“It’s ok if you turn in your résumé.” She said it so softly she wasn’t sure she said it out loud. She sat back in her car aware suddenly of the sheer number of vehicles exiting the interstate.
He had asked if he could speak to her. Her heart retreated. He had asked if he could speak away from the kids. Her knees locked. All she could do was about-face. That’s all the privacy she could muster. They turned to each other from opposite sides of the parking space. Then she raised her head and looked at him. For the first time in years, she faced him and she looked at him.
Words started coming out of his mouth. Then she heard him say he’s thinking about moving. Her mind muttered Miami. She readied for a fight. He said Atlanta. She passed out. She was still standing and conscious, but inside, inside she passed out. Résumé. Atlanta. Senior level. 3 miles from your house. End of the school year.
He said other things; other sentences made it through the thick fog engulfing everything. Rolling in thicker with each phrase. Each statement. I wanted us to talk about it, but I guess I’ve done most of the talking. … My dad dying, that changed things, my perspective. … The kids need to spend more time with you. … We have to stop fighting, both of us. … The divorce, things went bad with the lawyers involved, things happened that shouldn’t have. …
Think about it, he said, and let me know if you would be able to be comfortable with it if I moved to Atlanta.
Think about it I did not. I stopped at the first exit and bought a pack of smokes. I drove 3 hours and refused to think about it. I listened to disk 11 and most of 12 of J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. I made it home, walked inside, and looked at my computer. I thought about it. I didn’t open my computer.
Sleep, I thought, sleep it clear. I changed out of my jeans and t-shirt, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed. I escaped into a happy fantasy.
Someone has recently expressed an interest in spending time with me. I told him he probably just had a stroke and might have better luck seeing a doctor, but in the quiet of my calming thoughts I’ve imagine 1000 ways he might kiss me. Smiling, verging on sleep, my phone suddenly celebrated from the living room: woo haha, text message! At 10pm. Then it went off again, woo haha. And again, woo haha. And again, woo haha. And again, woo haha, text message! I was no longer smiling, verging on a kiss. 5 text messages at 10 at night. My phone was mocking me. No one texts me at 10 at night. Well, one person does, but not with a message so long it spills over like ignored milk coming to a boil.
It was Donkey.
We are home and Kidz are in bed sleeping. I was wondering how you felt about what we discussed. I saw, what looked to me to be, a range of emotions and wanted to know if you still felt comfortable. I know it is last minute but this developed midweek and I wanted to have things straight in my head. If you would like to sleep on it I understand. If it is just too soon or too close for you I can understand that as well. It will mean us interacting more frequently which could be bad thing. I’m not expecting it will be easy for either of us because there are still a lot of emotions and wounds that probably haven’t healed.
Words retreated. I could formulate nothing. This morning I could formulate asshole. This morning I could formulate fuck you. Last night I formulated I would enjoy having more time with the kids & it would make visits easier. Time will take care of the rest. I went back to bed.
And because one bomb isn’t enough: woo haha, woo haha, text message!
There are also some legal things that were executed on that I can’t stop at this point e.g. back child support / tax stuff. The reason I bring this up is because it is going to come up sooner or later. And I don’t want you think it was something done after we discussed this.
I answered only ok. I plopped back into bed and returned to my imaginary kiss.