Actually, I can. The house is in my name. Remember? You were too busy with law school when we bought it, so I handled all the paperwork. It was a low blow, and we both knew it.
But 18 years of marriage had taught me exactly where to aim to cause maximum damage. Monica's face hardened. Fine, but I'm taking Lily with me. Like heck you are. She's my daughter, too.
She's 17 years old in Maine. She can choose which parent to live with. Want to bet which one she picks? We stared at each other across the table. Two people who'd once promised to love each other until death do us part.
Now calculating how much damage we could inflict. This is really how you want to play it? Monica asked. You started this game when you invited your boyfriend to dinner. I'm just playing to win.
She stood up, threw a $5 bill on the table, and walked out without another word. I watched her drive away in her BMW, probably heading straight to Trent's apartment to cry on his shoulder. My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. You think you've won something, but you have no idea what you've started. I showed the message to the waitress, a middle-aged woman named Dolores, who'd been working at the diner since before I was born.
Sounds like someone's mad at you, honey," she said, refilling my coffee cup. "Yeah," I said. "And I'm just getting started making them matter." Monica moved in with her best friend, Janet, a social media manager who treated drama like currency, and always seemed to have her phone out recording everything. Janet lived in a trendy downtown apartment that screamed trying too hard, exposed brick walls, industrial lighting, and furniture that looked expensive but uncomfortable. I knew this because Lily told me.
Despite Monica's attempts to turn our daughter against me, Lily had chosen to stay at the house. "Partly because her friends were all in our school district, but mostly because she was tired of her mother's BS." "Mom's acting crazy," Lily said one evening while we ate takeout Chinese on the couch. "She keeps crying and saying you ruined her life." "What do you think?" Lily considered this while twirling lion around her chopsticks. "I think she ruined her own life when she started cheating on you. I'm not stupid, Dad.
I knew something was going on. You never said anything. Would it have mattered? Adults never listen to kids about this stuff anyway. She had a point.
At 17, Lily had already developed a cynicism that probably came from watching her parents' marriage slowly disintegrate. "Are you okay with all this?" I asked. She shrugged. "Are you going to start dating other people?" The question caught me off guard. "I haven't really thought about it." "Good, because that would be weird.
At least wait until I graduate. I laughed despite everything. Deal. The next few days fell into a strange rhythm. I went to work adjusting insurance claims and pretending my personal life wasn't imploding.
Lily went to school and came home with updates on Monica's increasingly erratic behavior. And somewhere across town, Monica and Trent were probably plotting their next move. I didn't have to wait long to find out what that would be. Thursday night, I was in the garage working on an old motorcycle I'd been restoring when three cars pulled into my driveway. Monica's BMW, Trent Audi, and a Toyota I didn't recognize.
Car doors slammed and I could hear voices, angry voices approaching. I wiped my hands on a shop rag and stepped outside. Monica was leading a small army. Trent, Janet, and two other women I recognized from the law firm. They looked like they were ready for war.
"Jack," Monica called out, her voice carrying across the yard. We need to talk. We already talked at the diner, remember? This is different. They arranged themselves on my front lawn like a firing squad.
Trent hung back, probably remembering our last encounter. Smart move. What's this about, Monica? It's about you spreading lies and trying to destroy my reputation. I haven't told any lies.
Everything I said at the restaurant was true. Janet stepped forward, her phone already out and recording. You attacked Trent. That's battery. We have witnesses.
I spilled a drink on him. Accidents happen. It wasn't an accident, Trent said, finally finding his voice. You deliberately prove it, I interrupted. One of the other women, a redhead whose name I couldn't remember, spoke up.
Monica's told us everything about your controlling behavior, your threats, your refusal to let her explore her romantic freedom. I almost laughed. Is that what she told you that I'm controlling? Aren't you? Janet asked, still recording.
You kicked her out of her own house. You're trying to turn her daughter against her. Her daughter chose to stay with me and it's my house, not hers. That's not how marriage works, the redhead said. Community property doesn't apply when one spouse commits adultery.
I finished. I'm sure Monica can explain the legal implications to you. She is a lawyer after all. Monica's face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. You're being vindictive, Jack.
This isn't about the law. It's about doing what's right. You want to talk about what's right? Let's talk about honesty, commitment, respect. You know, all those things you promised when we got married.
People change, Trent said. Monica's evolved beyond your narrow definition of marriage. That did it. I stepped closer to him, close enough that he instinctively backed up. Evolved?
Is that what you call being with your co-worker's wife, Jack? Monica snapped. No, let's be honest here. Your boyfriend thinks adultery is evolution. I think it's just being a selfish piece of crap.
Janet was practically bouncing with excitement, her phone capturing every word. This would probably be all over social media within the hour. You're making this harder than it needs to be, Monica said. All we want is a civilized conversation about how to move forward. Civilized?
You brought a camera crew to my front yard to ambush me. How is that civilized? We're documenting your behavior for the divorce proceedings, the redhead explained. Your threats, your aggression. What threats?
What aggression? I've been a model of restraint considering my wife invited her boyfriend to dinner and then moved in with her girlfriend when I objected. I looked directly at Janet's phone camera. For the record, I haven't threatened anyone. I haven't been violent or aggressive.
I simply refuse to be a loser in my own home. If that makes me the bad guy, so be it. The group exchanged glances. This clearly wasn't going the way they planned. "We're trying to be reasonable," Monica said.
"No, you're trying to manipulate me into accepting an unacceptable situation. There's a difference." "So, what do you want?" Trent asked. I looked at each of them in turn. Monica with her righteous indignation, Trent with his entitled smirk, Janet with her phone, the other women with their judgment. "I want you off my property," I said quietly.