Choices

by Evelyn Khor

"I chose to stay on even though I was being beaten up because I felt that the children needed a father."

"As long as he still came home to see the children, I was willing to share my husband with another woman."

"I felt that my son needed a father, otherwise he would not have a role model,
so I tolerated his drinking."

Whenever I hear women share their sufferings and how as mothers they willingly sacrifice so much of themselves for their children, I am always reminded of Suzy. I first met Suzy ten years ago. She was immaculately groomed, well dressed and beautifully coiffured. I liked her immediately when I was introduced to her – she had that sparkle in her eyes that revealed a mischievous streak and a zest for life. There was that sureness in her voice that I liked and the pert little mouth that had a certain determination about it. Yes, Suzie was the tower of strength of which I was not. A qualified teacher, she gave up her career to follow her husband to the States and later to be at home with her children. She played the role of the perfect wife and mother to a tee.

I wanted so much to be like Suzy or at least be half as forgiving. She could forgive Edward when he came home with lipstick marks on his shirt or when she found those occasional ladies’ intimate apparel underneath the car seat. She could forgive him when he failed to turn up for the dinner she had lovingly prepared or when she found out that he had gone outstation when he was supposed to be in the office. But then I used to say to myself that it was not difficult to forgive Edward because he was always so charming towards Suzy whenever he was caught with his pants down. He would make up for his wrongs in the most flattering ways.

In forgiving Edward and by courageously choosing to stay in the marriage for the children’s sake, Suzy was able to continue to provide a normal home for the children. He may not spend much time with them. At least he was there for important occasions like speech days and prize giving ceremonies.

But I wasn’t Suzy and I could not be Suzy. I chose to walk away from a destructive relationship. I learnt to be father and mother to my children. It is physically exhausting juggling between work, shopping and ferrying children. It is also emotionally draining to be the sole disciplinarian. I can no longer say, 'wait till your father gets home.’

I feel the pain for my children when their father isn’t there to share their victories and I feel their embarrassment when their father is conspicuously absent from Parents-teachers nights. Father’s Day brings us memories of a time buried but not forgotten and we find ourselves bystanders in seemingly innocent games like "Dressing up Father."

Special celebrations like weddings are especially painful. I wonder whether it is because of the tinge of envy that creeps up whenever I see other happy couples at my table or whether it is because I have run out of excuses to explain for my spouse’s absence.

Family weddings, in particular, are most cruel for they are reminders that I have to live that reality of the choice I made. While sipping the tea offered to the elders I try to maintain that smile while fighting back the tears, so as not to choke on it. The empty seat next to mine is a stark reminder of my status. The low whispers and looks of sympathy stab deep into the recess of my heart.

But perhaps the nights are the worst when the house is still. The empty space on the bed stares at me questioningly, ‘what if you have been more forgiving?’

Yes, it would have been easier if I could have been more like Suzy. At least we would still be some kind of family and I needn’t waste my creative skills on creating excuses for an absent male. Perhaps having a husband who made only public appearances is better than not having a husband at all.

It was a good five years before I met Suzy again. Unlike me, she had moved to a better neighbourhood. She was still as immaculately dressed. However, I couldn't help noticing that the spark of life in her eyes was gone. Hard little lines around her mouth replaced her ready smiles. I felt that the Suzy I knew had vanished. She was a pale shadow of the person I knew. Apparently Suzy had succeeded in providing a normal home for her children. She had learned to swallow her pride, grit her teeth and smile through her husband’s infidelities and continue to play the role of the obedient wife but all at the cost of sacrificing her own happiness.

I, on the other hand, chose to live with the pain of being unable to give my children a normal home because I did not want to go through hard life. We acknowledged each other but didn’t have much to say. The silence spoke for us – we made different choices for different reasons but each choice was no less painful than the other.
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Cat: Can't help crying reading this story..