three years, she’d been "busy" with Toby until the early hours, or she just didn't come home at all.

In the beginning, we were the classic "power couple"—two doctors, always working. When she first took over the hospital's board, I did everything to support her. I’d spend my few off-hours slow-cooking bone broths and medicinal stews to keep her strength up.

She’d just called me a " glorified manny." She said my hovering was suffocating.

Then Toby appeared. The "suffocation" disappeared, replaced by her absence.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the slight fog from the beer. Janet was staring at me, her eyes icy.

"You’re drinking, Bennett? You know I can't stand the smell of alcohol on you."

I blinked. I didn't bother defending myself. I knew that her "likes" and "dislikes" were entirely dependent on the person involved. When Toby got wasted at a frat-style party, she was there to tuck him in and give him IV fluids. When I had two beers after a fourteen-hour shift, I was "disgusting."

Double standards were Janet’s specialty. I was just done playing the game.

When I didn't engage, she looked genuinely confused. Usually, when she stood me up for Toby, I’d be waiting at the door, ready to demand an explanation, ready to fight for some scrap of her attention.

I turned to head toward the guest room.

"Do you even know what today is?" Janet asked suddenly.

I glanced at the clock. It was 12:15 AM. "It was my birthday," I said. "Technically, it was yesterday."

Usually, for the month leading up to my birthday, I’d drop hints. I’d try to steer her toward a restaurant or a gift. If she was in a good mood, I’d get a tie. If she was stressed, she’d tell me that "adults don't need to celebrate aging."

This was the first time in our marriage she’d brought it up herself.

I yawned. "It's just a birthday, Janet. It doesn't matter."

She looked frustrated. She reached over to the coffee table and tossed a small, wrapped box at me. Her voice had an uncharacteristic tremor of guilt. "I got you something. Just... see if you like it."

If her remembering was a shock, her buying a gift was a miracle. A year ago, I would have been on my knees with gratitude. I would have photographed the box from every angle and posted it everywhere.

I picked the box up off the floor and set it carelessly on the dining table. "Thanks. I’m sure it’s great."

My indifference was clearly driving her crazy. "I know I missed the show. I apologized. But this attitude is getting old, Bennett. Toby’s sister asked me to look out for him on her deathbed. I have a responsibility to him."

I was busy checking a text on my phone. "Right. Total responsibility. Five nights in Vegas with a 'kid' is very responsible."

Janet flinched. Her face went from pale to a dark, ink-stain red. She waited for me to keep shouting, to give her something to fight against so she could feel like the victim again.

But I just kept replying to my lawyer. Divorce was my only priority now.

She eventually walked over, trying to peek at my screen. "What are you looking at?"

I locked the phone. "Just some consulting work." I grabbed a pillow from the sofa. "I’ve been drinking. I’ll sleep in the guest room so I don't offend your 'cleanliness'."

I didn't wait to see her expression. I shut the door and slept better than I had in years.