After My Husband Insisted on Being a Do-Gooder, I Got Divorced

1: 1

My husband was the famous Good Samaritan for miles around.

Every month he spent his own money buying rice and oil for lonely old folks and fixing appliances for his poor widowed sister-in-law.

And me, I carried the whole household on my own.

The enormous mortgage, my mother-in-law's medical bills every month we came up short, and on top of that I had to swallow my pride and borrow money from my own family.

I worked days and nights until I collapsed and landed in the hospital. I begged him, just this month, could he set the charity aside and take care of the mortgage and the medical bills first.

But he flung my hand off, hard.

"How can you have so little heart? A country girl really is just a country girl.

Oh, rightyour sister-in-law is treating me to dinner tonight, so I won't be home. Get some sleep early."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone, staring blankly at the IV line in my hand.

A long while later, a nurse came in with a slip.

"Your family just sent this over from the post office."

I took it and looked

Transfer amount: 5,000 dollars.

"Your sister-in-law's kid is sick. I saw there was still some money on this card, so I used it for now."

That was the money I'd just borrowed from my parents. My mother-in-law's lifesaving money.

This time I didn't cry, didn't make a scene. I calmly pulled the needle out of my arm, went home, sold everything in the house worth selling, and made a phone call.

"That project down southI'll take it."

Since he found me so heartless, then I'd just leave. I wanted to see, too, how this great Good Samaritan would rescue this whole family's disaster.

"Irma Vance, why did you overspend by twelve dollars and eighty-six cents again this month? The plant isn't doing well, everyone's saying there'll be layoffs."

"And put one egg in the noodles, that's enough. There's famine everywhere these days. That extra egg you drop in could be a whole day's food for some child."

"We need to be a little more frugal. Do you have any idea how many people out there live harder than we do?"

Zane Delgado's scolding voice carried out into the yard, and quite a few villagers started clapping and chiming in.

"I always knew Zane was the pride of our village. That selfless heart of his is something we should all learn from."

"Now that's a college man, an educated man. He really does us proud."

I quietly set down my chopsticks. This was the tenth fight over money this month.

Zane could see the hungry people out there and worry for them, but he never once saw the enormous mortgage in our own home, my mother-in-law's medical bills every month we came up short, and on top of it I had to swallow my pride and borrow from my family.

None of that he could see. All he saw was me being greedy, me lacking the spirit of sacrifice.

I opened the account book. Line after line, packed tightnothing but the mortgage and my mother-in-law's medical bills. And still, all of it didn't add up to the loose change of Zane's selfless giving.

Every month his whole paycheck, down to the last cent, went out as donations. In this neighborhood, even a stray dog passing by had felt his kindness.

But behind it all, I was the one carrying every ounce of the weight.

Last month his widowed sister-in-law fell ill, and the money I'd set aside for the mortgage he emptied out to the last cent.

It wasn't that I never tried to stop him.

It was just that every time I opened my mouth, he had a thousand comebacks ready to throw at me.

"Money, money, money. Comrade Irma, when will you ever understand the spirit of sacrificing the small self for the greater good?"

Because my husband did his charity work, my spending each month was capped, down to the cent, down to how many cups of rice I could eat a day, every bit of it counted. The moment I went over even a little, he'd haul me out into the yard and dress me down in front of everyone come to gawk.

This time was no different.

Just because I added one extra egg, I became the enemy of the people, a hard-hearted, penny-pinching woman.

But today was my birthday. I'd scrimped for a whole year. Giving myself one extra eggwas that really so unforgivable?

I didn't understand, and Zane didn't need me to. He knew this village woman couldn't survive without him, could only do as he pleased. He was the sky, the pillar of the house.

And so, when he carried off the birthday noodles I'd taken only a single bite of, I just looked up once and said nothing more.

I knew. It had to be for the widowed sister-in-law's house.

Sure enough, the next second Zane said, without a shred of doubt:

"Melvin Martinez over at your sister-in-law's is growing, I'm taking these over to him. You wash these clothes and take a good, hard look at yourself!"

And with that, he turned and left.

Leaving a yard full of dozens of pieces of clothing behind. This was his newest good deedhauling water and washing clothes for people who couldn't manage on their own.

These days, every evening after work I'd come home, first cook for the whole household, then go tend to my mother-in-law, cleaning her, wiping her down. After running myself ragged all day, I'd come back and wash this mountain of clothes.

This sickening life had gone on for over a month, and yet I'd never complained. I'd done everything I could to go along with his charity, his good deeds.

Only this time, I looked at the empty table, and an exhaustion I couldn't put into words welled up inside me.

Never mind. It was just a bite of food.

I really didn't want it that badly.

I let out a bitter laugh and reached for the paddle to beat the clothes. The next second, everything went black.

The paddle slipped from my hand, my body swayed, and I toppled off the stool, crashing hard into the washtub and knocking it over.

The washwater and the mud of the ground turned meme, who never let a speck of dust touch meinto something as pitiful as a stray dog.

But none of that mattered anymore. Just before I passed out, I heard the neighborhood women chatting as they wandered past.

"That Delgado boy really is so good-hearted. His widowed sister-in-law's got her monthly cramps, so he went and butchered a chicken to stew her some soup. Said the women in the neighborhood could all go get a bowl too."

Chicken soup it had been so long since I'd had any

2: 2

But no one cared what I thought.

So I just lay there in the yard on the ground floor, until the cold morning dew soaked through and froze me awake. I got up unsteadily, and before I could even wash my face, my husband came storming in from outside.

"I told you to wash the clothes, not roll them through the pigpen! Look at you, clumsy and useless, you've gotten everyone's clothes dirty!"

He was about to say more, but the sight of me in such a sorry state softened him.

"Ah, forget it, forget it. There's no work at the site today anyway, I'll handle these chores. Go lie down and get some rest."

And with that, ignoring the mud all over me, he coaxed me gently back into the house.

That kind of patience, that kind of tenderness, left me a little dazed.

Zane and I met during that earthquake in the Ozarks. The aftershocks kept coming, and the rescue grew harder by the hour.

Not to mention that my whole body was pinned under a slab of mud and debris. Most people had given up on me, because the time it would take to save one person like me was enough to save ten others.

But there was one young man. He was crying, shouting, digging alone with a single shovel.

One hour, two hours, three... until his arms trembled so badly he couldn't even hold a pair of chopsticks to eat, and still he gritted his teeth and kept on.

In the end, he did it.

So I owe him my life. All these years, carrying this household on my own, I never once complained.

It's just that, in the quiet dead of night, I still find myself missing the Zane who cherished me like the apple of his eye.

Back then, he wouldn't dream of letting me wash clothes in the cold of autumn. Even in summer, if I stayed outside too long, it pained him.

I looked at Zane, who had just finished wiping my face and was now massaging my shoulders, and asked, a note of pleading in my voice,

"Zane, next month's donation money, could we set a little aside for the family? One more good deed or one less, nobody's keeping count anyway. It's mainly Mom's condition" it had worsened, and she needed surgery.

The moment I brought up keeping something for the family, Zane's face changed.

"Irma Vance! You, you, you, what am I supposed to do with you!"

"People out there call me the neighborhood Good Samaritan, so I have to live up to it! Cutting corners is out of the question."

"And another thing, can you stop using Mom's condition as an excuse? Mom said it herself, she's fine, and she told me to go ahead and do what I want with a clear conscience."

"She's her age and she still understands sacrificing herself for the greater good, so why can't you grasp such a simple thing!"

I let go of the hand I'd been holding. The warmth that had just risen in me was already gone.

I remembered how, to support his good deed of paving the roads in the neighborhood, I'd handed over every cent of my dowry, and how he'd cupped my hands with tears in his eyes.

"Having you is a blessing I earned over eight lifetimes!"

And how, in the dead of winter, when he didn't have enough money to give warm clothes and heating money to the old, the weak, the women, and the children, I pawned the gold bracelet my mother left me.

In those first few years of marriage, Zane praised me more than once. He said I was the best wife in the world.

But in recent years, after we bought the house, after my mother-in-law fell ill, after his older brother died of a serious illness, and with the pressure of my long years unable to conceive all piling up, I simply couldn't go along with him and support him in everything anymore.

And then I felt his attitude toward me turn far colder than before.

You could see it in how one extra dish on my birthday was enough for him to tear me apart.

Yet before all this, he'd worked at the site through an entire summer, got heatstroke more than once from the sun, just to give me a gold necklace on my birthday.

The image surfaced in my mind of him drenched in sweat, grinning like a fool as he held out that gold necklace and asked me, "Do you like it?" And then his mouth opening and closing now.

"Learn a thing or two from your late brother's widow. She's a lot more conscientious than you."

Every third sentence about the people, every fifth about the widow.

And beyond that, nothing but his disdain for me.

Zane, I'm so tired.

3: 3

It wasn't just the exhaustion in my mind. My body had nothing left to give either.

But to Zane, all of that was just laziness, proof that I lacked the right attitude.

After another spell of dizziness sent me home on sick leave, I found my mother-in-law had been brought back to the house. The widow and Melvin were there too.

I thought I was walking into another round of the whole family piling on me. Instead Zane pulled out a chair for me, a smile stretched across his face.

My mother-in-law, who was never easy to please, actually told my husband to serve me some food.

I felt myself floating a little, thinking they had finally seen everything I'd given.

Then the next second.

"Irma, it's been three years since our eldest passed. He treated all of you well while he lived. What your mother is saying is that Zane should take a second wife to carry on both family lines. It would settle things properly with your brother-in-law too."

The happiness froze at the corners of my mouth. I turned to my husband, hoping he would say something. All I got was silence.

Seeing me look at him, something uneasy flickered across Zane's face, but he quickly found an excuse for this absurd two-households arrangement.

"You know the Sheldon family, the richest family around. She's their child who got lost to them years ago. Because it's a second marriage, it's hard for her to find a husband. The Sheldons have promised that if I take her and Melvin in, they'll give another dowry. Then we'll have money for the charity work, and you won't have to work yourself so hard."

"Good Irma, good wife, your husband knows how sensible you are. Don't worry, even if she marries in, you'll still be the first wife. I love you most."

Zane came over and pulled me into his arms. It was the warm embrace I'd longed for, and yet inside I was ice cold.

I forced the corners of my mouth into some kind of curve, half crying, half smiling.

"Not marry her. Can't we just not?"

Zane's eyebrows shot up, contempt threading through his voice.

"If I don't, how do we pay for Mrs. Lewis's leg next month? What about the tuition for Mrs. Wong's kid? And Mother's medical bills. Irma, you're my wife. You should understand how hard my position is."

"And if you hadn't shamelessly thrown yourself at me back then, I was the one who was supposed to marry Cornelia Finch in the first place!"

"Don't look at me like that either. We've been husband and wife all this time, so here's the deal. If you can earn three hundred this month, I'll do it your way."

Three hundred? A month of grinding work, and at the very most I made a hundred and fifty. Three hundred was double that.

But what else could I do?

I truly couldn't accept this ridiculous idea of him marrying his widowed sister-in-law. Two people who love each other should belong only to each other, shouldn't they?

Three hundred was almost a fantasy, but I gritted my teeth and agreed anyway.

I knew it. Zane named that number precisely because he knew I couldn't reach it. But I wanted to try anyway.

I'd just think of it as one last effort, for whatever was left of us.

For the whole month after that, I worked myself to the bone. When others slept I was still at it. When others clocked out I was still going.

Finally, at the second payout, I brought in three hundred and fourteen.

Fourteen more than I'd hoped for!

I should have been happy. But right then, watching Zane hold Melvin and laugh with such open delight, all the excitement lodged in my throat with nowhere to go.

I lifted my head and wiped away the tears before they could fall, forced a smile, and was about to step forward and call out to my husband. One step, and the whole world spun.

Blood dripped from my nose, drop after drop hitting the floor, and I collapsed hard.

The last thing I knew was the widow's coaxing voice threading through my husband's doting one, the three of them a family, drifting further and further away.

4: 4

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital.

Dr. Whitney looked at me, and there was real pain in his face.

"Irma! Do you have any idea how many times you tried for a baby? Have you forgotten everything you went through to have one?"

"Why did you have to wear your body down to this? You'd only just conceived, and now the baby's gone!"

Gone? What was gone?

The doctor's mouth kept moving, but I couldn't hear a word of it.

My hand went to my stomach without thinking. The child I had begged for over so many years, gone, just like that?

Seeing how lost I was, he guessed I probably hadn't even known I was pregnant. He let out a heavy sigh and stepped out.

He'd barely left when my husband shoved the door open in a rush.

The second I saw him, the tears I'd held back for so long broke loose and wouldn't stop. Fragile as I was, I wanted to be held, but he swatted me away.

"Irma! You've really outdone yourself. So I couldn't take his wife to her prenatal checkups, you went and got yourself admitted first!"

"And in a nice maternity room, no less! Do you have any idea what one night in here costs?"

He was about to say more when I cut him off, disbelieving.

"What checkup? A prenatal checkup?"

Zane knew he'd let it slip, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face.

But then, like something had occurred to him, he lifted his chin, righteous again.

"It's exactly what you think. His wife is pregnant. It's mine. You know Blake was adopted. The Delgado family ought to have a bloodline of its own."

"She's kindhearted. She's willing to have a child so the Delgado line doesn't die out. We should be thanking her."

"Enough. Why do you look at me like that, like you want to kill me? That's not my fault your belly's never been good for anything, is it? I've carried plenty of pressure for your sake already."

"And besides, if you hadn't married in back then, I would have married"

I cut off his praise of her, staring straight into his eyes, one word at a time.

"Zane. I had a miscarriage. Our baby. It's gone."

Zane froze, then burst out laughing and patted my head.

"Irma, Irma, how old are you now? Still lying like a child. All right, enough. She's not feeling well, I'm going to go sit with her."

"I'll let the fake-illness thing slide. Hurry up and check yourself out. Woman to woman, you'll take better care of her anyway."

With that, he got up and left.

Leaving me alone, clenching the three hundred and fourteen dollars in my palm, over and over.

I don't know how long passed before a nurse knocked and handed me a slip.

"Your family just sent this over from the post office."

I took it and looked. It was a withdrawal of five thousand dollars.

Zane's own handwriting was on it too.

"Her kid's sick as well. Saw there was still some money in this account, figured I'd use it first."

That was the money I'd just borrowed from my parents' home. My mother-in-law's emergency money.

Before, I would have torn the whole house apart over it.

But this time, I was tired.

I didn't say much. I just calmly pulled out the IV needle, checked out, went home, and sold off everything in the house that could be sold. Then I called my brother, who had wanted to take me along with him more than once.

"Bro, that project down south. I'm in."

No hesitation. I took the money from everything I'd sold and got on a train heading south.

Zane went on as always, busy with his good works, busy doing good for the public, busy with her. By the time he thought of me, a week had gone by.

And of course, it wasn't that he thought of me on his own.

It was that my mother-in-law's condition took another turn for the worse. The hospital was ready to operate and found there was no money in the account, and the best window for treatment slipped away. Only then did he remember me, gone a week already.