A Husband Worth More Than Bitter Grievances “Igor, that was the last straw! That’s it, we’re getting divorced! And don’t bother dropping to your knees this time—it won’t work!” With a final flourish, I ended our marriage. Naturally, Igor didn’t believe me. My husband was sure things would play out as they always did: he’d kneel, beg forgiveness, buy me yet another ring, and all would be forgiven. It had worked before, more than once. But this time, I was determined to break the chains of wedlock for good. My fingers—pinky included—were weighed down with rings, but my life had felt empty. Igor had begun to drink more heavily and more often. And yet, it all had started as a romance. My first husband, Eddie, disappeared without a trace. That was during the rough and tumble 1990s—a frightening time. Eddie hadn’t exactly been easy to live with. He always seemed to be looking for trouble. As they’d say, “eyes like a hawk, wings like a sparrow.” If things didn’t go his way, all hell would break loose. I’m sure he was killed in some back-alley dispute. I never heard from him again. I was left with two daughters: Lizzie, five, and Rachel, just two. Five years passed after his mysterious disappearance. I thought I’d go mad—I had truly loved Eddie, despite his temper. We were inseparable. I was sure my life was over, that I’d simply raise my daughters and forget my own happiness. But fate had other plans… Those were tough times. I worked in a factory, where “pay” had become a pile of toasters and irons. On weekends, I sold them down at the market, just to put food on the table. One freezing winter’s day, as I shivered selling irons, a stranger approached me with real concern. “Are you cold, love?” he asked gently. “However did you guess?” I managed a weak joke, though my teeth chattered. But his presence warmed me up somehow. “Sorry, silly question. Why don’t we get you a hot cuppa? I can help you carry these if you like.” “Deal,” I croaked. “Otherwise, I’ll freeze to death out here.” We never did make it to a café. I took this stranger—Igor, he introduced himself—closer to my flat and asked him to wait at the entrance while I picked up my girls from nursery. My legs felt numb from the cold, but inside, I was already thawing. When I returned, kids in tow, I saw him from a distance, pacing and smoking. I thought, “I’ll offer him some tea at home—and then, whatever happens, happens!” Igor helped bring the irong-laden bag up all six flights of stairs—no working lift, of course. By the time I reached the third floor with my girls, Igor was already on his way back down. But I stopped him. “Hold on, my rescuer. You’re not leaving until I’ve given you some proper tea!” I grabbed his sleeve with my icy hand. “Are you sure? Won’t I be in the way with the kids?” “Not at all! Here, take the girls’ hands, I’ll dash ahead and get the kettle on,” I assured him. I didn’t want to lose him. While we chatted over tea, Igor even offered me a job as his assistant. The pay was better than a year’s worth of irons from the factory! I nodded gratefully, honestly wanting to kiss his hands for such an offer… Igor, as it turned out, was separated and in the midst of a divorce, with a son from his first marriage. Before long, we were married. He adopted my girls, and life felt like a constant dance. We bought a four-bedroom flat, filled it with luxury furniture and gadgets, then built a country house. We spent every summer by the seaside. Life was a cherry on top of a cake… Seven years of bliss passed. Perhaps, after reaching the top, Igor turned increasingly to drink. At first, I didn’t react. After all, he worked hard and needed to unwind. But when he started to drink at work, I grew uneasy. Nothing worked to stop him. Now, I should mention—I’m a bit of a daredevil. To distract Igor from the booze, I decided to… have another child with him. I was already thirty-nine. My friends just laughed when I told them. “Go for it, Tanya! Maybe we’ll all become mums at forty!” I’d always say, “If you get rid of a baby, you’ll regret it forever. But if you have a child, even unexpected, you’ll never be sorry.” Igor and I ended up with twins. Suddenly, we were raising four daughters! But Igor kept drinking. Eventually, craving peace and a return to nature, I convinced him to sell the flat and the house, and move to a village. We opened a lovely café. Igor became an avid hunter, buying guns and all the gear. There was plenty of game nearby. Things were okay—until Igor had another serious binge. I don’t know what was in his drink that night, but he went berserk! Smashed all the china and furniture, then came for us, firing his shotgun into the ceiling! The girls and I ran to hide at a neighbour’s. It was a nightmare. The next morning, it was deathly quiet. We crept home, but the scene was grotesque. Everything broken; nowhere to sit, eat, or sleep. Igor lay passed out on the floor. I gathered what little we had left and led my daughters to my mum’s house. She lived nearby. “Oh Tanya, what are you going to do with all these girls?” she lamented. “Go back to your husband. Families go through tough times—it’ll all be ground to flour in the end.” Mum was old-school: best keep your man, no matter the cost. A few days later, Igor showed up. That’s when I finally ended things. Oddly, he couldn’t remember a thing of his “performance.” He thought I was making it up. But I was done. I cut all ties. Burned my bridges. I had no idea how we’d live, but it was better to go hungry and be alive, than end up killed in a drunken rage. We sold the café cheaply and got out of town. We moved to the next village, to a tiny house. The older girls found jobs, and eventually both married. The twins were in year five. All of them loved Dad Igor, kept in touch, and kept me up to date with his life. Igor begged me to take him back through the girls. They pleaded, “Mum, give it a rest. Dad’s so sorry—think about yourself, you’re not twenty-five anymore.” But I stayed firm. I wanted calm, uneventful days. Two years went by. Then I started to miss Igor. Loneliness ate away at me. All those rings he gave me, I had to pawn; never managed to buy them back. I missed the life we’d had. There had been love in our house. Igor had loved all our girls, was genuinely sorry, a good husband when sober. What more could I want? Now even my eldest daughters only called—they never visited. Time passes, and the young have their lives. My twins would soon grow, and I’d be left alone. Daughters, like goslings—feathered up and quick to fly the nest. So, I prompted the twins to ask their dad about his life. Any new woman on the scene? They found out he was living and working in another city, sober as a judge, and single. Left them his address… just in case. Long story short, we’ve been back together for five years now. I did say I was a bit of an adventurer…

A HUSBAND DEARER THAN BITTER REGRET

James, that was the last straw! Thats it, were getting divorced! Dont even bother getting on your knees this timeit wont do any good! My words thundered through the flat, final and unforgiving as a judges gavel.

James didnt believe me, of course. My husband was sure it would play out as always: hed drop to his knees, apologise, buy yet another ring, and Id forgive him, just like before. Thats how it had always gone. But this time, I was truly set on breaking the fetters of matrimony. My fingersright down to the smallestwere stacked with rings, yet life had eluded me. James had been drinking heavily and constantly.

But it hadnt always been this way. Once, wed begun in a swirl of hope and tenderness.

My first husband, Edward, had gone missing. That had been back in the 90s, when life itself seemed haunted with danger. Edwards temperament had always been difficult; he sought out trouble like a moth to a flame. He had eagle eyes, but the wings of a house sparrowbold talk, little substance. If things went against his will, arguments would fly. I still believe Edward was caught up in some dodgy business and met a grim fate. Nothing was ever heard from him again. I was left with two daughters: Alice was five, Rose just two. Five lonely years passed after Edwards mysterious disappearance.

I thought I would lose my mind. I had loved Edward despite his flaws; wed been inseparable, two parts of a whole. I decided life was over for meId raise my girls alone and that was that. My own happiness was finished.

Those were such hard times. I worked in a factory, earning my salary in the form of toasters. I had to flog them just to put food on the table. Weekends were spent wheeling and dealing at the market. One winter, I was shivering blue while trying to sell a couple of toasters, when a man approached. His eyes flickered with concern.

Cold, are you, miss? the stranger asked, voice gentle.

How could you tell? I managed a wry smile, teeth chattering. But there was something about his presencea reassuring warmth.

Bit of an obvious question. Fancy warming up in the café? Ill give you a hand shifting your unsold toasters.

Well, lets go. Otherwise, I think Ill freeze to death right here, I replied, half-joking, half-serious.

We never made it to any café. Instead, I walked him closer to my building, asked him to wait by the entrance and mind my toastersI had to dash out and collect the girls from nursery. My legs were stone from the cold but, somehow, my heart felt lighter. Returning with Alice and Rose, I saw himJames, as he introduced himselfstanding there, smoking and shifting his weight. Ill invite him in for tea, I thought, and well see what fate has in store.

James lugged the bag all the way up to the sixth floor. The lift was out of order, of course. By the time I reached the third floor with the girls, he was already passing us on his way down.

Waitmy hero! Wont let you leave without a proper thank you and a cup of hot tea! I said, clutching his jacket with a frostbitten hand.

Well, James hesitated, eyeing the girls, are you sure I wouldnt be intruding?

Not at all! Take the girls hands, Ill nip ahead and get the kettle on. I heard myself say it, with no hint of fear.

I didnt want to lose him. He already felt like family. Over tea, James offered me a job as his assistant. The wage was more than I made from a years worth of toasters.

Naturally, I nodded, almost weeping with gratitude at such an offer.

James had been married once before, now going through divorce; had a son with his first wife.

Things moved quickly. We married. James adopted my daughters, and life was a dizzying, effortless dance. We bought a grand, four-bedroom flat, furnished with the best. Built ourselves a cottage in the country. Every year, wed holiday by the sea. It was the high life, sweet as an orchard in June.

Seven years of cloudless happiness passed. It seemed, having achieved comfort and bliss, James began to pour himself drinks at every occasion. At first, I ignored ithe worked hard, he deserved some peace. But when he began drinking more at work, I grew wary. Pleading and reasoning got me nowhere.

Now, Im impetuous by nature. To divert him from the bottle, I decidedId have his child. I was thirty-nine, mind you. My friends were shocked but amused.

Go on, Cathy, they laughed, maybe well all be mad enough to be new mums at forty.

But I always said: If you end a pregnancy, youll regret it bitterly. If you have the baby, no matter what, youll never wish them away.

Soon, James and I welcomed twinstwo more daughters! With four girls in the house, the drinking didnt stop. I endured as long as I could, then yearned to move away, start fresh, keep animals. Itd be healthier for the kidsand James wouldnt have time for pubs.

We sold the flat and the cottage, bought a house in a little village and started a lovely café. James found a new passion: hunting. He bought a rifle and every conceivable bit of gear, with plenty of game in the local woods.

Things were alrightuntil one night, James came home in a rage. I dont know what hed drunk, but he turned savage. He smashed up the crockery, the furniture, then came after us. Grabbed the gun and blasted the ceiling.

The girls and I bolted to the neighbours place. It was terrible.

In the morning, all was silent. We crept back. The scene was not for the faint-hearted. I hated the girls had to see it. Everything shattered, nothing to sit, eat, or sleep on. James slept on the floor, dead to the world.

I gathered what I could, and, with the girls in tow, went to my mums. She lived nearby in the same village. Mum fretted, Oh Cathy, what will you do with these girls? Go back to your husbandmarriage is full of rough patches. Somehow, things work out.

Mum always believed in suffering quietly as long as the husband was handsome.

Two days on, James appeared. Thats when I ended it. He didnt remember his performance, wouldnt believe my tall tales. But I was past caring. I cut ties. Burned the bridges.

I hadnt a clue how wed manage. Better to scrape by and be alive than end up senseless or worse by his hand.

We had to sell the café for next to nothing, leaving the village in haste. We moved to the next one over, in a tiny, battered house.

The older girls found jobs, and, thanks be, soon married. The twins were only in Year Five. All of them adored James and stayed in touch with him, so I always heard how he was. He begged me, through the girls, to return. Come on, Mum, stop being stubborn. Dads truly sorryhes begged you a hundred times! Think of yourself; youre not twenty-five anymore But I wouldnt budge. All I wanted was a calm, uneventful life.

Two years rolled by.

Loneliness gnawed at me; I missed James. Id had to pawn all the rings hed given mecouldnt buy them back. I mourned them. I thought more and more about our old life. There had been love in our house, after all. James had loved all four girls, always looked out for me, knew how to apologise. Ours had been a proper family. Everyones happiness is their ownwhy crave someone elses? What more could I wish for?

Now, even the older girls only called. Never visited. I understoodyouth will have its way. Soon the twins would be off too, and Id be left to rattle around the house by myself. Girls, like goslingsthey get their feathers and then off they fly.

So in the end, I asked the twins to quiz their fathersee how he was truly doing. Any woman in his life? The twins pried gently; James told all. He was living and working in another city. Hadnt touched a drop. Completely alone.

Hed given the girls his new addressjust in case.

And so, now weve been together five more years.

I told youIm an adventurer at heart!