This is it.
This is the end of my roommate days and my marriage.
All I want to do is cry.
FORTY-TWO
Lucy
As I walk through the neighborhood with Alexander, I do my best to appreciate what my dad found for me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to be taken care of.
It’s been three weeks since I moved out of Miles’ house. And it’s as though my entire world changed but I’ve been watching someone else live my life.
My dad paid off the student loan and paid the first six months’ rent on a cute townhouse for me. He did the same for Willa and says that he’s busy trying to repair their relationship.
I’m not so gullible to think that this will last, but I can enjoy his involvement for now. And the fact that I don’t have the student loan looming over my head.
I should be spending this time being happy that my dad is trying to repair things with us. At least he cares enough to try.
Instead, Alexander and I are depressed.
It’s like that spark of life has been snapped out of us. The same spark that was ever-present when we lived with Miles.
I love the man. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Because I think I’m too scared to say the truth.
The simple truth is that I need him in order to keep breathing. He brought something into my life I didn’t know I could feel—belonging.
I’m going to be a ninety-year-old woman, telling my caregivers all about my lost love that never knew I even cared.
I trudge back to the townhouse and walk inside with Alexander. He waits on the front rug while I use the towel hanging on the coat hook to dry his big paws. The misty rain kept the ground soaked outside, and I don’t want the dirt tracked inside. When I stand up, Alexander trots toward the living room, and I hang my keys on one of the coat hooks.
Alexander’s waiting for me on the couch. Another Saturday of watchingI Love Lucy.
First, I throw the loaves of bread in the oven that I made this morning. They rose while we were on our walk, and now I’ll have some delicious bread to drown my sorrows in.
Two episodes later, my phone rings loudly, stirring me out of my reverie.
Miles is calling. His caller ID still saysBest Husband Ever.
And isn’t that the truth?
I debate about not answering…but it’s a short-lived debate. I want to hear his voice and at least know how he’s doing.
“Hi!” I try to interject the right amount of cheerfulness in my tone, but it comes across as a high-pitched squeak.
The strong smell of bread is floating through the house now, and I walk into the kitchen to turn the oven off.
“I realized that when we separated, we didn’t talk about my visitation rights.”
His words take me by surprise.Separatedis a strong term for simply moving out. And visitation rights?
He continues, “Yes, Alexander. He’s got to be missing me, and I think I need to see him, so he knows I still love him.”
“Hehasbeen pretty sad,” I say.
I wait for him to respond. I don’t know where he’s going with this. I would love it if this were an excuse to see me. But knowing Miles, he probably is just missing Alexander.
I peek on the bread and see that it needs a little more time.
