Hell, no.
When I finally escape the elevator, I inhale a deep breath of air. Thankfully, the day is only going up from here. I’m going home to see my puppies, and then I’ve got a coffee date with my best friends. Life could be worse.
* * *
I usually scribbledown in my journal so hard, I leave impressions on the next pages. It’s not your typical journal… it’s more of a rant book. Abby and Baxter are both staring at me sweetly — they are, like most dogs, fascinated by pretty much everything I do. And they love to sit at my feet when I stretch out on the sofa.
Today’s rants:
Why is there so much yapping on FM radio? I thought that was what AM radio was for. Who do I need to blow to hear some fucking music already?
People… the car engineers did not put those blinkers in just because they like pretty blinking lights. Use your fucking signals already.
Why are speculums so damn cold? It’s bad enough getting the thing stuffed up your girly bits. The least doctors could do is warm them up a little.
Elevators stuffers. People…. have some common courtesy already. No, we can’t stuff ‘just another person’. We have no desire to get intimate with your various sweaty, occasionally smelly body parts. So rude.
I throw my journal on the coffee table with a huff. “That feels much better,” I tell the kids (Abby and Baxter). Yes, I have a seriously low tolerance for other humans, and a very short fuse. Jacob used to always say I was like a grouchy old man in the body of the sexiest woman he’d ever met. Sigh. He’d always call meGrouchy Geezer. I can’t remember the last time he said that to me.
I hate that I miss him.
My cell sings, and when I pick it up and see his name on the screen, my silly heart skips a beat, despite the fact that I really don’t want to speak to him. I just want him to move on and leave me alone. Admittedly, a big part of me doesn’t really want that, but the pragmatic side of me knows it would be for the best, for both of us.
“Hello,” I deadpan.
“Hey, Corrie,” he says. I used to love his smooth sexy voice, but now I kind of hate it. Every time I speak to him on the phone, it pulls at me. “What are you up today?”
I exhale. “Uh… well, if you must know, I had a doctor’s appointment and I’m heading for coffee with the girls.”
“Is everything all right?” he asks. “Why did you see the doctor?”
“Just a routine checkup, Jacob,” I reassure him.
“That’s good to hear,” he says. “I’m doing great too. Not that you asked, but I thought I’d keep you in the loop. The leg’s almost one hundred percent. But the physio is a killer.”
He always does this. He calls me, and tells me his whole life story. How am I supposed to move on? Don’t get me wrong… I do care, especially since I’m the one who took care of him after his motorcycle accident. Just as we were about to jump into divorce proceedings, he goes and gets himself thrown off that stupid bike.
“Did you get rid of it yet?” I ask.
He laughs. “Nope. Actually, I was just shining it up today. It’s a great day for a ride.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ll never learn.”
“You’re probably right,” he concedes.
“So as much as I’m enjoying this lovely conversation, what do you want, Jacob?”
“I need to set up a meeting with Greg to go over our finances?” he tells me. “I know you hate that stuff, but you should really be there.”
I sigh. I’m really not in the mood for a meeting with our financial advisor. Being an attorney, Jacob is very good at making sense of all those statements. It’s always been over my head. Yet I’m very happy to see that he’s not dragging his heels anymore, that he’s finally moving the process along. He’s been pushing it back forever, not willing to accept the fact that I want a divorce.
“Okay, text me the time and place, and I’ll let you know if it’s good,” I tell him. “I need to go now,” I add briskly and end the call.
Abby and Baxter are both staring at me curiously.
“Yep… that was your boyfriend, Abby,” I tell her and her little pointy ears perk up. Jacob’s never been a big fan of my babies, but little Abby is madly in love with him. Despite his objections, she’d always follow him around and cuddle up close to him. Jacob’s more of a big dog person (Pomeranians are not his thing), but I know he secretly loves her.
I check the time on my phone and realize that I’m running late. I scurry to get myself together. Abby and Baxter shoot me sad little faces — they know I’m heading out and they make me feel guilty about it every time.
“I won’t be long,” I tell them and blow them air kisses as I step out the door.
