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My cellphone’s ringtone blares and I rush to answer it, thinking that it’ll be a call back from Tristan. I’m disappointed when it’s Gerry’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Harmony, I’ve received my divorce certificate in the mail.”
“So?” I told him not to call me again.
“I… I wanted to let you know. I’m coming back to see my parents next week, I was wondering…” He sighs. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee while I’m there?”
The line is silent because I can’t physically push the words I want to say out of my mouth. How dare he! “Gerry, I—”
“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole but… I want to apologize in person.”
His voice sounds small and all of those old feelings I had for him resurface for a second before I squash them back down. “No. I’m sorry but I don’t think an apology is necessary. Years ago? Yes. But now? No.”
“I… Well that certainly changes things. I was hoping you were going to be reasonable.”
I hear a female voice in the background calling his name and my heart sinks.
“She’s… She’s there, isn’t she?”
“I… I have to go.” There’s a click and I know that he’s gone to save an explanation, not that he owes me one, we are divorced now after all.
I’m so stupid! I put myself in a situation where I would get my heart broken; again. I let myself be ridiculed for my career choice on the daily. I let myself believe he was the reason I kept afloat all of these years. He may have been the one that stopped me from drowning at the start, but I’m the only one that’s kept me from falling back under.
Sad tears stream down my face as I slide my cellphone onto my office desk on my way out of the room before walking up the stairs to my studio.
I stand and stare out of the window on the balcony doors for what feels like forever, watching the bright light of day turn to dark before turning and gazing at the covered easel in the corner.
I take tentative steps toward it as if it would scare if I made a loud noise. I touch the soft material of the sheet that’s over the top of it and fist it in my hand, pulling at it gently and revealing my masterpiece.
It screams of happy times and beautiful places, of love and warmth and… everything I no longer have. My hand shakes and a sob vibrates through my body, taking hold of every single nerve ending.
I feel the pain of everything all over again: the way that I was left, the months that followed, and then meeting someone else that finally seemed to pay attention to me and care. Then came the ridicule, the arguments, the tamped-down words I always wanted to say.
The finality of it all.
My chest heaves as I pull in big lungfuls of breath as I try to calm myself down now that I’ve had my meltdown. My sobs slowly turn into sniffles, and as I sit here staring at the painting in front of me, feeling numb, I know that it’s time to move on.
Oasis—Don’t look back in anger
I listen to the message over and over again, pressing repeat each time it ends. Her voice is like music to my ears, and I shiver each and every time she speaks. I’ll never get tired of hearing it—not now, not ever.
Then I realize what she said. The kids are there? The blood in my veins starts to boil, the burning flowing throughout my whole body as I stand up and push my chair back in anger.
How dare my mom take them back there when I specifically told her that they weren’t to set foot in there again.
I’m not thinking rationally as I storm down the stairs before swiping my keys off the table and heading out the door to my car.
My mind works on automatic, taking me to my mom’s to get the kids as the anger simmers underneath the surface, ready to boil over and slip free. There’s no way that I’m letting her have them again, not after taking them there and not listening to me.
I park haphazardly when I get in front of her house, pushing my door open and leaving the engine running as I run up to her door and slam my hand on it, calling out for her. “I know you’re in there!” Silence. I bang on the door again and again, the palm of my hand stinging as I hit it as hard as I can to no avail. “Fuck!”
I spin around, my gaze flitting over the street and not seeing Edward’s car here. My gaze settles on my car as her voice floats back into my thoughts. If I can’t get the kids, then I’ll go and confront her first.
It’s nearly dark by the time I get there, the streetlight shining outside, illuminating the cobblestone path and flowers. I jump out of the car, slamming the d
oor and rushing to the start of the path, my head tilting back as I see a light on upstairs.
She’s still here. Good, I can find out what the hell she’s playing at.
