She Divorced Me, Not The Other Way Around

The day had almost come to an end, and Bridges was at the door of his house. He turned the doorknob, and the door opened easily, since it wasn't locked. Bridges was not a forgetful person, so he wondered why the door was unlocked.

However, he reasoned that whoever might be inside the house must have a key, so he did not panic.

He entered his house and recognized the first voice he heard. It was his mother. He took off his shoes and placed them by the front door. He walked fully inside his luxurious yet small and comfortable house.

There, he saw his mother, who was bending over to pick up a book from the floor. “Hey, Mother,” Bridges said. “Good evening. What are you doing here?” Bridges asked, not sounding happy to see her, but not angry either.

He wasn't surprised that she was in his house. She often showed up without telling him first.

He walked past her and went into his room. He dropped his bag, changed his clothes, and his mother ignored him. He knew that when she showed up at his house unannounced, she had something serious to talk about.

He had taken a shower and changed his clothes, putting on a comfortable tracksuit. His hair was disheveled now, unlike the straightened style it had been before.

He went down the stairs looking like someone who had just come out of the shower room.

He went into the kitchen and saw his mother there. She seemed to be preparing dinner, he guessed. He said nothing. He walked over to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of water, and went into the living room and turned on the news.

His mother then followed him into the living room.

Seeing that he had turned on the television to watch the news. She snorted in a sarcastic way. “Aren't you tired of watching yourself in the news?” she asked, “Are you a narcissist or something?” She scoffed.

She sounded annoyed, like she was mocking him.

Bridges took a deep breath and exhaled wearily at his side. It had been a stressful day, and his mother was just adding to his stress.

Ignoring his mother's comment, he said, “Hey, Mother, what's up?”

Seeing as his mother wouldn't reply to him, he decided to take another approach. “Mother, how is William?” He asked.

Though he wasn't curious about William, he knew in his mother's care William had no issue but he just needed to get his mother to speak at the moment.

“William is doing fine, under my umbrella, yes. But he needs more than me, you know,” his mother replied, raising her voice.

Bridges took note of his mother's raised voice and rolled his eyes. He could tell she was trying to provoke him, but he was determined not to let her.

“I'm trying to be a good father to William,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I just want what's best for him.”

His mother narrowed her eyes and said, “I know you think you're doing the right thing, but William needs more than just financial support. He needs a father who's there for him emotionally too.”

Bridges felt a pang of guilt. Despite feeling guilty, Bridges couldn't accept that he might be in the wrong. “I am a lawyer,” he said to his mother. “I am not just any lawyer. I am a famous lawyer in all of Swansea. I need to serve the city and the people.”

He was trying to get his mother to understand, but she only became more upset.

“You say you serve the people, you serve the city,” she said. “You say you are a lawyer. But what about your son? Between your job and your son, who is more important? If you can't give the kid your attention then get him a mother!” She yelled.

She turned and stormed off into the kitchen.

As the meaning of his mother's words sunk in, Bridges felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew he should have handled the situation differently.

Annoyed, he stood up. It dawned on him what his mother had said about giving his son a mother. In annoyance, he called after her, “Did you just suggest that I get another woman?”

A little boy came down the stairs, and walked into the living room. He shook his head. He had overheard his father and his grandmother arguing. The boy was William, with lovely mink-brown eyes just like his father and a bowl cut hairstyle in a blonde color.

Williams sat down in the same spot where his father, Bridges, had been sitting. He reached for the remote control, turned on the television, and flipped to the next channel.

He wasn't so surprised, his father's image was on the screen. It was a news report about a court case, and the newscaster was saying how excellent his father was at his job.

But William couldn't help but sigh. He had a father who was successful, but he wasn't close to him.

He turned to listen to his father and grandmother's argument in the kitchen, he heard something.

Taking the wooden spoon from his mother to get her attention, Bridges spoke. “Mom, how could you say such a thing? How could you suggest bringing another woman into my life?”

His mother looked at him disdainfully, her expression hard and cold. “And what's wrong with that?” she asked, though not expecting an answer.

Bridges spoke with a tone of frustration, as if he was tired of his mother constantly bringing up the same topic. “Mom, my life with William isn't about bringing another woman into it,” he said. “It's about respecting me as an individual and allowing me to make my own choices.”

His mother's expression was still cold, but she seemed to be listening more intently now.

She then said, “Why can't you just be more like your father?”

Bridges rolled his eyes and said, “I am like my father. I am a perfectionist like him. I take my work seriously, just like he does.” Bridges's voice was challenging.

His mother called his full name, “Will Bridges!” she yelled.

And in return, Bridges yelled, “Flora Agatha Bridges!”

The tension in the kitchen was palpable.

Bridges didn't give his mother a chance to speak. “Mom, we're not in Barnes, we're not in West Yorkshire. We are in Wales. No one knows me as Will here. If you want to call me something, call me ‘R. Bridges’. And the letter R represents Rowe. It's who I am now,” he said in a cautioning tone.

Bridges' mother scoffed at his response. “There's no such thing as an "R" in your name,” she said. “Your father's name was "Rowe," and that's not your name. Don't try to borrow my late husband's name.”

Bridges also scoffed, but he didn't say anything. He put his hands on his waist and looked everywhere except at his mother's face.

Then, she continued, “It's not just about being perfect in your work, you know? You need to hold your family together too.”

Bridges wasn't ready to concede the argument. “I am holding this family together,” he said. “You and I are here, and William is here too.”

His mother scoffed. She grabbed the spoon from him forcefully and hit him on the arm with it. He feigned pain. “Oww!”

Bridges looked at his mother in disbelief. “What did you do that for?” he asked.

She didn't answer him, just scowled. She started to speak again. “Your father wasn't just a perfectionist in his work,” she said. “He could handle his job, and he could keep his wife, unlike you, who can't keep a wife. You divorced your wife.” She said this mockingly, but meant every word.

Bridges scoffed. “She divorced me, not the other way around.” He folded his hands on his chest and tried to prove his point to his mother.

But his mother wouldn't accept it. “Yes, she divorced you because you couldn't hold her down,”