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 1st, but I would be able to pay a partial month and move in
as soon as the 20th 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 31st.”
“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.