thenowhere posted my piece for her meme.
It makes me sad to talk to him on the phone. Everything I don’t have but need becomes apparent. Each word thuds into my heart. I’m reminded why I said No, why I said I Can’t Do This Anymore, while aching throughout for even a tablescrap crumb of affection. I lean into the receiver, trying to press myself closer to what hurts me, as if by curling up with the snake, it might become friendly and decide not to bite. I feel absurd. We get closer to Goodbye and my eyes grow hot. If there had been an explosion, a blooded kill of an end to us, I might be able to suspend this endless crumple as I hang up the phone. Instead he didn’t even understand until I asked for my keys back, until I demanded that he change something and pointed out how rather than put the effort in, he’d been coasting. Nothing less, I said, I can’t live like this.
When I went away, he was the only one who didn’t send a letter.