Yesterday, I met the ex mother-in-law after work for a quick run through the rain-soaked farmer’s market. While I’m always tempted by the desserts (homemade pie, hello), I stuck to the fruits and veggies since I’ve been living on cigarettes, tears, bourbon, and coffee for the past week or so. She offered to treat me to dinner as well, but with the dreary weather, I just wanted to be home. Besides, I’m having a little anxiety about being too connected with her. The ex may be a dog, but its scary how much on my side his family has been. I would hope that even if I pulled a completely bozo-rific move, my family would stick by me and give me speeches about how it was good that I realized it now. Not bad mouth me to my ex…. ouch.
When I pulled up to the house and pulled open the screen door, there was a post-it. A little square post-it that said “I love you.” I scooped it up, sighed, and opened the door. And there was another one- on the mantle, on the doorway arch, on the coat closet, five in a row down the wall. The living room had one on each framed picture, on the tv, the laptop, four on the coffee table, six more on the walls. The refrigerator and cabinets and back door, too. The bathroom mirror and shower rod. Each step up the stairs and all the walls on the way. The bedroom door. And on the pillow. That one read “I love you with all my heart and I always will.” Hundreds of “I love you”s.
And then he didn’t come home.
And I stayed up all night with a pack of smokes in the chair by the bedroom window.