I wished you the best of
All this world could give
And I told you when you left me
There's nothing to forgive
But I always thought you'd come back, tell me
All you found was heartbreak and misery
It's hard for me to say,
I'm jealous of the way
You're happy without me
I put the key in the lock and mentally cross my fingers that my key still works. In hopes that he hadn't changed the locks yet, or that he never will.
I walked in cautiously as I braced myself for his dog to come investigate if his master had arrived. I shrug my shoulders when the house remains silent. No sound of doggie paws hitting the hardwood floor at all.
I take a deep breath and take it all in. My senses seek the smell of what I had associated with home when I lived here. The smell of our dogs food that we placed in bowls by the pantry in the kitchen. The smell of that pumpkin candle I usually forgot to blow out before I left. The smell of the flowers I insisted always grace our entry table. But none of those scents hit my nose. Not a single thing seems the same. Even the table in the entry way is different. Guess he redecorated, which the notion in itself is off because he hated dealing with any of that. That's why I usually did it.
It feels strange being here without him. It feels lonely as I walk around looking for the little touches I left behind when I walked out the door. But as I wander from room to room my stomach shifts uneasily as I see that he's erased every trace of me.
There's a nook in the pantry where I carved out our initials, silly I know, but I was only seventeen then. Our love was new and I wanted to put my stamp on a place that was only his. I wanted him to have a constant reminder of what we were. And at seventeen years old I thought him seeing our initials carved inside a heart every time he got a snack was cute.
Even when we had our off moments he left my silly carving up and when we inevitably came together again I was relieved and giddy to see it there still. That made me feel like even when we weren't together physically, emotionally we still were.
But now as I search for it my stomach cramps painfully in realization that it's gone. That the slither of hope of their being an us again is non-existent. The contents of my stomach rebel and I'm forced to relieve them in the guest bathroom. It's when I'm done rinsing my mouth that I hear the front door open.
I hear his voice as he congratulates his dog on a good run. Of course it's Sunday. The day he always dedicated to his furry friends. Batman loved Sunday's. He used to try to outrun spawn every time, Wilmer would relay to me while he cooled off on the back deck a beer in hand.
It was a routine I was used to a routine I knew like the back of my hand. He would sit, legs spread, and tell me funny things that he saw during their run. Then he would take one last swig of his beer and hold his arm out to me beckoning me to join him. I would smile and sit where I knew I belonged, on his lap, in his arms.
After talking about our dreams. Fine combing through the plans we had made long ago. He would kiss me. He kissed me like nothing or no one else mattered. He kissed me like it would be our last kiss and so it had to be the best one yet. In the beginning that would make me feel uneasy. To me it sometimes felt like he was preparing me, us for a goodbye that I didn't want to give. But like the true master that he had proved to be he would read my mind, my body language and would lift me in his arms and carry me to our bedroom. There he would whisper why he loved me. There he would show me with his mouth, his body how much he loved me. And as we snuggled after he would kiss my nose and confide that he hoped our future daughter had freckles like me. He would trace my chin and say that our son would look adorable with my little butt chin. He would kiss my lips and murmur how our children would be blessed to have a voice like mine.
