My 23rd anniversary was 2/15/15. We celebrated the 13th, and he left on a business trip with some colleagues on the 14th, one of which he had worked with before at a different place, and we have known for eight or so years. Maybe longer. My daughter baby sat her kids. My daughter also attended a summer theater camp that her husband ran.
There was a whopper of a snowstorm on the 14th and they had to keep making alternate arrangements to get to their destination. I got the details text by text. That is something I would HATE. Better them than me, I said. He said they were “just trying to laugh a lot.” One night, I can’t remember which, the texts stopped.
Sometime between 2/14 and 2/19 they declared their love for each other. I picked them up at the airport. He teased her about something gooey she ate on their layover and she cocked her head and smiled like a middle school girl. I had the sense she wanted to sit in the front seat on the way to pick up her car. I got there first without having to actually call shotgun. Why did I feel that that might be necessary?
Let’s say the betrayal was on 2/16. He told me on 3/16 – that’s 28 days later. I guess she had had a bout of cold feet, but came to her senses. My birthday was during that timeframe. Phone records show he called her four times on my birthday for a total of just about three hours. Are you cringing yet?
It has been 162 days now. On Sunday night, the 160th day, she wormed her way into my dreams. I’m surprised it took that long. I asked her how her husband liked sharing his kids with my husband. Divorce and dreams are weird. I could tell her to get out of my dreams, but not to get into my heart. Even though there’s plenty of room in there now, she needs to stay the hell away from it and all the other hearts close to mine. And from my dreams, too.
I banish thee. I banish thee. I banish thee.