The Fifth Wife Absolutely Hates Harems

One would think that after many cultures around the world ended polygamous/harem relationships from the early 1800s and onwards women would never again partake in such an unfair dynamic. Only to be surprised that in modern-day society so many women are willingly participating in variations of harem-like relationships.

Whether it be the husband cheating on his wife with a mistress, and the wife and mistress know about each other, however, the wife chooses to stay. Or women fighting for the girlfriend status of a popular guy.

As the women in these situations fight over the man they cause themselves a lot of anguish as their jealousy consumes them. Why would you put yourself through all that when you can simply leave? If you're not someone's first choice why stay? I could understand why women back then endured it they had no choice after all but in this case, the women can just leave.....

The answer seems fairly obvious so why would someone stay? Was there something I couldn't understand? Something I was missing? If I could, I would like to ask my mother why? Why did she try so hard to gain the affection of a man who clearly didn't love her when he had so many other women?

What's more instead of hating the man that caused her all her pain, why did she blame me? Why was all her hatred directed toward me?

I would ask her if I could but it's a shame I couldn't now that she was dead. Not that she would have ever told me since we didn't have a close relationship when she was alive. All she ever did was overload her liver with alcohol at the old apartment I lived with her in. Up until it couldn't take anymore and failed, resulting in her death.

Now I was doing the same in this club. I was seated in a booth all by myself chugging bottle after bottle. I could barely see with all the bright ever-changing colors of the lights. The loud music being played and the horde of people on the dance floor had taken over my ears. I thought if I drank away I would forget about my mother but it only made me think about her more.

I had a difficult childhood growing up. For as long as I can remember I've always taken care of myself, my mother often neglecting me. She was my only parent. I didn't know who my father was nor did she ever formally introduce me to him although I knew he was alive.

She often ignored me and acted like I didn't exist. She only spoke to me a handful of times only when she had to and most of the time it was to tell me not to do something. Our arrangement was basically that she fed, clothed me, and sent me to school. For a time that is. We lived in a small apartment in the city. She worked as a cashier at a local convenience store.

In the beginning, she would go to work and then at night she dressed herself up in fancy clothing and would go out again coming back early in the morning. Where to? I didn't know. All I know is that that's when she was happiest.

There was one day when she came home in the evening after work and told me whilst I was doing my homework on the dining room table. "After you're done eating you little brat, go to your room and don't come out. If you do I'll kill you." She threatened me. "You understand?"

"Yes, Mum," I responded in fear.

Later that evening I heard my mother get ready for the night like she usually did. The apartment was fairly small so one could easily hear what was happening in other parts of it. I switched off my light and pretended to sleep in my bed. It was after a short while that the doorbell rang, my mother excitedly answered "Coming!" In a sweet tone of voice, one she'd never used when talking to me. I was surprised that she could even be like this.

When she opened the door I heard a male voice greet her. My eyes widened in curiosity. Who was he? I slowly got up from my bed and went towards my bedroom door. I slowly opened it enough for me to peek outside. From my room to the living room where they were talking from there was a short hallway, one had to cross, so I could only see part of the living room.

"....Is she here?" He asked her. I heard part of their conversation.

"Yeah, but she's asleep so don't worry about her." She said.

Were they talking about me? I wondered as I continued to eavesdrop but then my mother very quickly changed the subject and talked about something else.

I continued to peek waiting. The two moved to cross to the kitchen I caught a glimpse of the man. Even though it was just for a moment and I didn't see much of him. Tall, dark brown hair, orange eyes just like.... me.

They talked for a little while longer before they finally left the apartment. My heart was pounding in my chest as I turned to lie against my door. I wasn't sure but that night I thought I'd just seen my father.

Her evening 'outings' continued for a couple of years until suddenly she began to change. She seemed grumpier than usual. She yelled at me more often. She just always seemed to be in a bad mood. Sometimes she would miss work and stay at home.

Then one night she suddenly broke down. "Why? Why doesn't he love me? Why won't he choose me?!" She screamed out one night. "What does she have that I don't?"

I was sleeping in my room at the time and was woken up by her screaming. I got up from my bed and went towards the living room. "Mum, what's wrong?" I asked as I walked towards her. There were several bottles of beer all over the table and the whole room just reeked of alcohol.

When my mother heard my voice she raised herself from her sunken position. She was sitting on the carpet floor lying face down crying. When she made eye contact with me, her expression suddenly changed to one of sheer rage.

"It's all because of you." She suddenly yelled out. "It's all your fault! If only you didn't exist." She shouted as she lunged towards me and started to hit me with her hands.

"Mum stop!" I cried out. But she only continued to hit me. It was only when a neighbor came to complain about the noise that she finally stopped. I was completely mortified by the whole ordeal.

After that day my mother stopped talking to me, and all the while slowly went insane. She became addicted to alcohol, lost her job and just stayed at home. Which put me in a precarious position as I didn't have someone to provide for me. I managed to get scholarships and bursaries with my good grades and that's how I managed to stay in school without her support.

However, when it came to other necessities such as food, bills, and rent I had to find a solution myself. As I was a teenager at the time I got multiple part-time jobs which I would take on after I was done with school. It was extremely stressful balancing and managing all that at once but I had no choice.

My mother soon became a topic of gossip among our neighbors. Whenever they saw me come back from school they would silently whisper. 'That poor girl with a negligent mother.' 'She thought she was going to get whisked away by that rich man only to be dumped.' When I would catch them gossiping they would look away, embarrassed.

It was from all their gossiping that I found out the truth about my mother's relationship with my father. Apparently, my father was a wealthy man who was already married with a family but he was having multiple affairs. My mother was just one of many women, she was madly in love with my father and she got pregnant with me. Their relationship continued for a couple of years but then he finally lost interest and abandoned her.

When I turned 18 I failed to get a scholarship for university so I couldn't decided not to go and on top of that who would take care of my mother if I left? I continued to work many part-time jobs.

My mother had become a full-blown alcoholic at this point what's more she was using the money I earned to buy the alcohol. I couldn't stop her because if I did she would yell and hit me.

Despite everything that had happened tell me why...why didn't hate my mother? She told me she hated me and wished I was never born, all those hurtful things but I still loved her. Am I a masochist? Was something wrong with me? I pondered as I continued to drink away. The funeral that had been held for my mother was still fresh in my mind. I suddenly found it hard to swallow as tears that I had been holding back found their way to the corner of my eyes.

"Hey, may I join you?" I heard a deep voice suddenly ask me. I looked up to see a smiling well-dressed young man look down at me from where he stood.