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October 04, 2007

i'm getting ready to let you go

On Valentine's Day evening I drove Up North to have dinner with The Husband. He sent me text messages on the way--"Hurry up," and "I'm waiting for you," and "I love you and I can't wait to see you." We had a drink at the bar and another at our table (a booth, so we could sit next to each other like any other couple in love) and, giddy from the sentiments of the day and The Husband's proximity and the vodka, I blurted out to him what I'd been thinking about for a few weeks: "Come home." In retrospect I suppose I should have kept my goddamn mouth shut, but in February I still had the tenacious optimism that I would prevail, the optimism that insisted things would work out the way I wanted them to--in direct contrast to how my gut insisted, just as forcefully, that they would not; the optimism that was oblivious to the fact of Miss Saigon and The Husband's other life.

"Okay," said The Husband back to me that night.

Well, so it's October now and my birthday in a week and a half. I live with Moo and Herself and three cats and a dog and a lizard, a turtle, and two birds. The Husband lives with Miss Saigon. He says "when I come home," not "if I come home," but that's as much of a commitment as he'll make and when he does say it I think to myself, "tomorrow never comes."

Eleven.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)