“Come to my wedding with Claire and bring the girls. Your invitation includes a +1, but we both know you don’t have anyone.”
That was very Max.
We had been married for almost thirteen years and had two daughters, ten and three, when he decided I no longer looked the way he wanted.
“You don’t look like you used to,” he told me.
Then I discovered Claire. His personal trainer. When I confronted him about the affair, Max didn’t apologize.
“What did you expect? Men are visual. Claire is perfect.”
I stood in our bedroom while he packed.
“You cheated because I gained weight?”
“You used to have a slim waist, Ronnie. When was the last time you even looked at yourself in the mirror?”
After that, I looked constantly. At my stomach. My arms. My reflection from the side. I changed clothes because I could still hear Max telling me what I should hide. Then he announced he was marrying Claire. I could have skipped the wedding, but our daughters were going, and my oldest kept asking whether I would be there. So I said yes. Then I looked at the +1. I wanted Max to see that I was fine. More than fine.
