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“Well, that would just be the way of it.”
With the way my life has been the last several months, I have to agree. It’s as if the universe is bound and determined to break me. I refuse to give it the satisfaction. If my bastard husband and his twatwaffle mistress couldn’t do it, then a sexy Latino man who rocked one night of my life certainly won’t.
I just wish I could scrub him from my brain. It would make things so much easier. Instead, it’s as if he’s taken up permanent residence in my gray matter. He’s the first thought on my mind when I wake up in the morning, lingers throughout the day, haunts me at night, and has even begun starring in my dreams.
To make matters even worse, I’ve dreamed several times that I’m pregnant. Jean is very spiritual and believes in prophetic dreams, so she’s adamant that it means something big. Namely, that I’m carrying his baby.
Until the tests say otherwise, I’m straddling the fence. My body says one thing; my mind says another. It’s enough to drive a person up the wall.
“I bet Alejandro has women in every state. He’s probably married and has twelve kids too.”
I laugh at Jean’s ponderings, but it falls flat. It’s something I’ve considered too many times to count. Silence breeds paranoia.
I just want answers.
“So do you still think he’s going to come back?” she asks me.
“Yeah, maybe.” I hesitate to say definitely, because there’s no way to prove it, and I deal in definites.
“Well if he does, use his ass. I mean really use it. Ride him up and down the county like a bronco and then dump his ass.”
I laugh. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. But I’m just not that kind of person. “Sounds like a plan,” I say, playing along.
“I hope you are pregnant,” she said with venom. “Then your loser husband will cry like a bitch and Alejandro will have to give you all his money. Serves the bastards right.”
She makes no bones about where she stands on the subject of my life. I find it refreshing, though, a new perspective to consider because it’s so easy to lose sight of things sometimes.
“I don’t know if I want another baby,” I comment for the hundredth time. No matter how many times I say it, though, it just doesn’t ring true anymore. “I don’t know if I could handle any more responsibility at the moment. And I never saw myself raising a kid alone.”
“You never saw yourself raising any kids alone, but look at you now. You have three, and you’re making it work. One more isn’t going to break you. You’re the strongest person I know. Plus, you have me and a ton of people who love and respect you that would help you in a heartbeat if you asked.”
She’s right, I concede. I have a big family, and they’ve been in my corner since the day I kicked my husband out of the house. I’ll never be alone, no matter how often I tend to feel like I am.
“Thanks.”
“None needed. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Everything is going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
We both laugh and then move the topic to something lighter. Later, I reflect on the path my life has taken in such a short period of time. I’ve lost my husband to a tramp barely out of high school, and I’ve hooked up with a younger man who stole part of my heart while possibly giving me the greatest gift in return.
I’d like to be mad. I’d like to rail at the injustice of it all.
But I can’t seem to find it in me to be anything but grateful.
This year, I found a depth of strength in myself that I never thought I had. I found my self-worth, confidence unparalleled, more friends than I know what to do with, and an independence that I’d never get being tied to a loveless, one-sided marriage.
In many respects, I’ve been unburdened in a major way, and in turn been given the gift of self-discovery.
How can I be mad at that?
I don’t know where this life will lead me, or who will come along for the ride, but I know one thing for sure…
Wherever I go, I’m going to be happy. Life is too short to accept anything less.
Epilogue
