I remember it as though it happened only yesterday, though the years have marched on since. The words of my husband, William, still ring in my mind: Helen, Ill be fine without you, but youre lost without me! He might as well have swept the rug right out from under my feet; it wasnt just hurtfulit was a challenge aimed straight at my very heart. Did he truly believe I was weak, dependent on him, that my world would fall apart without him? Well, Id show him. From that day on, I resolved that I would no longer be an accessory in his life. I took a part-time job to build something of my ownno thanks to his so-called concern. He needed to see that I would not simply survive, but become stronger than he could ever imagine.
William and I had been married for eight years. He was always the man of the house, making the money, making the rules, telling me what I should do. Before we married, Id worked as a receptionist at a beauty salon. But after the wedding, he insisted that I give it up: Helen, why bother with all that? I earn enough for the both of us. I thought he was being caring, so I agreed. With time, I realised it was just control. He decided what I wore, who I could see, even how I prepared his tea. I had become the housewife, my world shrunk down to his approval. Then one day, following yet another argument, he uttered those unforgettable words: Youre nothing without me! They stung like a hot iron.
That particular argument started over something trivialI wanted to spend a weekend at my friends in Oxford, but he put his foot down: Helen, youre not going anywhere. Wholl sort out the roast on Sunday? I was outraged: William, Im not your charwoman! And then he delivered that line. I stood rooted, thunderstruck, as he simply stormed off to the next room, as if nothing had happened. For me, though, it was a turning point. I lay awake all night, turning his words round and round in my head. Was he right? Could I not make it on my own? But slowly, indignation welled up inside me. No, William, I would prove just how wrong you were.
The very next day, I acted. I phoned my old friend Margaret, who worked at a café in town, and asked if she knew any job openings. She was surprised: Helen, you havent worked in years! Whatever for? I replied, To prove I can. One week later, I started working part-time as a waitress. No, it wasnt my dream job, running after customers with heavy trays and a forced smile. Yet when I received my first wages, even if it was only £60, I nearly wept with pride. Me, Helen, whom William had called useless, had made her own money!
William just scoffed: So youre working yourself to the bone for a few quid? Pathetic. Pathetic? I smiled: Lets see whos laughing when I stand on my own two feet. He was convinced Id give up after a week, but I carried on. The job was tough, true, but each day I felt a little stronger. I began saving a bit each weeknot much, but it was my freedom fund. I started considering courses, maybe training as a nail technician or learning bookkeeping. I hadnt yet decided, but I knew one thing: I would never again return to a life where William decides who Im allowed to be.
My mother only sighed and shook her head: Helen, why put yourself through all this? Cant you and William settle your differences? Make peace? I asked myself, why would I reconcile with someone who sees me as worthless? Margaret, by contrast, cheered me on: Brilliant, Helen! Show him youre more than an afterthought! Her encouragement gave me strength. Still, at times, I doubted myself. On evenings when I dragged myself home, tired to the bone, and William greeted me with cold silence, I wonderedwhat if he was right? What if I truly couldnt do it? But then Id remember his words and realiseI had to hang on. Not for himfor me.
Two months passed, and gradually, I saw changes; Id lost a bit of weight since I no longer idled away my boredom with sponge cake. I learned to say nonot just to customers, but to William, too. One evening, when he grumbled, Helen, make me supper, Im hungry!, I replied, William, Ive just finished work; lets order a curry. He was lost for words. He was finally starting to see that I wasnt the old Helen any longer. And I was learning who I really was.
Sometimes, I dreamed that he might apologise: Helen, I was wrong. But William never admitted to mistakes. He waited, expecting Id see sense and turn back into the good little wife Id once been. But that never happened. The café job was only the beginning. I wanted my own place, my own career, my own life. And if he thought Id fall to pieces without him, well, he could watch as I soared. If he left? I knew now I would survive. For IHelenwas far stronger than he ever guessed.
