The moment Miranda heard this, she snatched the divorce agreement. After she read the terms, she suddenly looked up. Her eyes then widened with disbelief.
"Anthony, have you gone nuts?"
"What right do you have to steal my daughter from me and force me out of the house? Do you really think that just because I love you, I can tolerate all your shitty temper?"
"I’m not the nuts one, you’re the one who’s gone nuts."
I told her as I looked her straight in the eye.
"You’ve let both Olive and me down. What’s wrong with me reclaiming the property that rightfully belongs to me?"
Slap!
Without further ado, my mother’s hand landed hard against my cheek. The burning pain from the slap spread instantly to my ears. I turned my head and amid the buzzing in my ears, I could barely make out her furious voice.
"How could I have given birth to such an ungrateful son like you?! Miranda already works during the day to support you, then fishes and cooks for you at night. Where else can I find a wife like her?"
"I often go fishing with Miranda, sometimes all night. And your father never even complains. Miranda even praises you for being such a good husband, but now you’re trying to pull out shit like this!"
"Miranda just developed a hobby, that’s all. Plenty of people enjoy fishing! How is that an insult to you? And why on earth should she be kicked out?"
I slowly tilted my head back, while pressing the tip of my tongue against my numb cheek and then tasted the bitter tang of rust. From my peripheral vision, Miranda stood nearby, smirking slightly as if she were watching something that had nothing to do with her.
Everyone assumed that she was a truly wonderful woman and marrying her was the blessing I had earned over lifetimes.
Whenever there was even a slight conflict, Miranda wouldn’t utter a single word as my parents would jump in to teach me how to love my wife. She continued to coax me with soft words and expensive gifts, handed over for free, sparking envy from countless people who thought I had it all.
Nevertheless, the cabinet that was full of gifts, like this table full of seafood platter, had become a mark of shame for me.
"It was my dad who could tolerate it. That was his problem. But I couldn’t."