where Jack happened to be the teacher. Ten years older than I with an established stage career, he was magnificent. Handsome, charismatic, self-assured, he swaggered about the stage impressing the hell out of us students. I was totally besotted, and I couldn’t believe my luck when Jack started flirting with me. To this day, I never knew what attracted him. We got together after the course ended and, well, sparks flew, the earth shook, and all of those other clichés. I was deliriously happy; not only did this gorgeous man love me, but he introduced me to important directors and actors that I had previously only admired from the audience.
We married less than six months after we started dating, me in a tea-length white dress with flowers in my hair and Jack in a suit without a tie. My parents warned me against marrying so quickly and to a man with such an unstable career, but I dismissed their concerns as petty. After all, my father had never approved of my frivolous acting ambitions and my mother didn’t even have a job, so what did they know about life? I was going to follow my dreams.
The first year of married life was bliss. Jack and I both got acting jobs, and we’d meet up at a bar or a restaurant after the show and stay out all night with our friends. I adored my husband, I felt privileged to be working as an actress, and I had the freedom to do whatever I pleased. My spirits were flying, but I fell back to earth the second year when I discovered that Jack was cheating on me. When I confronted him about the affair, Jack actually got down on his knees, tears streaming down his face, and swore that it would never happen again. I was devastated, but I had seen for myself that women were attracted to Jack like bees to pollen. He was a passionate man exposed to a lot of temptation, and he had made a big mistake. Was I going to break up our marriage over a single mistake? I admit I went crazy for about a month after I found out, but we eventually patched things up and got on with it, albeit a little less joyfully than before.
When Ben came along, however, it became apparent that we couldn’t sustain our carefree lifestyle. Someone was going to have to provide stability for our child, and it made sense that that somebody should be me, at least until I could restart my acting career. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
For the first fifteen years of his life, Ben and I followed Jack across the country while he pursued acting opportunities and I tried to make a string of apartments feel like home to our small family. Unfortunately, Jack also had access to a steady stream of pretty young actresses. After a series of humiliations, I finally realized that my husband’s cheating wasn’t going to stop. I had a choice to make, and I decided that a bruised ego was of little consequence compared to the hardship and disgrace of raising my son on welfare. So, I decided to ignore Jack’s dalliances as long as he didn’t rub my nose in them. Fortunately my husband was a consummate liar, and his stories didn’t become insultingly transparent until the latter part of our marriage.
Well, that segment of my life was over and done with, and I had done pretty well for myself since leaving Jack. Now my new, precious little life was threatened, and I felt both frightened and angry. It just wasn’t fair. How could a dead ex-husband jeopardize everything? I felt powerless to do anything to help myself. The real world wasn’t anything like it was in Agatha Christie’s books where Miss Marple could solve murders simply by observing human nature or Poirot by using his little grey cells. I fumed about it as I parked my car and stomped into the university.
My work day began with a two-hour computer training session, the result of a recent software upgrade, and I wasn’t back at my desk until 11:00. I was just going through my e-mail when I heard Magdalena’s door open across the hallway and a familiar voice said, “Thank you for
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