The Trust

Chapter 32: The Cracks

At the best of times, January is like one long, dreary Monday. All the Christmas cheer has evaporated, swept away like discarded wrapping paper. Soft and cozy December snow is now tinged with muck and soot from passing cars, forming a dirty ice crust along the sidewalks. The fizz of New Year' Eve has gone flat and memories of carefree December spending come roaring back with the opening of credit card statements, like the sharp stab of a hangover. 

Like everyone, I hate January, but not this year. My new job is enormously satisfying. I'm management now, and have a staff of exactly one but he does the work of five. Jerome is a sharp, young business graduate looking for work experience — as an assistant, he's hardworking, reliable and conscientious. I love the world of real estate, I just hate the administrative drudgery. Now that I don't have to worry about endless paperwork, I can focus on the aspects of the job I like. The days fly by and before I know it, it's nearly February.

I've not heard anything about the money in a long time, I've been too busy at work. Audrey's checked out of the situation, focusing on applying for universities and Jake is swamped at the shelter. None of my family talks about it with me so I don't know what's happening — and I don't want to know. The only thing that's painfully clear is that no one has received a large amount of cash yet — I certainly would have heard about it if they had. And Mom's not saying a word.

She moved back in. No explanation, no "sorry, I didn't back you up when the whole town turned against you," no nothing. She just came bundling through the door one day with all of her bags. "Whew! I could murder a cup of tea," she said, dropping them on the kitchen floor. "Put the kettle on, love?"

In true Douglas tradition, she resisted talking about the situation or anything negative. "Let's just let it be, OK? I don't want to argue," she said, refusing to tell me what's going on when I press her about Rob and the magical money.

"What do you care? You don't believe it going to happen, so it's not your business," she said, with a haughty stare. Imaginary money has made her arrogant. I knew having cash changed people, but I never thought it would happen to my sweet mother. She's had a total personality transplant, and the money isn't even real. Not that anyone is admitting that just yet. 

For the sake of our relationship, I put it all aside. But it's weird and stressful having this thing between us.

So we push it all down to coexist in relative harmony. Life is a busy whirl of working, and balancing the needs of my mom and my kid on a daily basis. Another reason I was enjoying January for the first time in my life was because Clive was out of the house. I had a sense that things would be better for me if I just took that leap of faith and kicked him out, but I had no idea how much better. I felt alive again, found little moments of gratitude and joy every day without the fear that someone was going to steal my happiness as soon as I walked in the door.

I read in the evenings — self improvement books, mostly. I listened to podcasts and audiobooks that lulled me to sleep at night with soft words of encouragement. I would repeat a mantra to myself at night just as I was falling asleep: thank you. 

Looking back, I couldn't believe I was the same person from just a few months ago. That woman was holding on to a disaster of a marriage, just because she was too scared to take a jump into the unknown. She thought she should hold on to someone who shredded her confidence, made her unhappy and tore her down — just because of the time she'd already put in and a foolish notion that she could change him. I became aware of the term 'sunk cost fallacy' — the idea that because you've invested so much time, money, energy in something, you should continue to do so even when it's been proven to be bad for you. As one of my podcast relationship gurus said, 'the only thing worse than spending 20 years with the wrong person is spending 20 years and one day.' That truth bomb really socked me in the gut.