One year ago today, my marriage ended.
I’d said, let’s go to the movies. And he’d said, no, let’s just go to lunch. That’s okay, I guess I said, or something like that, even though it wasn’t. Where do you want to go? Let’s go to Milestones. Okay.
So we drove to Burlington, because that’s where the Milestones is, and also the big bookstore that we could go to after lunch, instead of the movies.
Then Kevin pulls into a pub that I hate, not the Milestones. What about Milestones? No, I want to go here. Fuming, but I try to remain calm, things haven’t been great since he got home from Vancouver two weeks ago and this is a stupid thing to pick a fight over.
Inside, it is very loud. There isn’t a single thing I want to eat and I just sort of feel like crying, this isn’t what I had in mind at all.
Kevin isn’t saying anything unless I specifically ask a question that requires a multi-word response. A migraine begins creeping up through the base of my skull. The yellow vision appears as we sit there, not talking. Hey, we should get Awenda and Sandbanks booked Kev, who’s camping with us this year?
It’s taken care of. Oh, so what dates did you book? Don’t worry about it, I booked it. But when, I have to get the time off work. Can you relax, I did it okay? Kev, I just need to know so I can request the time off. It’s taken care of!
And then I am crying: Whatever, let’s go. Are you ready? Yes.
The drive home is silent. At home, I go to the bedroom with a book and my headache. Kevin goes to the computer and plays the stupid fucking MUD. The dog stays with me. My old cat puts aside his differences with the dog and also comes on the bed to look after me. If I didn’t know before that something bad was going down, I do now. Eventually, I get tired of crying, wash my face, and go to sleep.
Later, he wakes me up by shaking my ankle through the duvet. Do you have stuff here for dinner? I’m going somewhere. He told me where, but after a year, I’ve forgotten the destination. Yeah, I have stuff, sure. Les, what’s wrong with your face? I’m sad. Why? What do you mean why, we just went to lunch and you didn’t speak to me the whole time. Well, you can’t tell me you’re happy with the way things are. No, I’m not happy when my husband doesn’t talk to me. I just don’t think I love you the way I used to, I don’t think I want to have a family with you anymore.
Some credits rolled then, for a couple of weeks, but that was it: The End.