I sat down. “I’ll be honest.”
He picked up his pen. “Then let’s get started.”
Halton
“Where do you want me to start?” Fiona asked.
I pulled my notepad closer. “At the beginning. I don’t want to hear every detail of your courtship, but I need your history.”
She nodded, rubbing her arms as she looked around the room. “We met when I was nineteen. He was older and in law school. He had started late, so there was a six-year difference between us, not that it ever bothered me. I was going for my English Lit degree. I wanted to teach.” She frowned ruefully. “I never finished.”
“Why?”
“Scott was like a whirlwind. A tornado, really. He swept in and overtook everything. My dad had died not long before I met him, and I wasn’t myself. I was struggling. Scott sort of stepped in and filled that void.” She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. “He liked to make decisions, and I was so lost at times, I let him. A year after we met, we were married. I stopped going to school and got a job. The deal was I would work until he became an established lawyer, and then I would go back to school and get my degree, and he would support me.”
“That never happened, I assume?”
“No. In between my two jobs, I helped Scott. I was great at research, and he liked it when I worked with him. He said I made him better.” There was a sad tone to her voice. “That was back when he was Scott—a young guy with dreams for the future—dreams I was part of.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “Life, I guess. He graduated and was hired at a firm. He insisted that I still help him. He promised that once he was established, I could go back to school, but that he needed me. He said I knew him better than anyone, and there was no one he trusted more.”
“Was it a paid position?”
“Yes and no. He told me, for tax reasons, it was best to let him handle things. He put money in an account for me. He said he was on the bottom rung so there was no money for an assistant for him, and he didn’t want to use the pool of assistants they had.” She lifted one shoulder. “I know it sounds crazy, but I believed him. I did it because he asked. I was young, and Scott was my whole life. He needed me, and I needed to be needed.” She shifted restlessly. “It was my identity—I was Scott’s wife. What he needed was more important than what I needed. He kept promising my dreams would happen soon.” She smiled ruefully. “Soon never came.”
I nodded as I jotted a few notes. I had heard that from other clients. Promises made and never followed through on. Vows that were broken. White lies than became deeper and more complex until trust was severed and lost.
“I was totally under his thumb and too stupid to realize it.” She got up and moved around before she spoke again. “Things were okay for a while. He started making a name for himself and was doing well. But he began to change. He became jaded and angry. He yelled more and started picking at everything I did. He decided I only had to go into the office on occasion. He refused to even listen to me talk about going back to school or finishing my degree. He would say, when the time was right, we would discuss it.” She smiled ruefully. “The time was never right, of course. He started coming home later, talking less, pulling away more, controlling more and more of what I did, or said—even thought. His opinions became my opinions. I lost myself.” Her fingers picked at the sleeve of her blouse in a nervous, jerky motion. “Then one day, he dropped a bombshell. He said he was leaving the firm and going into practice with another couple of lawyers. He said it was the right time and the firm was holding him back. That he wasn’t happy.”
She fell silent, and I waited. So far, it was the typical story—nothing I hadn’t heard before now.
“Scott changed even more once he had his own firm. I didn’t like the people he partnered with. They were harsh and vindictive. He started acting like them. He grew cold. All that mattered to him was his career. His image. The firm. I fell to a very distant second—maybe lower. He grew even more controlling and belligerent. I was no longer welcome to help him—I wasn’t a proper assistant. He hired someone else. A long list of someone elses.”
“Was he cheating on you?”
“Yes. I was never able to prove it before, but he told me he was having an affair and no longer wanted to be married.” She lifted a shoulder. “He said we could move forward fast with a divorce since he knew I wouldn’t forgive him for cheating.”
“He’s right. It’s one of the few ways to speed up a divorce in Ontario and not have to wait a year of being separated. Unless you choose to forgive him and try again.” I let that sink in, then asked. “Do you, Fiona? Do you forgive him?”
“No.”
She sat down and met my gaze, hers tormented. “He isolated me, Hal. I lost myself. He controlled every aspect of my life. Where I went, who I saw, what I did. School was off the table. We had no children and no chance of ever having them together.” She paused, her voice breaking with emotion.
“Was that your choice?” I asked.
“No,” she said shortly, and I decided to leave that subject for another time.
“All right. Keep going,” I encouraged.
“The house, the business, everything we owned was in his name. I got an allowance, a cell phone, and a car. I was told to be grateful for what I had. He trotted me out to the occasional dinner, then ignored me again.” She focused her gaze on the wooden table, tracing the grain of the wood. “We haven’t been together as a couple in over four years.”
“Why did you stay?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think for the longest time, I hoped. Hoped he would remember when he couldn’t wait to get home to me. That he would find that spark I had seen in him when we first met. I kept thinking it would get better. I did everything I could. I stayed busy volunteering, doing charity work with other wives at the firm since school was no longer an option. I helped out at dinners and functions until Scott informed me he had no desire to attend them anymore. I kept the house immaculate and tried to be a good wife. Anything he asked of me, I did, but it never seemed to be enough. The time just…slipped away while I waited for him. I lost so many years.” She blew out a long breath. “My identity was so wrapped up in his, it was as if I no longer existed without him.”
I nodded, remaining silent. Once again, her story was familiar.
“From the outside, I had everything. A big house, a successful husband. I drove a new car, I had nice clothes, no money worries. But my life was empty. I was empty. And for the longest time, too weak to do anything about it."
I could sense her growing emotion, so I changed the direction of our conversation.
“Okay. Let’s move forward to now. What happened?”
“He came home one night two weeks ago. He told me he was done. He didn’t love me and he wanted out of our marriage and there was someone else.” She tilted her head. “It didn’t shock me, to be honest. He wasn’t happy about anything that had to do with me anymore. I had stopped trying as well. I was, ah, embarrassed, if I’m being honest.”