...for the other shoe to drop.
And it doesn't. No confrontation, apology, explanation, attempts to cajole... It has been a week (De-Tox Day 7). When the phone rings now, I never think it's him. I have an all-new Yahoo account; so I check it dutifully, once a day, without trepidation. He is GONE-gone. So gone that he doesn't check my old blog, nor has he done the simple detective work needed to find my new one. So gone that my widget never shows a visit from our suburb. So gone that he hasn't asked our mutual friend to call me with explanations or apologies. So gone that I'm left to wonder whether he actually went and picked up his pocket watch.
He knows my routine. If he wanted to, he could find me; find my car. He used to stop by the gym and leave flowers under my windshield wiper. He would sometimes pay a visit to Guadalupe and leave small tokens. Once I found a little single-serve cup of pickles on my truck. He knows the days and times that I shop. We always used to text each other:
"I'm at Smith's, looking for the sexiest lady in Cottonwood."
"Poor you. You missed her by 15 minutes."
"Awww. I'm at Home Depot."
We only managed it one time. And we hadn't even tried. I walked out of the store with a shopping bag over my arm and there he was, almost jumping up and down, he was so tickled.
"Fancy meeting YOU here!"
People swirled by on both sides of us; but, as always when we were together, we were oblivious. Looking onto each other's eyes. My finger reached out to touch one of the snaps on his jacket.
Later, I asked him, "How did you do that?"
"Pure coincidence! I must've been trying too hard before!"
And so I watch for him. I don't really want to see him. My knees would knock with terror if I did. But as I drive around town, I search every intersection for a ratty blue Jetta. My heart knocks painfully against my chest when I see an orange North Face jacket in the store. A man in Carharts walking away from me. But it's never the bow-legged amble that I'm familiar with.
I look at my windshield wiper EVERY TIME I walk up to my truck. I can't wait to stop doing that. Watch, that will be the last vestige.
BUT! I only cried once today.
Grandpa Mario came to check on me and I was able to tell him that I was a bit better. ("Mejor, Gracias! Un poco mejor.") "That's because I have been praying for you," he said.
And I did get my "Learn to Play Poker" party organized for this Friday. I still have three places left if any of you local blog-readers want to be dealt in.... But you have to NOT KNOW HOW to play poker. That's the only rule. Well, and you have to like to cackle and act obnoxious. Moira and I will smoke cigars.
I also started researching what sorts of permits are needed to do a 5-day canoe-trip down the mighty Green River through Canyonlands National Park. CB told me about this trip. He did it years ago, when he was in college, and he wanted take me there this summer. Normally, he does raft-trips; but he knows I am a canoeist. I will plan and execute this trip without him. I will invite a bunch of friends; take my kids; and Simon, if we stay together. And I will have an awesome time.
And I had fun e-mailing with my divorce lawyer today, because we are old friends. I told him that I was taking a break from divorce proceedings because my heart was in bad shape. We had to email like this:
***This is Kate-your-friend***
I am reduced to sleeping with my son's sock monkey! Turns out that my grand passion is a CAD!! I'll take you out for coffee and regale you.
***This is Kate-your-client***
I owe you money for the time you have put in so far. About two hours. Tell me how much I owe you.
***This is Chad-your-friend***
***This is Chad-your-attorney***
Don't worry about the money. I will take the coffee, though.
53 days left.