We decide to tell the kids something about what’s going on. Helen returns from call in the afternoon and we sit them down in the family room to explain that mom and dad are having some problems but we’re trying to work them out. The news barely seems to register. Helen and I regard each other quizzically. We expected more questions from them. This has gone too well.
I’m still not eating, but I force myself to eat two pieces of toast with honey during the day. The toast feels like it has the texture of Styrofoam and it’s a struggle to finish it, but I make myself. If I don’t start eating soon, I’ll get sick, and that’s the last thing I need.
We sit down to eat a family dinner tonight, but I don’t get through more than a few bites. Helen and I do a good job maintaining an atmosphere of normalcy for the kids. Later though, she tells me that our son did indeed ask her if we’re getting divorced. She tells me she told him we hope not. I don’t know if he was comforted by that answer. I'm not, but it's better than where we were a few days ago. Everything is relative now.
When the kids are in bed, Helen tells me she has something to show me. I follow her into her study and she gives me a flow chart she’s drawn up in response to my proposal to try to reconcile -- suitably scientific coming from a doctor. She has agreed, though there are a number of caveats. She’s willing to give it six months, then take an appraisal to see where we are and decide if there’s any basis for continuing. Effort on my part is not enough, I must show concrete results. Failure will lead to divorce, the flow chart signifies. She also tells me that even if I succeed, she could still decide at the end of six months that her feelings for me can never be the same and that will also lead to divorce. This too is graphically illustrated with clinical clarity by the flow chart. She warns me that if at any point during the effort she decides she cannot let Pascal go, she will inform me and pull the plug on the reconciliation. She promises there will be no more going behind my back with him, she will tell me up front if she plans to see him again and that will be that.
It seems like the best I can reasonably hope for in the circumstances, so I agree. Helen further removes any illusions of raised hopes I may have been entertaining by telling me her primary motivation for agreeing to try and reconcile is for the children’s benefit. She also repeats that I need to do this for myself anyway, and her helping me come to terms with my character flaws will help assuage the guilt she feels for leaving me. This further undercuts my relief that she’s agreed to at least try to save our marriage, but if this is the only hand I’m dealt, I have to play it out.
Helen also informs me that she wants to reverse the sleeping arrangements, with me heading to the basement guest room and her taking our bed. I have no problem with that and agree. I head down to my new sleeping quarters and wonder if I’ve slept with Helen in our old marital bed for the last time. God, I hope not, but there’s much work to be done and I’m not kidding myself about the likelihood of success. I pop another Valium as I get ready for bed.
Excerpted from Diary Of A Divorce, by Richard Pearce, available for £8.99 from www.amazon.co.uk or for $14.75 from www.lulu.com See also Life As A Divorced Dad at http://www.singledad.blog.co.uk
