Inked In Scars: My Ex-Husband's Regret

“This was the twenty-seventh time my husband had brought his mistress into my studio. His buddies were placing bets in the outer room, wagering on whether I would throw a jar of turpentine in their faces this time. I didn't. My brush came down steady and sure. Until that woman simpered and asked for the signature on a painting. "On what grounds?" I challenged her out loud for the first time. He flicked his cigarette ash and answered, offhand: "It's just a signature, isn't it?" It wasn't just a painting. It was ten years of relentless practice. I laughed. Ten years-and I had finally given up on him for good. "Then go ahead and sign the divorce papers while you're at it."”