Two days later, on Tuesday, after Itay only came to pick up the girls from home at six-thirty, and not at four o’clock as was agreed, Manny prepared a surprise for the girls. Yarden’s kindergarten didn’t organize a bonfire, so Yarden hadn’t celebrated a traditional Lag B'Omer. He asked me to bring the girls over to his house in the late afternoon. From there, he took us to an open area not far from his home. The place was scorched from the fires that had been lit there in the past few days. We weren’t alone; there were several groups of children celebrating Lag B'Omer late.
Manny collected some abandoned firewood and made us a little fire containing potatoes wrapped in silver foil. He bought each of my daughters a small archery set, and after we put out the fire and returned to his home, he taught the girls how to shoot a bow and arrow while I prepared dinner for us.
The pleasant and relaxed atmosphere compensated for the heartache they felt from Itay’s absence.
In the following weeks, Itay kept on letting the girls down, and each time the girls were upset because they didn't see their father. They asked difficult questions like, “Dad didn't want to see us?" and “Doesn’t Dad like us anymore?" I had to defend him. I would convey these messages back to Itay, who was angry himself, and said that it was because of me that he didn't get to see the girls, even though he never asked for another visitation day, and that I should stop playing with his conscience. Even on his weekends with the girls, he sometimes had to go to work and had Zehava look after them.
I realized it was a very stressful time in his office and, because of the economic crisis, there was a fear of being fired, but I thought that after so many years, he was sufficiently established in the company, and, with all due respect to work and the recession, our girls should come first.
As time went by, the girls cared less and less about Itay being late and enjoyed the meetings with Manny more and more. Without warning, and right under Itay’s nose, Manny stole not only his wife's heart, but also the hearts of his daughters.
Itay’s conduct was outrageous. I hoped that our separation would give him the slap in the face he needed, but he kept doing what he’d always done, and now hurt not only me, but also his daughters. What hurt particularly was the knowledge that he knew how to find the time, when he wanted to, for those who needed him. I remembered the many days he devoted to his army reserve unit. He was careful to point out that this was a national duty and not his choice, but I knew how few men actually did their reserve duty, and I knew it was always a national choice rather than a national duty.
At the end of June, Itay again proved that he could find time for things that were important to him. In the last week of June, Oren’s dad died of cancer. Suddenly, Itay managed to take time off to attend the funeral. He went from the cemetery with Oren to Oren's parents’ home in Kiryat Ono. His best friend's father had died, and maybe it wasn’t the time to be petty, but it bothered me that, for his friends, he was ready to give up hours at work, but for his children, he couldn’t. True, such an event wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but Itay was either late or canceled on the girls almost every week.
Oren's dad passed away on a Monday. On Tuesday, Itay told me that I should understand the situation and that he wouldn’t take the girls that day because he should be there for Oren. I wanted to shout that he needed to be there for the girls, but I knew it would just piss him off. For once, he wanted to take the kids on a different day instead, and took them for a long weekend on Thursday. Maybe all this preoccupation with death did something tohim.
Because I was free on Thursday, I decided to go myself to offer my condolences to Oren and his mother.
I’d met Oren's mother several times at family occasions. When we purchased the apartment in Givatayim, we hired her as our interior designer and the both of us just really clicked. We simply communicated on the same wavelength. It was really important to me now to go and comfort her. I really cared. I knew there would be a hefty price to pay because it meant seeing Hila for the first time since Itay and I had broken up.
I debated whether to go with Manny. He only lived a few blocks down from their house of mourning, but I knew that his presence wouldn’t be welcome, and I had no interest in any hostility, only in seeing Gila with my genuine sympathies.
When I went into the house of mourning, the first familiar face I saw was Oren's brother, who was sitting with some friends on the grass by the entrance. He smiled at me, and I tried to remember if he would recognize me.
"You’re Itay’s wife, right?"
"About to be his ex-wife." I smiled.
He smiled back. "Sorry, I forgot. Actually, Hila talks about it endlessly."
"It's okay." I smiled back. "Oren and your mother home?"
"Yeah, right, they must be in the living room."
Right at the entrance to the house, I ran into Hila.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed in surprise.
“I came to make my condolences," I answered in the most relaxed tone I could muster.
"You’ve got a nerve, you know?" she said, partly a question, partly a statement.
"Is it rude to pay my condolences?”
"Don’t be so naïve." She put her hands on her hips and nervously tapped her fingers. "Everyone here knows what you've done to Itay, and I don't think Oren or his mother will be happy or be comforted by your presence."
I wanted to yell at her, but I knew it wasn’t the time or the place, so instead I said quietly, almost in a whisper, "You’ve no idea what happened between me and Itay. Don't try to judge," and I just walked into the living room.
Oren was sitting, talking to a friend whose face was familiar, but I couldn’t remember from where. I approached him and told him I was very sad to hear about his father’s passing. Oren thanked me for coming and offered me a chair. I sat down and looked around the room. I was looking for Gila.
A few minutes later, she entered the room. When she saw me, she came up to me and hugged me warmly. Over her shoulder, I saw Hila burning with anger.
"Let's talk privately," Gila said, pulling me out to a quiet side porch.
It turned out that Gila was sick of talking about her dead husband. Although the death was hard and painful, she had nursed him for months, and his death was no surprise. It was actually kind of a relief.
Rather than talking about the death of her husband all over again, Gila wanted to hear my side of the story. She’d heard from Hila what a terrible person I was, that I’d cheated on poor, innocent Itay and ultimately put my personal gain above the rest of my family’s best interests by deciding to get a divorce and destroy my girls’ home and life.
"That's pretty much the story." I smiled at Gila.
"Because I know you and especially because I know Hila, and I know how judgmental she can be, I'm sure that's not exactly it.” Gila folded her arms and smiled. She wanted to hear my side of the story.
So I told her about living with Itay before the betrayal, the difficulties, the dying relationship. I couldn’t help comparing our relationship to that of Oren and Hila. Oren also worked late and traveled a lot. Everyone remembered how he went abroad for six months. Hila, unlike me, didn't complain. She seemed happy with her place in life as a mother and a wife.
"Hila doesn’t go out to work," Gila reminded me. "Don't think she’s not resentful."
"She’s resentful?" I tried to sound surprised.
"Her criticism and judgments stem from her insecurity," Gila explained knowingly. "If she was really at peace with what she does, she might have been able to accept you."
"I never really thought about it.”
"That drives Hila even crazier, because you, on the other hand, come up a lot in her thoughts.”
"Really?" I widened my eyes in surprise. I was sure that I was the last person in the world who interested her.
"Really, really. If you ask me, there’s a reason for that – and it’s very surprising.”
"What?" I was curious.
"I have a feeling that s
he’s been in love with Itay for years."
"Noooo!" I opened my eyes in disbelief. "You're not serious."
"Maybe I'm wrong," she immediately withdrew, "but that's my feeling. In any case, she’s consumed with jealousy and your success as a lawyer.”
"I always had a feeling that she was trying to arouse my envy.”
"Of course, if you were jealous of her, it would slightly reduce her jealousy.”
I was shocked.
"Tell me," she turned to me. "Do you get along with your mother-in-law?"
"Ex, very soon." I smiled. “Yes, I get along pretty well with her.”
"I'm guessing you still get along with her.”
"Considering the circumstances, yes.”
"Hila doesn’t get along with me," she revealed sadly. "I really don't think I'm a bad or annoying mother-in-law. Hila just can't take criticism or hear an opinion that’s different from hers. She always treats me like I'm at war with her. On the other hand, I know that you always got along with Itay’s mother, not just because she’s such a wonderful woman, but also because you’re a comfortable person. This is also why, when I heard you broke up with Itay, I couldn’t believe you’d do it out of spite.”
"Really, there was no spite. I did it because it wasn’t a good way to live." I looked down.
Gila reached out and stroked my hand. "You know what I thought?" she almost whispered.
"What?"
"That we’re in similar situations, you and me. Divorce and death are very similar processes.”
"I thought that too." I looked up and smiled. We were still on the same wavelength.
“It’s just that you're on Chapter Two of your life.”
"True," I replied and again looked down. I felt bad for her.
"So tell me a little about this Chapter Two of yours.”
I told her about Manny, and she absorbed my story eagerly.
"I'm happy for you," she said finally.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. You only live once. Everyone needs to do only what’s best for them.”
I hugged her and went back into the living room to the other mourners.
I said goodbye to Oren and nodded in the direction of Hila, who sent a twisted grimace my way.
I thought she’d be satisfied with that, but she escorted me out to the yard, and when we were alone, she got it all off her chest. She was obviously shocked by my animalistic (her word) behavior. What kind of mother was I, she accused me, ruining my children’s home for some romance! She’d obviously known, all those years, from the moment I’d started dating Itay, that I’d be bad for him, and that I’d be an unsupportive partner and a bad mother.
I didn’t waste my time answering her. There’s no educating a woman her age. I just told her that I might be a bad mother, but at least I was there for my girls, and the next time she saw Itay, she should ask him why he didn't bother to see his children on the days and hours we’d set.
That obviously shut her up. She looked at me in amazement.
I have not seen her since that day.
I can't say that I ever missed her.
CHAPTER 31
July 2009 was one of the busiest months of my life.
During the first week of the month, we sold the apartment. It wasn’t hard. It was a seller's market, and we managed to get a great price.
After Itay and I had gotten married, we moved into an old apartment that belonged to my parents in Ramat Gan. We were students, and the apartment was in line with our economic and social position. Once I’d gotten the license to practice law for the first time, we talked about expanding, having children. We’d need a larger apartment that was friendlier for parents with babies. We were living, at that time in two-and-a-half rooms on the third floor with no elevator. We knew in advance that we were aiming to have two or three children, and we decided we should look for a five-bedroom apartment so we’d have a master bedroom, two bedrooms, a playroom and a study.
Itay thought to look in Kiryat Ono, near his parents. Of course, I wanted to go back to my hometown, Givatayim.
In the end, we compromised: Givatayim, of course. Because up to that point in time, we’d lived modestly and were lucky enough to have been given a nice sum by our parents, we could purchase a small apartment. Not wanting to compromise on the size of the apartment and the area, we had to take out a tiny mortgage, but we paid it off within five years. We bought a new apartment, but not from a contractor, so it was not particularly cheap. Although we paid quite a high price, eight years later we sold that flat for a profit of thirty percent. The buyers gave a generous price, but they wanted a quick transaction so they could get their children into the local kindergartens and schools that started in September.
The sale of our marital home forced me to look for an alternative apartment for me and the girls while it also raised the issue of moving in with Manny. According to the divorce contract, there was nothing preventing Manny from living with me in the new apartment, but I felt that, even though the girls already knew Manny and really liked him, going to live with Manny just three months after I’d left Itay would be too much for Shira and Yarden. I wanted them to get used to a situation where Itay wasn’t a member of the household. Manny, for his part, was convinced that once I’d sold the apartment, not only would we move in together, but that we’d buy a new place to be our joint home. He thought it was a shame to put the money I received in a zero-interest account and, if we were going to live together sometime soon in any case, why not put the money to good use right now?
In terms of living together, I knew it would happen at some point, but I still didn't want to buy an apartment with Manny just yet. Even though I had a great love for Manny, I was afraid that if, after we moved in together, we found that it didn’t work out, it would just be too much upheaval for Shira and Yarden.
I really wanted to find an apartment in the area where we already lived. I didn't want to take the girls away from their schools and their friends. I decided I’d buy an apartment, even though the prices were sky high and I could only afford half the full asking price, but mortgage interest rates were so low that it was a shame not to take advantage of the situation. When I first started to look for an apartment, I was sorry I’d sold so quickly without seeking an alternative beforehand. I discovered that the market was very difficult – a relatively low supply and a lot of demand. At some point, I decided to increase the search radius, but I’d be more selective.
A week and a half after we sold the apartment, while I was busy searching for an apartment without a bit of help from Itay, I finally received my divorce papers. Four months after I’d decided that's what I wanted, I was finally newly divorced and happy.
There was nothing happy about the proceedings themselves, which were quite humiliating and unpleasant, but I somehow managed to disengage myself from it emotionally and connect to what was really important: being a single woman. Itay gave me no problems, coming to all the meetings we had set in the rabbinical court on time. At first, I was afraid that he’d play games and try for a reconciliation, but as time went on and his level of resentment toward me rose, so did his desire to give me a divorce.
When we left the rabbinical court, I looked at him and my heart ached. He seemed so lonely. He didn't share his personal life with me, but from what I’d heard from the girls and his mother, he wasn’t seeing anyone and wasn’t even looking. Itay’s single life allowed him to sink even more into work because, finally, there was no one to get angry with him every night. I wanted to hug him before we parted. I was reminded of celebrity couples who put on a show for the paparazzi and walk out of the rabbinical court embracing, and I wanted to do it too. But Itay was as remote as ever, and I knew a hug would not be welcome.
I asked my mother to pick up the girls that day from kindergarten and school and take them to sleep over at her house. It was hard to see them that day. I was trying to work out how I felt. I had a lot of sadness and a sense of missed opportunity and lots and l
ots of guilt toward the girls, but at the same time, I was very happy and free. I swung between those two extremes the entire day. I didn't plan anything that day. I took the day off because I didn't know how long we'd be in the rabbinical court, and I planned to continue my search for an apartment after that. In reality, I was just too tired. I was mentally exhausted. I went home and just stared at the TV. Manny was in clinic that day until late in the evening, and we hadn’t planned to meet at all.
I decided to surprise him. I called the clinic and asked if there was an opening for an appointment. There was cancelation that day for six o’clock. I wore a wraparound flowered dress that fastened at the front with just a button and a belt. I chose a dress that I knew I could open with one yank. Everything was planned: I would enter his office and open my dress with a quick tug. Under the dress, of course, I was naked. The thought of having sex while the rest of his patients waited outside was exciting.
I waited impatiently in the waiting room. I crossed my legs carefully, because I was afraid someone would notice that I was naked under my dress. Eventually, I got into Manny’s office at a quarter to seven.
"Sharry," he smiled. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't answer, just quickly tugged my belt, opening the dress. My naked body appeared in front of Manny's startled face. He jumped to his feet and moved quickly toward me. I thought he was going to pounce on me, as he did that first time, nine months or so ago, but he ran to the door and locked it. He approached me and almost forcibly closed my dress.
"What are you doing?" he asked angrily.
I looked at him, shocked, tears in my eyes. I dropped my head.
"I'm in the middle of work here… There are other patients after you, and my secretary could come in at any moment. What the hell were you thinking?"
Confession of an Abandoned Wife - Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 25
