I am fifty now, and its been a year since my wife walked out with the children. She left while I was away and when I returned, the house was empty and quiet. It was weeks ago that I received the letter: a formal request for maintenance. Since then, its been taken automatically from my wages, like clockwork. I have no say in the matter. Theres no negotiating, no delaying. The money goes straight out, before I ever see it.
I won’t pretend I was a saint. I was unfaithful more than once. I never openly confessed, but I never truly hid it either. She would tell me she knew, that she could see things, sense things. I always insisted she was overreacting, imagining things that werent there.
My temper was something fierce. I shouted, lost my patience at the smallest things. In our home, my word was law; everything was done when and as I said. If anything displeased me, everyone knew it by the sharpness in my voice. Sometimes I would fling things across the room in a fit of rage. I never laid a hand on them, but often left them petrified.
It was only much later that I understood my children had grown scared of me. When Id come in from work, theyd fall silent. If I raised my voice, theyd scuttle off to their rooms. My wife, Katherine, tiptoed around me, measuring her words, avoiding any quarrel. At the time, I saw it as respect. Today I know it was nothing but fear.
Back then, none of it concerned me. I fancied myself as the breadwinner, the one in charge, setting the rules. When she finally had enough and decided to leave, I felt betrayedas if she was challenging me. That was when I made another mistake. I refused to send her moneynot for lack of means, but to get even, to punish her.
I convinced myself she would grow weary, see sense, and return that she couldnt manage without me. I told her plainly: shed get no money unless she came back. I declared I would support no one living apart from me.
But she didnt come crawling back. She went straight to a solicitor, filed for maintenance, brought every proofmy wages, our expenses, every detail. Before I knew it, the magistrate had ordered the deductions straight from my pay.
Since then, every month I see my salary diminished. Theres nothing I can hide, nowhere to turn. The money is gone before I can touch it.
Now, I have neither wife nor children at home. I see them rarely, always at a distance. There is little said between us. Its clear Im not wanted.
Financially, I am pressed as never before. I pay for rent, maintenance, debts; theres hardly a penny left. Sometimes anger wells up, sometimes only shame.
My sister Margaret told me plainly: I have no one to blame but myself.
