A Lesson for My Wife
“I can’t stand it anymore!” I snapped, sending my spoon clattering across the table. I glared at Emily, my wife, frustration boiling over. Was this really supposed to be dinner? The pasta was so overcooked it had turned to mush, and the meatballs were practically raw in the middle. “What have you been up to all day? Glued to your mobile again?”
“How can you say that?” Emily whimpered theatrically, quickly tucking her phone behind a cushion. “I’ve been looking after Oliver all day! Hes so naughty just like his father,” she added with a pointed look, obviously hoping to wind me up more. “Its tough for me, you know? I cant seem to do anything right these days. Having a child took it out of me…”
“Oliver is two and a half, Emily,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. “He should really be at nursery by now, and you could be back at work. You’d feel better for it!”
“And have him pick up some horrible cold every other week? I’d rather not, thank you very much,” she shot back indignantly. “You want us to live at the GPs?”
“He needs things to stimulate him, Emily to help him develop. Dont you know that?”
“We do plenty!” she retorted. “Olivers doing brilliantly for his age. The health visitor said so at his last check-up!” She was clearly digging in her heels. Wed been round this houses before, and I could tell she was frightened Id put my foot down about nursery. She had no intention of returning to work, that much was clear. Maternity leave had turned into endless hours chatting online, and she had no plans to give it up.
“And who, exactly, do you think youve got to thank for that?” I snapped, my patience running out as my fist thudded on the table, rattling the plates. “My mum, thats who! Shes the one spending real time with Oliver, teaching him things. Youre either napping or scrolling through your phone! You could at least tidy up or cook a proper meal. Why should I come home from work every day to something like this?” I looked again at Emilys slop of a dinner and grimaced.
“Im not your skivvy or your maid! Im your wife, and youre my husband. Its your job to make sure Im comfortable!” Emily tossed her hair, clearly believing every word. After too many hours watching reality telly and scrolling through social media, shed completely changed her view of marriage. She used to believe she should look after me, take care of the house and bring up our son properly. Now, she was convinced only doormats behave like that and she certainly didnt want to be treated like the help.
“Is that so?” I ground out, barely containing my anger. “So Im expected to work all day, come home and find you lounging on the sofa?”
“Im working on myself, actually,” Emily replied haughtily. “Youll end up boasting about me to your mates look at my clever wife, always up for a good conversation.”
“Oh really?” I barked. “When was the last time you read a book? Learnt something new?” I got up and glared down at her. “No answer? I thought not. Social media isnt education, and those idiotic talk shows where everyone just yells at each other are no help either. Let me ask you straight: do you even want to look after the house and our son like a normal wife, or not?”
“No! I told you, Im not a servant!”
At this, Emily launched a full-blown tirade about how little I earned, how much of a tyrant I was, how I was never home. I listened in silence, then replied in a single word:
“Divorce.”
“What?” she spluttered, just as she was winding up for another round.
“Divorce,” I said again, cold as stone. “Ill find a real woman for a wife someone wholl actually be a mother to Oliver. You only spend a couple of hours a day with him anyway my mother and your mother do all the rest. You dont deserve to be called a mum. And I cant call you my wife either.”
At first Emily panicked, then she shrugged it off. She clearly thought I was bluffing. What, after all, could I do? Surely the courts would never let me have Oliver. She was his mum, that settled it.
But I really had had enough. I stopped talking to her, just walking past as though she was part of the wall. Oliver and his granny headed off to the Brighton coast for a couple of weeks. Emily was only too happy to see them go now she could scroll to her hearts content, undistracted. But two days later she started to feel the house was awfully empty without Olivers little voice, and found herself ringing her mother-in-law pretty regularly.
Two weeks after our row, a letter from the court arrived. Id kept my word and filed for divorce. And when the day came, Emily was dealt another shock her own mother spoke up for me.
“I believe Oliver should stay with his father,” my mother-in-law told the judge, giving her daughter a hard look. “Frankly, Emilys maternal instincts never appeared at all. I did everything for Oliver me and Jeremys mother did it all. Jeremy works hard, and still finds time for Oliver.”
The judge made notes, glancing at Emily with a bemused smile. She was right to be nervous. Emily had no job, no home of her own, no real bond with Oliver. The odds were on my side.
“Please, Your Honour, give us time to work it out! Dont divorce us yet! Let me have a second chance!” Emily broke down in tears. “Jeremy, I swear Ill change. Ill forget all this nonsense about being above housework. Just give me the chance to be a proper wife!”
“Well see…” I said evenly.
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A month earlier
“My daughter has become completely spoilt, Im ashamed of her,” Emilys mother sighed, shaking her head over a cup of tea. “Jeremy, whatever happens, I understand if you want to leave. She sits at home all day, cant tidy up, barely looks after Oliver… If you do divorce her, I wont judge. Just let us visit Oliver, thats all I ask.”
“I do love Emily, in spite of everything,” I said quietly. “But things cant go on like this. I need to try one last time.”
“And why not? In fact, I have an idea. File for divorce Emily will kick up a fuss, so youll have three months to reconcile. Thatll shake her up a bit!”
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In the end, Emily learned her lesson. The flat is spotless, delicious scents waft out of the kitchen, and shes become warm and attentive again. Most importantly, shes finally paying Oliver the attention he needs, and hes as happy as can be. He really does love his wayward mum.
Looking back, I realise that sometimes it takes letting go or threatening to to make someone value what they have. It was tough, but Im glad I stuck to my guns. We both needed that wake-up call.
