And he enjoys causing me pain.
Still, I'm going to help Penny. She's young, twenty-five maybe, much younger than most of the women who come here. Most of them have been stuck in bad marriages for their entire adult lives. For years they've been ignored, abandoned, told they don't matter.
But somehow, Penny came to her senses much sooner.
It's not always senses. It's awful men like Ryan, who convince their wives and girlfriends that they are worthless without them. Men like my father, who convinced my mother that leaving would hurt me, that his reputation was more important than her happiness, that her passion was somehow embarrassing.
I hate both the assholes.
Penny has been married for three years, and her husband is already ignoring her. He's given up everything she ever loved about him. And the prenup--a prenup she signed without speaking to a good lawyer, I'm sure–is awful. It's standard. Considered fair by all the other asshole divorce lawyers and their asshole clients.
She's not entitled to much. A one hundred fifty thousand dollar payoff. It's a lot to most people, but it's nothing to her husband. I hate prenups. I know, I'm in the wrong line of work, but I hate them. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership. It shouldn't be about me keeping what's mine and you getting nothing. About me getting everything after you give up your career for mine.
She arrives early. She's dressed nicely. Perfect hair and makeup. The image of a trophy wife.
But there's something weary about her as we make our introductions. This marriage is destroying her.
"We used to ski," she says. "We would fly to Europe for the weekend for no reason at all. He would take me to French lingerie shops and beg me to model underwear for him. He used to make me feel beautiful. Now... he doesn't even look at me."
It's the same old story. I hear it every day, sometimes once an hour. Where do all these men come from and why do they give up on their wives the second things get difficult?
"He was always busy," she says. "But he made a point of sitting with me when he got home from work. He asked me about school. He offered to help with my career. It was never forced. It was only an offer."
"What do you do?"
"Nothing. I studied psychology. He owns a software company. He offered me a job in marketing--a much higher position than I deserved--but I said no. I didn't want to muddy our relationship."
Penny purses her lips. She's trying to stay composed. Lots of women are like this. They hate when people see them cry.
I offer her a tissue.
She takes it, and nods a thank you. Once she's gathered herself she continues. "He was always a workaholic. I should have seen the signs. I should have known."
"Love does crazy things to us. I've overlooked far worse."
"Really?" she asks.
I nod. "You wouldn't believe how awful I am with women."
"You're right. I wouldn't believe that."
She smiles, but it's not flirtatious like it is with other women. Penny is still used to men taking an interest in her. She won't fall for a few compliments. She's friendly. Or maybe she's desperate to feel like she's not the only fuck-up in the world.
"It's true," I say. "I had a chance to have everything I wanted, and I didn't take it."
"Why not?"
Why couldn't I take Alyssa up on her offer? She was right--I'm not getting anything out of this relationship with Samantha. It assuages the uneasy feeling in my gut--the one that reminds me she might leave the world forever if I don't watch her carefully.
Even though I hate Samantha, I want her to be okay. But
I don't want her in my life. Not really. Even if it eases my guilt.
I left that bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table. I knew she might use them. I knew she was miserable. And, I have to admit it, a part of me wanted her to do it. A part of me wanted her to end our mutual suffering.
A part of me wanted to dare her.
"Mr. Lawrence?"