The Dog Ate My Homework

Pockmarked Heart

I never would've married you if I'd have known you were in love with my best friend.

I should've realized it sooner, but I'd been blind, a fool.

It's funny because had it not been for Brian, I never would have known you. I never would have seen your smile. I never would have heard your laugh. I never would have known your kindness. I never would have fallen in love. And I never would have my heart broken into an infinite number of pieces, I'd need a sweeper to gather the crumbly remnants.

And even if I managed to piece everything back together, I'd end up with a pockmarked heart.

That's how you left me. Pockmarked. Disfigured. Scarred.

I should've realized it sooner.

Friday nights when we'd gone out on group dates. I loved making you laugh. I loved hearing you laugh so hard there'd be tears in your eyes. Brian would sit opposite us, with or without a date, and he'd say something completely off tangent. You'd look at him and smile. I'd think I was lucky to have such a nice girl who'd smile kindly at an idiot.

But then you'd also call Brian an idiot. You'd call him the primordial giant, my best friend who was awkwardly tall. You'd call him the ridiculous repellent. Or the ungainly unau. I had to find out what an unau was while Brian glared at you and you just smiled.

You'd never called me an idiot. Or primordial. Or ridiculous. Or ungainly. You just called me by my name—Adam. Or babe. The customary blandishment.

I hadn't realized the insults you'd thrown Brian were endearments.

I should've realized it then. If not then, I should've caught on when Brian started calling you ducky. That treacherous Brit.

I should've caught on when you'd step out of my arms or evade my kisses when we're with friends. I thought you were just uncomfortable showing affection in public. I never figured you only stepped away from me when you stepped closer to Brian—to say hello... and perhaps something more except that like the idiot who married you, he had also not caught on.

Brian had thought it impossible.

I had thought it was impossible. He had introduced us to each other in the first place. If he had been in love with you, why had he made such a foolish move?

But perhaps it had not seemed so foolish then. Perhaps he had thought he was doing the right thing. Perhaps he had thought that a primordial giant had no chance with a petite princess with brilliant blue eyes and golden hair and a smile that could brighten even the pits of hell.

Perhaps he had thought that by seeing you with someone else, he'd be cured of an indescribable infatuation.

He had thought wrong. And here we are today.

Thirteen months after I'd kneeled in front of you and asked for your hand.

Ten months after we'd exchanged vows in front of our friends, families and God.

You'd looked past me when the priest asked for your answer. I thought you'd looked past me to your mother, but I should've figured you were looking at the man who stood next to me.

You'd looked so serious. Sad even.

But then you had said yes. Then looked at me. And smiled.

I'd been so happy I hadn't noticed your smile was subdued.

I should've realized it then that you were wishing it were someone else standing in front of you.

Then I wouldn't have married you. And you wouldn't have married me. And I wouldn't need a sweeper to deal with the crumbly remnants of my pockmarked heart.

**

TheIlluminators