Chapter 13 (5/14/16)

I have the best news, friends!  99.8% of my work for school is done, and I graduate in one week!  Guess what that means?  That means I'm going to try to get you guys more than one post every other week.  In fact, I'd like to get you all posts more than once a week!  I'm not going to set a schedule because I need to get back into the swing of things.  I will consider setting a schedule in the future, but for now I'm going to post when I can.  I know that's a pain for you all, but you can follow me on Bloglovin', by email, or via Blogger to make it easier to keep track of my likely erratic posting.  Thank you for your patience while I wrap up this crazy time of my life!

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The rest of my time at my parents’ house was uneventful.  My parents stopped acting as if I was either going to break or flip out at any point, and I was able to relax a little.  But eventually, of course, I had to head home.  Or to Kevin’s home, rather. 

Spending some time away was just another thing that made me realize how much I needed to move out.  I spent a lot of time looking at houses, but as December gave way to January, I knew I needed to start looking at rentals.  Between looking at houses I did not want to buy, I began looking at apartments and townhomes. 

Two weeks into January, I found a small townhome for rent that I really liked.  Fighting down my disappointment and bitterness, I paid the application fee and filled out the paperwork.  When I heard back that my application had been approved, I signed a lease and paid the deposit.  My lease would start on February 1^st, but I would be able to pay a partial month and move in as soon as the 20^th of January. 

I began packing with renewed vigor.  Sure, I wasn’t moving into my own house that I owned (or would own in 30 years when I finished paying the bank), but I was getting out of this terrible living situation.  I wouldn’t have to see Kevin’s face any more.  I wouldn’t have to hear him, or talk to him, or worry about walking in on him with his whores. 

I also started actually paying attention to the dating site that Chelsea had created my profile on.  Seeing Jamie had reminded me that dating and having sex was fun, and I was maybe ready to do a little more of it.  I had yet to respond to any messages, because most of them were short and stupid or blatantly creepy.  I also had yet to send a message, because I wasn’t that invested in dating.  But as I was scrolling through the messages I’d accumulated over the weeks, one of them caught my eye.  The message was funny, the guy was cute, and his profile was actually interesting.  I took far too long to craft a perfect message back to him, read it over three times, and hit send.  I immediately rolled my eyes at myself for caring so much about sending the “perfect” message to some strange guy on the internet, but I was new at this. 

I spent the rest of my evening messaging back and forth with him.  So far it seemed like he had a good sense of humor (and actually got my dry, sarcastic wit), plus he had a job and owned a house, which is always promising. 

When I woke up in the morning, I had another message waiting for me.  “Really enjoyed our chat last night.  I’d love to meet you.  I hope this isn’t too forward, but call or text me if you’d like to.”  He’d finished it up with his number and his first name, which was Dan.  I couldn’t help but be a little giddy.  I programmed his number into my phone, but decided to wait to text him. 

I made it all the way to lunch before I decided I had waited enough.  I sent a text telling him who I was and that I’d definitely like to meet him, but I’d like to talk a little more first.  I was nervous as I hit send, but it was a good kind of nervous.  He responded 10 minutes later, and we texted on and off all day.  And all week.  By the end of the week, I was comfortable enough to set up a casual coffee “date” with him for Saturday evening. 

“Are you Jenna?” The question came from a tall, lean man, walking towards me from the other end of the parking lot.

“Maybe,” I replied with a smirk.  “Are you Dan?”

He chuckled.  “I am.”  He stuck his hand out and I took it, shaking it firmly.  “Shall we?” he motioned towards the door and I nodded and walked inside. 

Once inside, we got in line to order our beverages.  I ordered a medium chai latte with coconut flavoring and paid for it, and he ordered a mug of green tea.  We took our beverages over to a small table near the fireplace and sat. 

We engaged in standard “getting to know you” conversation.  He had two sisters and a brother, all older.  He had a dog and some fish.  He lived near the hospital.  He worked for an insurance company and preferred the indoors to the outdoors.  We talked for four hours, until the coffee shop employees began wiping off tables and sweeping the floor.  When we left, we made plans to get together again.  I wondered for a second if he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. 

Kevin came home one day while I was packing up my DVDs, carefully pulling them from the shelf where they mixed amongst his.  “I’m having movers come on the 30th,” I told him without looking up.  “I’ll have all my stuff out of here by the 31^st.”

“Okay,” he responded.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you have to,” I replied, still not looking at him.

“Do you ever regret our divorce?”

I froze for a second, then put the DVD in my hand into the box and turned and looked at him.  “No,” I said bluntly. “I don’t.”

He nodded and considered this.  “It just happened so fast,” he said calmly.

I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes slightly.  I took a deep breath to compose myself, then said, “I can understand how it seemed fast for you, but for me it was two years in the making.  More, if we’re both being honest.”

He shrugged, then stood.  “I did love you, you know,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. 

            He stood for several more seconds, waiting.  I didn’t say anything.  He walked towards the doorway.  When he reached it, he paused.  Without turning around, he said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m much happier now than I ever was when we were married.  But I did love you.”

          “Fuck you,” I muttered.  But he didn’t hear me, because he was already gone.