Cheating to Survive (Fix It or Get Out) by Christine Ardigo Page B

not sure what to do. I’m not happy anymore though, that much I do know.”
    “You were never happy.”
    “True.” Heather inhaled a few deep breaths and then shook her head. “You know, we’re expected to make decisions on who we’ll marry before we even know ourselves. All this pressure to find a man and have a family. It’s a job, a responsibility on top of all the other responsibilities we have as women.”
    Victoria nodded. “My mother told me you were expected to please your husband and make everything perfect. If you divorced, it was always the woman’s fault. She used to iron my father’s boxer shorts, can you believe that?”
    “Yup.” Heather giggled. “No matter how much you did, it’s still your fault.”
    “I’m sure pressed boxer shorts were on the top of his list.” Victoria chuckled.
    “I mean you chose to listen to punk rock music when you’re eighteen, but when you get older you find yourself listening to jazz and that’s okay. Your taste changed, they say.
    And at eighteen you have to decide what you want to do with your life. At eighteen. So you decide, go off to college, get a job and then fifteen years later you realize this wasn’t what you expected and you go back to school or get a new career and that’s okay, too. You’ve grown and matured and you are commended for your bravery and for following your dreams.
    But when you choose your spouse at eighteen, you’re expected to stay with him until you die. Who made up this rule? At eighteen you make a decision and if you divorce you’re going to hell?”
    “Both of us went to our proms with our husbands,” Victoria said.
    “That’s what I mean. We were so young, Victoria, what the hell did we know?”
    “Did I ever tell you why I chose Ed? I mean, to be my husband?”
    Heather leaned back again and brushed the hair out of her face with both hands. “No, do tell.”
    “We dated for three months and he asked me to the prom. I was thrilled. He was my first real boyfriend. I took my work money and bought this gorgeous pink fluffy gown. It was hot pink though. Other girls bought pastel colored gowns, but mine was extraordinary. Expensive, but I had to have it.
    My three girlfriends arrived at my house for pictures and we waited for our dates. Ed was last to show and as each of their boyfriends entered, they gave my friends their corsages. Two were white carnations, plain, unimaginative. The third a pale pink carnation with these giant green balls and leaves, some weird fillers.”
    Heather laughed at Victoria’s contorted facial expression.
    “Ed finally arrives and he presents me with this beautiful white box with a gold lace design. Now he missed how the other three just shoved the corsages at their dates leaving them to open their own boxes and attempt to pin the corsage on themselves. Ed’s clueless. So, just as my poor father wrestles himself up from the couch and makes his way into the foyer, Ed kneels down in front of me and opens the box.”
    “No, he didn’t. Did you think he was proposing or something?”
    “No, but my father did. Nearly had a heart attack on top of all his other medical problems. Anyway, he takes the corsage out and it’s stunning. Giant hot pink Gerber daisies, two of them, surrounded by tiny pale pink roses and white stephanotis, my favorite flower. He gently pins it to my dress.”
    “Wow, I can’t imagine that.”
    “Then he tells us how he insisted that the florist make this corsage and the florist argued with him that no one does this. They all get carnations. Ed had to call the manager and they finally agreed to make it. He said he wanted something special for the most beautiful woman in the world.” Victoria closed her eyes and pressed them tight.
    Heather grasped Victoria’s hand, gave a light squeeze and refused to let go. Victoria’s eyes welled up when she released her lids.
    “A few months later, right before my father died, he asked if I was going to marry Ed one day. I