Teen Ink

Mary Zuckerman

I was fidgety, waiting for Sarah to get home from school. Sitting in the chair, I looked around for something to do. There must be something in this giant house. Cooking, no. Cleaning, no. Catalina had those covered. There was truly nothing in this entire house for me to do. So I just sat, looking out the window onto the beautiful Frankfort beach. Lake Michigan was always so beautiful. Then I began to think. Why did we need such a big house? Why did Dave insist on such a big house anyways? We had so many rooms that we had no idea what to do with. Dave was such a show off. Image was everything to him. It had to be perfect. And if it wasn’t, he threw a fit. After six years of marriage I was finally beginning to realize just how annoying and controlling he was. At first I was mesmerized by his blue eyes, short brown buzz cut and cute little build. But now I could see how cruel he was. He called me perfect, but turned around and made fun of a person who was just as beautiful and called them ugly. It was atrocious and uncalled for. I wanted a divorce. Woah. Woah. Woah. Slow down. Divorce? Was I really ready for what that might mean? What would happen to poor little Sarah? She was only five. Could I really divorce him? Could I really do it? I had to. I couldn’t stand being married to him any longer. It was torture. Yes. I would do it. Soon.