Thirty-seven
Sarah
My eyes burned as I scrolled my Live List. Tonight, I was alone and frantic for a way to keep myself busy.
I’d managed to stuff the first two days of the week with massages, swimming at the gym, and some projects in the garage, but now my house basically looked like an ad out of Better Homes and Gardens.
There was literally nothing left to do around here but bask in its perfection.
And basking wasn’t really my goal. In fact, I was tempted to mess it all up so I could fix it again. I just needed something to do…
I had the whole evening ahead of me and couldn’t stand the idea of spending it by myself. But I wasn’t up for calling Jackie again. Things had been a little awkward between us since our conversation about Andre and I didn’t want to hang out with him again.
So I scrolled my list for inspiration. Surely there was something on here that wouldn’t make me think of Peter. But item after item, my brain flitted to him against my will because all of these things had been chosen with us in mind. I had never intended to do any of them by myself.
Growling with frustration, I slammed my laptop closed and flopped backward on my bed to stare at the ceiling.
No matter how hard I tried not to think about him, he was the only thing I thought about.
And I was sick of it. Peter probably wasn’t sitting at the ranch obsessing over me, so why should I obsess over him?
He had made his wants very clear and laid out what our life would look like together if I stayed with him. He did not want to be a husband. He did not want to try. He did not want adventures. He would not attempt to be the man I married. And, worst of all, he did not want me.
He even sealed it with a kiss…with another woman.
So why the hell did my stupid brain miss him?
Then it dawned on me.
Maybe I needed a new list.
The one Peter and I made together felt so us.
If I made a new one with things I could just do, then maybe I would be inspired to do stuff without him.
Reopening my computer, I pulled up a brand new Google Sheet and took ten minutes formatting, merging, and coloring the cells.
I typed in the headings: description, address (if applicable), date of addition, date of completion, picture proof.
Then I stared at the blank screen for thirty minutes.
The only item I came up with was “do something drastic with your hair.”
And that was it.
The screen blurred as I argued with my heart. Did I really have no vision for myself as an individual? Did I really want nothing without Peter? Why was altering my appearance the only thing I could think of?
Apparently, Peter Thompson had become my entire personality.
My mother flashed across my mind. But I gritted my teeth and positioned my hands on the keyboard, shoving her away. I had to finish this list.
“Have a baby.”
There we go. I found something real. But as I stared at the words, tears pricked at my eyes. In the throes of a broken marriage, solve world hunger seemed more realistic.
What would my have a baby strategy be? Find another man? Adopt?
I snorted as the silent house mocked me.
His absence stole the oxygen from all my dreams—even my dream to be a mom. And I couldn’t use a child to satiate my broken heart. It wouldn’t work anyway.
Closing my computer again, I fell onto my pillows, fighting to not shatter into a thousand pieces.
And as I stared at the ceiling, the quiet overtook me.
My heart, hell bent on remembering that awful moment, drummed up the memory of the way Peter’s cheek turned pink, of the way water pooled in the corner of his eye, in the way his jaw hung in shock as I walked out the door.
The amount of times I’d thought about that slap made me nauseous. Why did I hit him? I’d give anything to time travel and take it back. Even if we weren’t on good terms, we owed each other the most basic respect.
I imagined what Peter must’ve felt like.
My husband was blind and I hit him. Completely out of the blue. He didn’t even have a chance to mentally prepare himself. Stifling a cry with the palm of my hand, I cursed myself for such cruelty. I was so hurt and angry that I’d completely lost my head.
Peter had never been rough with me. I could almost feel his fingers running over the curve of my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips, and his palm sliding to the side of my neck.
The smack reverberated in the silence, and I lifted a fist and hit my forehead, wishing I could crush the memory.
If our love hadn’t been so perfect, this wouldn’t hurt this bad.
My phone’s quick vibration interrupted my spiral.
Jackie
You’ll be happy to know that Andre and I are no more.
Blinking, I stared at my phone as conflicting feelings stormed my chest. No, I wasn’t happy that Jackie had been sucked into the swipe-dating vortex. But, yes, I was glad Andre got the boot.
Me
Oh Jackie. I’m sorry.
Jackie
Don’t lie. You don’t do it well. eye roll emoji
Me
I’m not lying. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Jackie
It’s not a big deal. You were mostly right about him anyway.
Me
Do you need the boys? They are ready and waiting for you.
Jackie
Ben and Jerry?
Yes, yes. I ALWAYS need the boys.
Me
They’ll never break up with you.
Jackie
Ever faithful. Ever true.
Me
Seriously. Come over. We’ll watch a movie and eat and sob.
Jackie
I’m coming, but if you start sobbing, I’m leaving.
Me
Fine. No sobbing.