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Save Some for Me: Inspiration for Single Mothers and the People who Love Them
by Susan A. Jennings
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 That Fateful Day-November 1977: The Day My Marriage Ended
It was five o'clock and Rodney arrived home from work early that day. The children were in the family room watching TV and I was in the kitchen preparing supper. Rodney suggested he pour me a gin and tonic. "No thanks," I said thinking this was unusual. It was Tuesday and I don't drink mid-week as a rule. Rodney insisted, "I'll make it a double; you are going to need it."
I was not a big drinker, but Rodney was and like most drunks, he likes company when he drank. So I naively thought we were in for another session with the booze. But something was different. His attitude was kind and gentle and he seemed quite nervous. I didn't hear his usual sarcastic or abusive tone, which warned me that I was in for a rough time. There was something about the way he asked me to sit down, and the concern in his voice that told me this was serious. Anxiety gripped my insides. Something was very wrong. I accepted the gin and tonic, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and braced myself.
I was not prepared for what happened next and thought it must be happening to someone else. I have never had an out of body experience, but that is how I felt. This couldn’t be happening to me. Rodney’s words seemed hollow and far away. “I’m leaving you. I have found someone else,” he said. Then the words that followed hurt the most. “I can’t stand the kids, this house or Berry Hill Hamlet.” That was it!
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