Page 34 of Love, Interrupted

I lift up my phone, open our text thread, and send a message to Brad.

I’ll make this really easy on you. You don’t have to want to put me first. Study for your test, we’re done here.

I don’t wait for a reply because I don’t want one. I block his number. Then I do the unthinkable. The thing that I thought I would never do. I open the app to his profile and hover over the friends button then I click it to say unfriend. It’s time to cut the cord. My mom always told me if you love something you have to set it free. Well, I’m setting him free. I just hope deep down, maybe one day he’ll come back to me. I press the button and just like that we’re no longer friends.

THE REBOUNDS

August 18, 2012

My realtor hands me the keys to my brand new house that I’ve just purchased all on my own. I’ve spent the last two years saving every penny I could to be able to purchase my own home. That included many nights saying no to going out with friends to dinners, limiting my spending, and pinching every penny. When I look over, my mom has tears in her eyes. She comes up and gives me a hug, congratulating me on being so responsible. I couldn’t have celebrated something so big without Erica and Meg who are standing off to the side together watching with huge smiles on their faces.

“Can you believe this? I feel like such a grown-up now,” I say to the group.

Meg laughs. “Wait till you get the tax bill. Then you’ll feel real grown up.”

I laugh at her joke. She would know, she’s got her own big house. She’s taking a few hours away from her husband and child just to watch me walk into my house for the first time as a homeowner. If I’m right, which I think I am, I even see hergetting a little teary-eyed. Erica will finally be moving back to town after two years of nagging. There’s a bedroom in my house with her name on it because she’ll more than likely be staying with me until she finds a place close to her job at the university working in the literature department.

As I walk into my house with my family and friends behind me, this day is far different than I ever thought it would be. I thought the first time I ever bought a home it would be with a boyfriend or spouse. I never expected to be doing it alone but that’s all right. I wanted to buy a home and I wasn’t going to wait around on my future dream man to do it. I can’t help the little bit of melancholy in wanting that memory, though. I try not to let my mind drift to Brad, but at monumental times like this, I do. I sometimes wonder what he’s doing or if he’s thinking of me.

Six months after I cut off communication, I found out from a mutual friend that he passed the bar. She was all too eager to show me the photos online. I’m sure she thought she was being friendly standing in the middle of the local bookstore scrolling through his photos gushing about our friend from college becoming a lawyer. When she got to the last photo, he had a girl on his arm beaming at the camera. It was the same one from the party that night. The girl at the bar who stared at us withjust a littletoo much interest. Now I knew why.

Another six months later, I found out he was engaged and getting married to the same girl. This time I finally found out her name since we were never introduced all those months ago. I found out because I was sitting at my breakfast nook, reading the local paper, and there in the Sunday Social section was their wedding announcement along with a grainy black and white photo of the smiling, happy couple—Brad and Lydia. I had a violent physical reaction to the news. I had to get up and run to the bathroom whereI proceeded to throw up my entire breakfast. He had moved on. I had to realize that our love wasn’t his big love; he found that with someone else. What I couldn’t get over or stop wondering about was why did he just check out and give up on me? We had literally just had great sex and trust me, I overanalyzed that night for a very long time. There were no signs something was wrong, no inclinations, nothing. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the problem with overthinking and analyzing.

I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts of him. Now isn’t the time or the place to do this to myself on what’s meant to be a happy, memorable day for me. He’s moved on and so have I. I just have to remind myself of that. I have this wonderful house that’s all mine. Now I just have to fill it with people and things that I love.

September 17, 2013

I look down at my left hand as the light reflects and shines off the large emerald-cut diamond. It’s so pretty and I’m so happy. If you would have told me only a year ago I would have gone grocery shopping, tripped in the parking lot, and a nice doctor loading their groceries into their trunk would have seen and rushed over to help me and then we would fall in love, I wouldn’t have believed you. That’s exactly what happened, though. I literally tripped over my own feet, falling face-first into the asphalt of the parking lot of thePiggly Wiggly.

While my knees were bleeding profusely and my hands were scuffed up, Todd, who was loading groceries into the trunk of his Subaru, saw everything and came rushing over. I thought he was just being friendly as he accessed my wounds, but it turned outthat he is a real doctor. One thing led to another and we ended up exchanging numbers as I sat in the back of his hatchback while he applied bandages to my legs from his first aid kit.

We started going on dates but not calling them dates shortly after meeting and it evolved into a relationship. When we went to a football game two weeks ago, he got down on one knee in the middle of the cookout with all of our friends watching and asked me to marry him. We spent the game celebrating and I showed off my engagement ring.

One thing women who were in sororities know how to do well is plan a party. Instead of hiring a wedding planner, I opted to use my friends to help, plan, organize, and coordinate. Clearly, it’s early in the planning but I’ve essentially been planning my wedding since I was a teenager. I mean how hard can it be to plan a wedding? I just thought being engaged would make me so excited to plan and organize but once I started I felt this incredible urge to procrastinate. My head tells me one thing but my heart tells me another.

I just have to figure out which one to listen to.

COULDA, SHOULDA, WOULDA

February 15, 2018

Eight years ago, I should have listened to my gut. There was a reason why I wasn’t excited to plan the wedding. There was a reason why I was sad on my wedding day. There was a reason why I never wanted to have kids, there was a reason why I always planned group trips instead of romantic getaways. If I could go back, I would have said no to the proposal. I wouldn’t have ever planned a wedding or ended up getting married to Todd.

God, what a pretentious name. It fits him since he’s such a pretentious asshole. If I had to hear him talk about the fact that he’s a doctor one more time, I was going to rip my hair out. Always belittling my career, talking down to me, ostracizing my friends so we would only hang out with his; who are also all pretentious assholes too. The thought of him and all his friends has me slamming a picture frame into a box just alittletoo hard. I hear a crack and know that I have created another crack in the façade of my life.

I walk around my house gathering things that I know are Todds, throwing them into the cardboard box in my other hand. A notepad here, a football jersey there, his obnoxious shoe horns.The majority of his things long gone right along with him. While we were married, we moved across the country so he could practice medicine at one of the world-renowned hospitals in California. At first, I really enjoyed living on the west coast even though everyone knows the east coast is the best coast. The winters were warmer I’ll admit, but as time went on I began to feel more and more isolated from my friends and family. This glass house that many would kill to live in slowly became my own prison. Thank God I kept my house back home in Ohio.

The smartest piece of advice my father ever gave me was to get a prenuptial agreement. It was awkward as hell to talk about but looking back, I’m glad that I did it because it kept me from losing the house that I had bought when I was single. If I hadn’t Todd would have tried to come after it like he did everything else once I told him I didn’t really love him anymore—if ever. I guess I should have thought that last piece only to myself instead of voicing it.

I continue my walk through the house, gathering any random items he left behind. I want nothing else left of him in my life. He took up too much time in my life and I refuse to give him anymore. When I’m done with this box I’ll leave it on the lawn for him to come pick up. The divorce is underway but since California is a no-fault state it’s a longer process and it’ll be months before it can be finalized. At this point, most of our communication is done through our lawyers. He’s always working and when he isn’t he expects me to jump through hoops for him, he quickly realized I wasn’t going to do that when I started having my lawyer return his calls.

Most of his calls have to do with this house, which is a huge point of contention. Currently, I’m living in it, but as the divorce becomes finalized, it will be sold and we’ll split the profits. Frankly, he’s pouting like a baby because my lawyer was able to get thejudge to say I could keep living in it while he had to find other arrangements. It didn’t help Todd that he lashed out at the judge in court and showed him his true colors.

When I finish my perusal of the house, I haphazardly throw the box on the lawn and notice some of the items tumble out onto the freshly cut grass. I shrug, go back inside, and lock the door behind me. I go to the kitchen in search of something to eat for lunch. I take out my leftovers from last night’s I’m-single-again-on-Valentine’s dinner. It’s going to be a long night of working on my computer and I can feel the tension in my neck already. When my leftovers ding in the microwave, I sit down at the table to begin to eat but of course the doorbell rings. I never answer the door here because you just don’t know what kind of weirdo comes knocking and honestly, it’s probably a solicitor who refused to read theNo Solicitingsign by the doorbell.

I ignore the doorbell and start to eat. They ring it again; I ignore it and keep chowing down on my fettuccine. When they start banging their fist on my door, I finally get up and stalk to the door. I stand up on my tiptoes to look out the peephole. A shriek comes out my lips when I see what’s on the other side of my door. I undo the locks and fling the door open.

“Oh my God! What are you doing here?”

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