Started With a Lie

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty-Four

The next morning, the rain is gone and so is Lee. I wake up to an empty but messy living room with blankets spread everywhere and a carpet that's traveled halfway across the room. I'm scared and confused at first. I had fallen asleep happily with him uncomfortably squished by my side and now waking up alone, I trace the wrinkle in the sheets where he had lay. But I guess he just left because he knew it was better off this way.

"Here we go," I mutter to myself, rubbing my eyes. "Today's going to be a good day. You can do this, Ivory." I read somewhere it's scientifically proven that if you start—well, attempt to start positively—it'll begin better than days when you don't.

I'm half asleep in the bathroom as I brush my teeth, use the toilet, and shower. I'm half asleep when I'm changing into a jeans skirt and a floral shirt and doing my hair. I'm so half asleep during breakfast that I pour too much milk into my bowl, causing it to spill onto the granite counter. I'm even half asleep wiping it away with a towel, my actions incredibly slow and lingering.

As I force myself to eat, I realize I'm not half asleep. This is how life will be from now on.

When I place my half-empty bowl of cereal in the sink—I couldn't eat it all without feeling like puking—I discover a light blue piece of paper taped to the faucet. It's a note from Lee. It's possibly the strangest place he could've placed it but I'm suddenly awake and rushing to get it open.

It reads, Good morning, baby. But the 'baby' is crossed out as if he thought better of it.

  Here goes Day One of our separation. I don't even know why I am writing a letter addressing it. I don't like it. I just wanted to leave you a note because it feels wrong abandoning you to wake up alone. I know you told me that we should just say goodbye as if I just slipped off to work or as if I'm going on a really, really, really long vacation. I wish that were true. I'm trying to be blindly positive about this and ignoring every bone in my body to just crawl back under the covers to sleep another minute with you and stay forever. I'm trying to respect your wishes. And your life. And everyone's. This is what we need to do. You're right. I wish you weren't, but you are. Just wanted to say (even though you know) I LOVE YOU and I know I'll probably feel like this forever, no matter what you see. I am merely a planet orbiting around the beautiful sun known as Ivory Flores. It really has been a pleasure.

 I will see you soon when I return from my vacation in, uh, the Bahamas.

It is just another day. Just another twenty-four hours. Goodbye, love.

I don't know how many times I read it and then re-read it but it's to the point where the remaining cereal in my bowl has gone soggy and sunk into the milk. The dam I've put up mentally in my head and heart starts to wobble. I try to push it to be strong. Strong. Stronger. It's just another twenty-four hours. It'll be like any other day that I can get through. Life goes on.

Eventually, I put the letter down gently on the counter and turn away. I have things to do. I start by cleaning up the living room, putting a huge brick in my head to block out any memories of last night because I know I will not stop crying if I acknowledge the status of Lee and I. Instead, I fold blankets and fluff up pillows. I'm picking up random things when I run across his suit.

Half dry, the dark navy suit and his office shirt lays crumpled where I had undressed him. The second I pick it up, a waft of his cologne and his famous peppermint scent is in the air. I let myself indulge in it for one, two, three seconds before carefully putting the clothes aside on the sofa. Another day, I will let myself let go. Not today. Today's only the first.