I crept downstairs in the pale, gray light of dawn, checking that David’s return wasn’t imminent. We’d have about two minutes after hearing his car in the driveway: just enough time for Sebastian to make an escape through the back door. I’d liked to have made breakfast for him but there was a good chance that David would return soon to get a change of clothes.
We stood in the kitchen, the scene of so much drama, so many key moments in our lives, and held each other.
“I’ll miss you every minute,” he said softly.
I sighed into his chest.
“Shall I see you at the park at 9 AM?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
And then it was time for him to go. It seemed to me like it was always time for him to go. I knew he felt the same.
But David didn’t return. Instead I spent the hours before I could be with Sebastian again wandering around the empty house, letting my fingers drift over the old, familiar furniture and through the old, familiar memories.
I decided what I would take with me from the marital home. When it came down to it, there was very little: my clothes; the jewelry my father had given me; my ancient laptop; a few books; and my favorite CDs which were already in the car. The ugly wedding china that my parents had bought us had been my mother’s choice – I was more than happy for David to keep it. It wasn’t much to show for 11 years of marriage, but with a new life ahead of me, I didn’t care either. That, by itself, said everything.
When I’d still lived in North Carolina, some friends and I had had a rather drunken evening and we’d all had to choose which three things we’d save in a house fire. One woman that I didn’t know very well said, and I remembered this clearly, “My dog, my handbag and my wedding album”. “What about your husband?” we’d asked, laughing. “He can get his own damn self out,” she’d replied.
I had one other job to do before I left the house: I scoured the rooms-to-rent websites and made a shortlist of five places to check out. I didn’t much care what the room was like so long as it was cheap and reasonably clean. It wasn’t going to be for long.
Despite my lack of sleep, I was filled with a nervous, restless energy. I’d made my decision and now I was ready to get on with my life. The last month had raced by, but the next few days seemed destined to drag.
I headed back up to the bathroom and gritted my teeth through a tepid shower that stung my too sensitive skin. All the burn marks were ugly but only my foot really bothered me. I dug in the closet and eventually located a pair of long, loose pants and found some old sneakers that were bearable once I’d made a gauze pad to cover the large blister. Not my most elegant look but hell, Sebastian wouldn’t care. And that was all that mattered.
He was waiting for me, of course, and just seeing him made my day a little brighter.
“How are you?” he said again, peering anxiously at my face.
“I’m… surprisingly good,” I said honestly.
He smiled that beautiful smile and I saw his shoulders relax.
“How are you?” I grinned back at him. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, starving!”
“Did you skip breakfast again?” I admonished.
His smile died. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What is it?”
He shrugged. “No food in the house.”
I felt so bad for him, knowing I’d sent him away hungry. “Is… is it usually like that?”
He carried on staring out of the window. “I guess. Although it’s gotten worse lately. All they do is fight. I don’t know why they stay together – it damn well isn’t for me. Probably to protect their reputations – as if that were even possible. God, I can’t wait to get out of there.”
I reached over and gently squeezed his thigh. He looked down and a moment later carefully twined his fingers through mine.
“I thought we could go to our coffee shop,” I said softly.
He was still gazing at our joined hands, when he replied.
“Yeah, that would be good.”
“I’ll spring for breakfast,” I said, hoping to make him smile. “I saw on their menu that they do fresh zeppole and three different crostata.”
“Only three?” he said, his lips lifting upwards at last.