It was just yesterday that it all happened. It felt as if it had been at least a year by now. But no, yesterday was the day that Jeffery walked out, declaring that he’d never really loved her and that he hoped that she eventually found someone who did. It was not so much his leaving that was so hard – he’d barely been at home over the past several months, always claiming to have work, or the gym, or some important client he needed to wine and dine. No, it wasn’t his leaving, but those parting words. That was what hurt. And it hurt a lot.
So what did she do? The most childish of things. She went out and immediately headed for a bar to see if there was anybody there who could love her – if not for a lifetime, then just for a night – and since she went in looking to be picked up, it wasn’t long before a man – someone under other circumstances she wouldn’t have ever considered – was hooking his arm through hers and heading out to the nearest motel.
One would think that this hook-up, wasn’t that the word these days, would hold some sort of excitement. After all, wasn’t this what the chick flicks always had as part of their story line: jilted young woman goes out, picks up a man, has sex, and then discovers he is actually her star-crossed lover? But alas, this man, with his hairy back and tightie-whities and slightly over-extended belly made Jeffery look like Adonis, and Adonis he was not with his skinny arms and legs. So, there she was, almost smothered when Mr. Big Belly lay on top of her, and the whole thing lasted no more than fifteen minutes, counting pulling back the covers and slipping off the clothes. In short, it was awful.
So, here she was today, feeling not only rejected by Jeffery, but also discarded by the bar guy since once he was done – never mind her – he was up and out the door without so much as a backward glance. The truth was that she was glad he was gone and went immediately and dead bolted the door so she could climb in the shower for a good wash, but no amount of cheap motel soap could make her feel really clean. She knew it was psychological since she had insisted on a condom and there wasn’t an iota of his sperm anywhere near her vagina. Thank God for small favors.
But now she had to face the fact that she had been married to a man who had never loved her. Not just fallen out of love with her because he didn’t like the way she left her underwear on the floor in the bedroom or how she snorted when she laughed. This man – her husband – had NEVER loved her, not even she supposed on their wedding day when he’d been so drunk at the reception that he had grabbed her and called her Gloria instead of Michelle – her name. Why hadn’t she realized then that her new husband was not exactly enthralled with her? What in the hell else had she needed to snap out of her denial?
She thought back on their dating – only three months – and then the proposal, which now seemed so weak, and she winced. God damn it. She knew then and she just pretended to herself and to Jeffery that everything was hunky-dory. What kind of half-wit was she? He had barely looked at her when he proposed, for God’s sake. He was staring half at the television – an episode of 48 Hours – when he said during the commercial, “Hey, what would you think of marrying me?” During the commercial! What other indicator had she needed? But no, her biological clock was supposedly ticking – that was before she found out she didn’t even have a clock since she was sterile – so she pretended he was just too shy to make an occasion out of asking to spend the rest of his life with her and she said a quick, “Sure.”
GOD DAMN IT! Now she could see all of that for what it was. Just crap, pure and simple. A delusion that she might have a normal life with a loving husband like everybody dreamed of, but almost nobody ever had. And here she was 34, dumped, and now also recently screwed – literally and figuratively – by some bozo in a bar who had looked like a tow truck driver. SHIT.
No wonder it felt like a year since she’d last seen Jeffery. Couldn’t he have just lied about loving her? Would that have killed him? Couldn’t he have just omitted that bit of information and gone on with his life and his obvious new relationship and let her go away blissfully ignorant? But no, he had to twist the knife as he slid it in. That way if she ever had the crazy idea that how she’d been living for the past few years wasn’t completely screwed up, she could go back to the day Jeffery left and replay his last words: I never loved you.
“Well, fuck him,” she said out loud. “Fuck him royally in the ass with a pitchfork.” She hadn’t ever really loved him either, had she? Hadn’t that been part of her self-deception? Hadn’t she just told herself she loved him because he’d said he loved her? She thought back to those months while they were dating. She had thought he was slightly attractive even with his too-thin appendages, and she had appreciated his good sense of humor. They had laughed a lot, at least in the beginning. And she’d thought that he was a decent and kind person. Well, until yesterday. But had she loved him? She sat down, closed her eyes, and thought hard. Yes, the truth was that she had thought she loved him.
She had thought it right up until yesterday when he informed her that what she thought was mutual was not and never had been.
And yet, she saw his eyes fill up with tears as he walked out. What was that? Sorrow? Or maybe relief? He’d finally had the courage to tell the truth.
She lay down on the couch and clicked on the television. A re-run of 48 Hours was on.
“How fucking fitting,” she said, then settled down to watch. She might as well start over now. Maybe she could pretend the last four years never even happened. At least for today.
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