Saturday, December 29
I woke up at three in the morning. My mind began racing. JB said he wouldn’t touch the kids’ college funds. Most of those funds came from my family money. He’s considering siphoning it. I typed an email to my attorney and tried going back to sleep but could’t.
After hours of flipping around in bed and trying to meditate myself to sleep, I met my old high school friend, Abby, for brunch. She was in town from Charlotte. I’d pulled myself together, but not completely.
“JB never seemed the type—at all,” Abby said shaking her head. “I’m shocked.”
“Twenty-one years of marriage and I have no idea who he is.”
“JB wasn’t nice to me,” Abby said.
“You, too? Apparently he was awful to all my friends.”
“You know how Don always talks to you, asks you questions, cares what you have to say? JB acted like he didn’t want to talk to me. Every time I asked him something he’d give me the shortest answer possible and brush me off. He’d talk to Don but not to me. When I flew in for your book release party he barely spoke to me.”
“I had no idea. Please don’t take it personally. It’s just him. Him and his garbage. Let’s not talk about JB anymore. I’m sick of thinking about him, spending energy on him. Sometimes I visualize killing him. You know what that does to you? How poisonous that is? I feel psychotic, terrible, like I’m coming off the rails, having a nervous breakdown."
“I started taking anti-depressants,” Abby said. “I’ve been feeling unfulfilled, unhappy for a long time. Marriage is hard. Raising kids is stressful. I don’t like my job.” Abby moved her hand out in front of her in a straight line. “Now I’m like this. I never get very happy or angry. But I was like that before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”