Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks into the separation, and I’ve developed a routine. Wake up, forget he’s gone, remember, cry in the shower, paint until my arms ache, then let Lilly drag me out of the house for something she deems necessary for my “healing.” Today, it’s shopping.
“You need new clothes,” she announces, pulling me through the mall entrance. “Something that makes you feel you again.”
“I have clothes,” I protest, but let her guide me, anyway. The truth is, getting out of the house helps. It’s easier to breathe in public spaces where Jeremy and I never built memories.
“You have sad clothes,” she corrects. “We’re getting you something that makes you feel strong.”
The fluorescent lights of the department store make my head spin a little. Or maybe it’s the lack of breakfast–I couldn’t stomach anything this morning, the mere thought of food making me queasy. I’ve been off lately, probably stress.
“Here,” she throws me a deep green dress at me. “This would look amazing with your eyes.”
I take the dress, running my fingers over the soft fabric. “Where would I even wear this?”
“Anywhere you want. You need to remember who you are outside of…” she trails off, careful not to say his name.
The dressing room is small and warm, mirrors on all sides reflecting my tired face back at me. I slip the dress over my head, surprised by how well it fits. The fabric hugs my curves in a way that feels both comfortable and confident.
“Let me see!”
When I open the door, her face lights up. “Lex, you look incredible.”
I turn to the mirror again, really looking this time. The woman staring back at me looks different somehow–stronger maybe, or at least like someone who could be strong. But as I study my reflection, a wave of dizziness hits me. The room tilts slightly, and I grab the doorframe to steady myself.
“Whoa,” her hand is on my arm instantly. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just got dizzy for a second.”
Her brow furrows with concern. “When’s the last time you ate?”
I think back, trying to remember. The days have blurred together. “I don’t know.”
“That’s it. We’re getting food right now.” She helps me change back into my clothes, insisting on buying the dress despite my protests. “You can’t survive on coffee and sadness, Lex.”
We make our way to the food court, but the smell of greasy fast food makes my stomach turn. I opt for a smoothie instead, sipping it slowly while Lilly devours a burger.
“Maybe we should get away for a few days,” she suggests between bites. “My parents still have that beach house. It would do you good to get out of town.
The idea of leaving, even briefly, makes my chest tight. “I don’t know…”
“Just think about it,” she says, not pushing further.
Back home, I hang the new dress in my closet, trying not to look at Jeremy’s shirts still hanging on his side. The separation was supposed to give us time to figure things out, but all it’s done is make everything feel more final.
I’m about to head to my art room when the doorbell rings. My heart jumps–Jeremy still has his key. He wouldn’t need to ring. Through the peephole, I see a man in a suit holding an envelope.
My hands shake as I open the door.
“Alexis Kline?” he asks, consulting his clipboard.
I nod, unable to find my voice.
“You’ve been served.” He hands me the envelope and turns to leave, just like that. Like he hasn’t just handed me the end of my marriage in a manila envelope.
I stand in the doorway, opening it. Petition for Divorce. The words blur as tears fill my eyes.
My phone buzzes in my pocket–Lilly, checking in like she always does after we part ways. I can’t answer. Can’t move. Can’t breathe.
I slide down against the wall; the papers clutched to my chest. This is really happening. After five years of marriage, after all our promises and plans, it ends with a stranger at my door and legal documents.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been served divorce papers. For twenty minutes, I’ve been in my car observing people go into the brick building that is home to the law offices. Each person who walks through those glass doors is living their own story. Divorce. Custody. Wills. How many hearts have been broken in that building?
My hands won’t stop shaking and I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to steady them, but my whole body feels like it might shatter. The coffee I forced down earlier churns in my stomach.
“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror. I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time since the papers were served. I haven’t even taken my ring off yet. My phone buzzes, a text from Lilly.
Lilly
You’ve got this. Call me after. Love you.
10:50 AM. My appointment’s at 11:00. I can’t put this off any longer.
The walk from my car to the building takes forever. My heels click against the pavement–I dressed up for this. Like looking put-together on the outside might help me feel less broken on the inside. The new dress I bought yesterday already feels too tight, constricting around my chest.
A young couple passes me, holding hands, laughing about something. I have to stop walking, press my hand against the rough brick wall until the wave of nausea passes. Was that us once? Young and in love, thinking we had forever?
The elevator smells like someone’s too-strong perfume. I watch the numbers climb: 1… 2… 3… My heart pounds harder with each floor. Fourth floor. Jefferson I don’t even recognize myself anymore. But I’m trying to find out.
I start small. Buy groceries just for me. Learn to cook meals for one. Take walks in the evening instead of sitting in an empty house. The world keeps turning, whether or not I’m ready.
Some nights are still hard. I lie awake, staring at his side of the bed–my side now, I’ve started sleeping in the middle–wondering if he lies awake too. Wondering if he misses me, misses us. Wondering if I’ll ever stop missing him.
But slowly, breath by breath, day by day, I’m learning how to exist in this new reality. Learning how to be Alexis instead of Jeremy-and-Alexis.