Splitting: Sitting in the Bank With Husband in Tears

I pulled up to the bank to meet Husband. I hadn’t seen him since before Baby #3 and the surgery.  My stomach ached and I wanted to vomit.  I did not want to look at his face or see his dark eyes or curly hair.  But our accounts were still combined. I know it had only been one week, but I didn’t want to take any chances that he could clean me out and leave me nothing for the kids.

Before the affair, I never thought be might “clean me out.” I never dreamed of such a thing. I was married to a kind man.  But now, I just felt like I didn’t know Husband anymore. If he was capable of an affair with all the lies and broken promises that go with it, then would he hesitate to leave me with nothing? I couldn’t take the chance with two kids.  We needed to split the bank accounts and we needed to do it now.

As I watched the F-150 pull into the spot next to meet, I froze. I didn’t want to leave the safety of my car and deal with the fury that was rising inside of me. I couldn’t even look at Husband. Why had he done all of this?  What did he think would happen?

His door swung open, and two blue Nike shoes hit the pavement.  I didn’t make eye contact. I didn’t even look his way.  My ugly and smudged shoes made their way to the bank in a huff and stomping fashion.

Nothing made sense.  Where there was once clarity, I now only saw confusion.  The life that we had built together was over and now the untangling began.  How did the family I saw as solid, steady, and my number one priority in life now seem like the biggest complicated mess and burden I had ever encountered?

“We need to separate our accounts please,” I instructed the poor banker in front of me. He looked at Husband and then me, confused at first, but then panicked, and finally nodded in understanding.

“Please have a seat. We can help you in a minute.”

I sat down on an uncomfortable nondescript grey sofa. Husband was in the chair to my left.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.  How could you do this? We were fine.”

“Steph, you knew things weren’t great. You even said that we needed to connect.”

“Yeah, I wanted to go out more but not you go out and leave me at home as your babysitter.”

We were called to the desk behind some cheap fake glass.  An older woman sat in front of us, asked us for our ID’s and began the separation process. Separate bank accounts, separate cars, separate homes, separate lives…. But we began with the money.

Husband was more than generous given the fact that we had to split everything.  He gave me most of the money and only kept a smaller portion so he could continue to run his business and live.  He didn’t fight or argue.  He gave me the house, the crappy Expedition, and the furniture.  He was being so easy. It almost made angrier. Why did he have to be so nice about everything? Damn him.

Then I cried. I cried at the bank, in front of Husband, and in front of the crumpled heavy set lady behind the desk.  Tears poured from my eyes and I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough.  Broken and upset I stared into the nothingness that was my unforeseen future.

I looked over and Husband was crying too.