Jonah: I’m sorry.
Jonah: Clara?
Jonah: You blocked me didn’t you?
Jonah: Guess it fucking serves me right.
chapternine
An email,sent from Clara to Jonah, one year after the wedding
Jonah,
I know you don’t like to hear from me and I’m especially sure you don’t want to get an email from me on our one-year anniversary.
Happy anniversary, by the way.
As I was saying, I’m sure you don’t want to hear from me, but it has come to my attention that I need a way to reach you in case of an emergency.
You ignore my emails and apparently my texts as well. Or blocked me again.
Since that’s apparently a thing married couples do. Because why not?
Why not…
Why wouldn’t I have an estranged husband who lives a mere hour away, but who refuses to have any contact with me whatsoever?
Honestly, it’s what I always dreamed of as a child.
A husband who is so uncommunicative that talking to him is like screaming into the void. Except we don’t actually talk because we’ve only been in the same physical space once.
A husband who finds me so…I don’t know? What’s the word here? You tell me?
So repulsive? So annoying? So disgusting? What?
What is it about me that you hate so much you can’t even stand to read my texts? I don’t get it. I really don’t.
Which is fine. Everything is fine. FINE.
I don’t have to understand why you hate me so much. I mean, not everyone has to like everyone else. It just feels like you could have said something then. On that first day we met. Back in April.
If you knew then that you couldn’t stand to be married to me, why did you go through with it? And I know you knew then. I saw the expression on your face. I saw it happen. You took one look at me and shut down.
You could have backed out then. Just saying.
But I guess you felt like you couldn’t. Since we’d already signed the prenup. And you’re such “a great guy.”
That’s what everyone says about you. You’re such a great guy. Sissy tells me that all the time.
I haven’t gotten up the courage to tell her what a shit show our “marriage” is, because I know what she’s like. She’d just feel bad. So she thinks you moved down here to be with me. And that you work at the turtle station and then come back every night because you can’t stand to be away from me. Isn’t that ironic?
Don’t worry, I haven’t told her the truth. I haven’t said anything to her about you at all. She just made that all up. I guess based on something you said to her brother when you saw him over Christmas.
I don’t know what kind of lies you told or how you’re still walking around in one piece instead of twitching on the ground as a singed, lightning-struck corpse, but he’s under the impression that you’re in love with me. A mopey, lovesick fool because you had to leave my side for a week. Those were Sissy’s words.
Don’t worry. I know the truth. You probably just had food poisoning or something.
I hope you had the shits for a week.
